Like all good writers and neurotics, I think a lot about patterns and theme. Sometimes that requires a bit of introspection, observation, digging. In this case, I've noticed a theme in my writing life, and it is about as subtle as a toupee: I do not know which of my poems readers and editors are going to like. I cannot overstate what a poor judge of my own poetry I seem to be. I can read the journal I'm submitting to for several years, think I have exactly a piece that's the
Sometimes a thing can seem like bad news, but it actually turns out to be good news. When I'm feeling bitter, I might say that we use that sentiment to console ourselves when faced with our own relentless mundanity, (I'm a blast at parties,) but that's just my own negative bullshit. The truth is, good news likes a masquerade ball as much as 90s teen fiction does and it dresses up all the time. Good news has an extensive tickle trunk.
Good news masquerading as bad has looked