Roger: When I read something by a poet I already know and like, I am indeed receptive, ready to assume that any infelicities are with my (mis)reading rather than with her or his writing. When I worked as an editor I was simply overwhelmed by the volume of submissions, and I found myself looking for ways to get through the pile quickly, which meant, often, looking for any reason to set another poem aside without reading it through. It was a disheartening business, and I bow humbly before anyone who can do it for long and keep a sense of openness. When I read on my own, especially in an anthology, I have the luxury of someone else's having done the culling, and the further I read without disappointment the more open I become to each additional poem.
As I critic I receive hundreds -- literally -- of poetry books every year, in addition to those sent to me by publishers who want me to consider them as texts in my classes. Again, I quickly reach the limit of my receptivity. Most of the books are more or less competent, but they're mostly more or less the same, too, or the same within three or four catagories. Still, I get pleasantly surprised often enough to know that I haven't entirely lost my ability to open up to an new poem and an unknown poet.
A workshop is a little different, though, because the writers presumably feel the poem still needs work. (That's why it's so disappointing to me when a poet reacts defensively or angrily to the readers' comments.)
For me, it ends up with my reminding myself why I read poetry in the first place. Corny as it sounds, I find that a good poem narrows the gulf between me and another human being AND between the various parts of myself, makes me feel a little less alone, a little less fragmented. I write poetry in hopes of achieving the same ends, and so I want very much to know as specifically as possible where a poem of mine is failing to connect.
Sometimes on our boards here at Eratosphere (and often in my teaching, where students often bring me their work even when I'm not teaching poetry writing because they know I'm a poet and critic) I run across a poem where I experience a kind of meta-empathy: I empathize with the writer's desire to write, even though the writing itself doesn't work. Those situations tax my ability to be sincerely encouraging without being misleading...
RPW
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