The written word is nowhere near as concentrated and potent as those sparingly used in poetry.
I’ve been rather remiss in remarking that this month, April, is National Poetry Month. I’m not sure why they have months to commemorate things. Whatever the month is dedicated for, whether it’s poetry, African Americans, or pancakes, these things should be acknowledged the rest of the year.
Anyway, in celebration of my belatedness, I tried my hand at some drivel.
William Shakespeare: You know it’s required reading, and yeah, the iambs might start your head spinning for hours, but the bard’s words strike something fundamental about us.
William Carlos Williams: He made poem distillation an art.
Hayden Carruth: Plain-spoken and honest, he’s a personal favorite.
W. S. Merwin: There’s something about his abrupt and active style that I can identify with. I once attended one of his readings at The Getty. He sounds like a narrator for a documentary.
And yes, I generally like modern poets. They don’t have to restrict themselves to archaic conventions to express their emotions and ideas.