Tag Archives: Nicholson Baker The Anthologist

How can you tell it’s a poem?


You can tell it’s a poem because it’s swimming in a little gel pack of white space that shows that it’s a poem. All the typography on all sides has drawn back. The words are making room, they’re saying, Rumble, rumble, stand back now, this is going to be good. Here the magician will do his thing. Here’s the guy who’s going to eat razor blades. Or pour gasoline in his mouth and spout it out. Or lie on a bed of broken glass. So, stand back, you crowded onlookers of prose. This is not prose. This is the blank white playing field of Eton.

Nicholson Baker, The Anthologist,  Simon & Schuster 2009,  p. 21

Image: http://www.flickr.com/photos/97741188@N04/9157383047

That tortured soul, the poet


When I look at the lives of the poets, I understand what’s wrong with me. They were willing to make the sacrifices that I’m not willing to make. They were so tortured, so messed up. Continue reading That tortured soul, the poet