—two poems by a poet I haven't read before, to me they seem very well-written, impressively imaginative, worthy of rereading:
of course poets whose work I praise are embarrassed and hate being lauded by me—they wish I had kept my keyboard shut—no poet wants a blurb from me—a good word from me can only harm their career, not help it . . .
in fact, if I were conniving enough, if I had the guile-style to do it, I would write posts praising the poets I loathe—Charles Wright, for example—knowing that my approbation would taint and undermine their reputations—