So, I just wanted to take the time this morning to explain why that poem speaks to authenticity. While I worked on my senior thesis, an odd pattern developed in my writing. Alongside serenity and quiet, which is how a few peoplp would describe me the poet and person, an odd and gory sort of violence started to appear. Deer that had been left dead in the forest, war, drownings and blood. The violence was doubly strange because it is silent.
As a pacifist in life, I found it disturbing. I tried editing it out, but the violence was what held this poetry together. So that’s the story here. When I get angry or sad or feel violent, I tend to get quiet. I hold it in, and like tooth paste that gets squeezed, it finds a place to squelch out. The poems that result tend to be complex. They have a haze and a fog in them that I like. Slowly, I started to leave it in, to seek it out. I am another animal, after all.