If one were to tally up the poets whose art was aided by discussing the nature of beauty, and those who shied away from discussing beauty in the abstract but yet somehow created beautiful poems, then added in those honest souls who followed some theory down a rabbit hole in pursuit of art and never came back, I think all three groups would be dwarfed by those who have deluded themselves about or even pawned off their bad poetry by dressing it up with bogus theories and movements.
If it works for you to consider these ideals, that's all to the good -- and from where I sit, I'll know it's all to the good not by your cerebral discourses, but by your poems. But for me it comes down to this: I can no more think grandly or long about such things and write than the centipede in that old joke can keep from tripping up when it starts thinking about how to walk. For me, craft and life are the wellsprings of art.
Best,
Ed
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