I hadn't really been reading much poetry lately. Poetry is difficult for me, and I tend to rely on novels and the daily Times for most of my reading. To make matters worse, I am supposed to be reviewing 2 books.
Last week, I delved into three poets: Ashbery, Palmer, and Creeley. In order to read poetry, I have to find an "in." It's like there's a secret doorway that I have to uncover. Once I find it, it's magical. Finding it is a lot of work.
I found it last night in Mayer's MidWinter Day (correct title?) and Berssenbrugge's Four Year Old Girl.