Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Nineteen Spring 2009 |
Ars Poetica Michael Homolka No first-degree murderer. Not literally. But crude. You use fucking from your chair, correcting students away from making love. Too much setup and not enough kill, and not enough killing of darlings. Part with the things you thought you loved. And never leave anyone un-indicted - not the you, not the I. Never leave the I un-indicted. Of the love poem, of its quiet rooms too quiet and resignation too resigned, you suggest a serial killer enter the picture. We seem to agree. Though the I of the poem does not agree. Write away from your subject. Write away from what you thought you wanted to write. You have decided what the poem is about too early. |
About Michael Homolka |