3) It’s possible that this is perception on my part, solidified to some extent by my main creative writing prof (whose body of work centers largely on his family’s experiences in the Holocaust.) But I am holding out for poetry to be about more than this.

4) I am holding out for (this type of) poetry to have room for more of me than I have seen it, so far, to have. I’ve been discussing this particular issue with another prof over the past day or so, and while she really seems to understand where I’m coming from, she takes some of the responsibility as hers (i.e. mine, the poet’s) as well as “poetry’s.” To some extent, yes, the traditional form touts the pretty of the dark side. But at some point, we have to take responsibility for the fact that we’re the ones writing, and decide whether we’re going to raise our expectations of that form, and try and make it do other things. One of the things I like about my proposed slam project of conversations is that I think it could inform later “academic” poems, allowing them to be more than just somber. (Although I’m torn there because part of me really doesn’t want to make poetically-ugly-and-thus-pretty a time in my life that was just-plan-disgusting.) In some ways, the slam work helps here because it allows me something like a journal about the writing process itself. “Picnic” for instance, developed from a need to rail against this one writing prof’s ideas for my piece on Rogers… although I feel like it’s taking on a great deal more than his stance at this point, and doing so more fiercely than he (alone) deserves.

Also: I don’t buy you as a blind sow for a second. I think any stumbling you do can be attributed to the fact that you have a marvelous tendency to put yourself out there, to risk saying things you aren’t entirely sure of, which is something I rather admire, and which has helped me to find much better sustenance than acorns, thank you very much.

1) I think since these poems are so confessional in nature, they do reflect back to some pretty heavy stuff. You’ve been pinpointing moments of your illness (I’m assuming this *is* a case where author = narrator, because it seems you’ve said as much yourself, but I do apologize if I’ve got that wrong; I hate when people assume *I* am the “I” in my poems.) that occurred at what were, I think, deeply difficult times. I think it’s quite possible that as you progress in writing through your recovery, there will be a lot of hope, joy, love, and even laughter sprinkled in, in increasing amounts. And I know there must have been spots along you’re journey when you’ve felt completely hopeless, but the person I know you to be is, in essence, very hopeful. So I can imagine beautiful poems about that hope being born. (You’ve only just now gotten us to the place where it is born; give us the miracle! I don’t know how the critical reception might be, but personally, I love my poetry reading to be sprinkled with miracles.)

2) You could try some mixing of times—some foreshadowing, maybe. Or speaking back on past events with your current voice, to add some hope, humor, or anger.

3) If you do feel like there is an issue of perceiving somber poems as the only ones that are acceptable, you could work at reading and writing some that are not somber, perhaps not centered around your illness (or even yourself) at all. Don’t even think of them as poems; consider them writing exercises. Read stuff like Robert Bly’s “Things to Think,” and Billy Collins (if his stuff makes you laugh; it often does me) and other poets who don’t follow the outdated school of belief that darker = better. It’s so passe. It so is. (For reference, see: I once wrote an ode to my elbows, and it’s one of my favorite pieces.)

4) Maybe this type of poetry is simply not your thing. Forget people who say that slam poetry is something less. They will be scoffed in the coming years. What you write there is wonderful stuff—it’s something I could certainly never do. So maybe this just isn’t the genre for you… and if that’s the case, that is totally OK. But I’d hate for you to give up on it without a fight… especially because in my very humble opinion (it really is, despite blabbing on and on here as if I think I know a lot), you seem a bit biased against the genre for reasons I think could be overcome. But if slam poetry/fiction/plays/what-have-you are more appealing, then maybe that is where you should focus your energy.

I hope some of this is helpful, and all of it is taken in the spirit in which it is given, which is that of the blind sow, stumbling about, hoping cliches are good enough to lead her (and thus her friend) to acorn every now and then.