What Maryann says is right on the mark: the use of the third person helps a lot to remove the whine from poetry that articulates despair, as it points outside the self to the universal.
Thanks, Jeff, for initiating this very rich thread--so many fine poems that are new to me!--and for ending with this well-deserved tribute to Josh Mehigan. I remember meeting both of you at West Chester in 1997 as one of the pleasures that sold me on the conference and kept me going back every year, right up to the present. I love the blend of enclosed passion, discipline and craftsmanship in both of you, and the fact that when I read something by either one of you I'm a bit afraid, because I know that something is about to happen that could hurt, but that I wouldn't want to miss.
I want to post a poem of yours that exemplifies the blend I'm talking about:
Take Me
Jim rushes up to me and grabs my waist,
Hugging me like a son who's waited hours
To share a robin't nest he found today.
The state removed him from his home and placed
Him here for treatment. He still picks at sores,
Screams in his sleep, and bites to get his way.
Will you take me? he asks, flashing blue eyes
That earned him change when he was half this size.
As we step over lunch trays, Kenny sings
Over the unit's din, crying Take me!
I shake my head and look down. Jim still clings,
Chewing a paper plane. I vow I'll see
Each child this week. They curse, and Curtis flings
A sock that disappears in the debris.
That shake of the head and downward look says so much that could have been "over the top" in other hands, and the last line is perfect.
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