Having lunch with my daughter yesterday, we were talking about a poetry workshop at the 92nd St. Y.
“It’s weird,” my daughter said, “Nobody seems to want to read poetry, but everyone seems to want to write it.”
This is an odd fact, and certainly rang true. The workshop last night with Mark Ford, was very good, though. He was (as I thought he might be from reading some of his criticism in A Driftwood Altar) a discerning and thoughtful facilitator, who had spent time with the poems and had interesting things to say about them. I might even want to read a poem this morning!
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