“Oh, I didn’t realize that you wrote poetry
I didn’t realize you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly”
– Frankly, Mr. Shankly, Morrissey
New project I’m working on, I’m making a book cover for a writer friend of mine who is going to self-publish a book of poems specifically on Miami. I like doing layout work and have some experience in it so I’m very much on board with this.
Thing is, and I think I mentioned it in a previous post, but I’m not real big on poetry. This has nothing to do with my friend, but I do feel a bit bad that I can’t read her poetry and say anything whatsoever. I don’t think I could tell the difference between a good poem or a bad poem if they were color coded. Aside from a few lines in Poe that I love, nothing else in poetry speaks to me. I’m like a person going to a museum and saying “meh”. I feel like I have some sort of deficiency.
But doing the layout work got me thinking. A couple of years ago I had gotten drunk and said I could write a book of poetry in one day. I still think I can. This is due to the fact that since I can’t tell good poetry from bad I can just tell myself that everything I jot down is awesome. So that’s what I’m going to do.
I got one of my blank moleskins that has 34 pages (or 32, can’t remember). I’m going to fill it up tomorrow with poetry. Then I’m going to spend one other day taking photographs to go with my poems. And then one last day where I do layouts for its debut on CreateSpace. I’m going to throw that terrible book of poetry up there and make 84 cents in royalties over the course of 10 years and it’s going to be awesome.
Maybe I’ll use a different pen name. And I will be the Kilgore Trout of poetry.