I'm still trying to get a grip on the modern poetry world, and I have to say ... it bothers me, man, that poetry is a very small subculture these days - actually smaller than 30+ years ago when I first got into poetry. I mean, I remember finding out about the "new" poets Simon Armitage and Glyn Maxwell in Poetry Review. That was in 1991, I think. They were on the cover. Maybe Jackie Kay as well. (I've got the magazine in the back room somewhere covered with rain and spiders.) In those days, Ted Hughes and Seamus Heaney were still alive, and Larkin had only been dead six years. Do you know what I mean, kooks?
Having said all that ... I'm not sure I fancy writing novels or plays. I like the idea of being a poet.
I just don't know, you know?
One thing I'm seriously thinking of is writing that VERY BIG POEM ... and then putting it on here as the last post of the blog. Then I can send small poems to magazines for years, but anyone googling my name will find ... THE MASTERPIECE - !!! You dig?
It's just an idea.
'What about that other idea, man?'
Oh yes, thank you, Voice. Well, that's a secret. I can't tell anyone about that because it's almost unheard of.
'Oh. / And the other idea?'
Well, yeah ... a YouTube channel, reading my poems.
I don't know.
Anyway, it's early days yet.
Laters.
Or maybe I shouldn't go too BIG. That 156-line one, with roughly 650 words, is the right size.
'Write a load more of them.'
Yeah. I could. I need to do something to stand out.
'Get twelve of them, like you wanted, but get them within the next two or three years.'
I won't have anything else to do ... out on the cliffs, the beaches.
'You shall never surrender!'
Nice one, Voice.
'Bye!'
