Friday, February 21, 2014

What I don't know, as they say, could fill volumes.  And it actually has filled a couple, if not more, of the volumes I've written.

Part of the difficulty (there's that word again) of being a writer is trying to move back and forth between ambition and humility.

Ambition in the work--the text, the project--is a necessary and important thing.  Ambition for position in the poetry or art world is quite another thing.

I'm a person who hasn't moved with ease in the world.  So suspect anything I say.  Suspect anything anyone says, I say.

Expectations of success or of being understood are almost inevitably destined to meet with disappointment.
Believe me, I know. Good intentions aren't immediately recognizable by others.

Where humility enters into things for me is with the recognition that I will frequently fail to accomplish what I want to do as an artist.  That's not a pleasant recognition.  But it is a very real one.


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