Of the millions who perished in the Gulag, it's generally acknowledged most took grave offense to the relocation. Some even felt their sensibilities suffered in the move. Others endured and were better writers for it. What's being whisked away in the dead of night when you are the progenitor of necessary writing? A mere bump in the road. Unless it's a spoiled knitting project and it took you weeks to finish the left sock. Then all petulance is warranted.
While I'm at it, I'd like to speak up a little for ad hominem attacks as they've been taking a beating up here and can't speak up for themselves. Over the years I've read some detestable poetry here and elsewhere. This has led me, in some instances, to form an extra-textual detestation of the responsible poet. I'm not comfortable with stopping like some Stepford Wife at the poem itself. There is no UN-mandated demilitarized zone between the poem and the poet. Latitudinal partitions only invite future wars.
All feelings are personal. This is probably even moreso for poetry. However I will continue to abide by the guidelines, keeping my ad homs to myself even as I feel a tad disingenuous for not opening up with both barrels and letting some asshole really have it.
To those who hate my poetry, I permission you to hate me too. You already do. My poetry is too much of me that I can't imagine an honest stratagem for escaping your derision, nor would I ask you paste on an obsequious smile on my behalf. What I will say, my crappy comrade, is that guidelines notwithstanding, your hatred betrays abysmal taste. But that's your business.
|