Robert James

For much of my life until recently I have been letting my writing occur organically: poems are things that happen when one is lucky. However, in the last few years I’ve come to recognize that I, like everyone, have preferences when it comes to reading and writing poetry. Personally, I find myself disinterested in lengthy, discursive verse that feels like an essay in disguise. Similarly, I'm not a fan of solipsistic free verse that focuses excessively on personal reflections.

Instead, I appreciate poetry that uses words efficiently, much like a well-crafted machine. William Carlos Williams' description of a poem as a "machine made out of words" resonates with me. Just as a 19th-century steam engine's beauty lies in its elegantly machined parts working in harmony, a poem should have a similar cohesion and power. As with machines, decoration is not needed: brevity aligns with the essence of poetry. The poet's biography is irrelevant to the poem's ability to stand alone and function independently. Unlike essays or novels, where expansiveness is often celebrated, poetry thrives on conciseness. Each word carries weight, and poets must be discerning in their choices.

For me, poetry is about words, not ideas or characters. Good poetry requires a deep love for words, their history, texture, taste, smell and rhythm. A poet should understand how words fit together intuitively, creating a harmonious meter, beat, and rhyme. I'm not interested in cleverness for its own sake or puzzle poems that require excessive effort to decipher. Instead, I seek beauty that's memorable, with a quick reading that intrigues and a closer reading that rewards. Ambiguities are acceptable if they're substantive, allowing the reader to fill in the gaps and make the poem personally meaningful. I want poems which contain layers of meaning, that can evoke emotions beyond their literal content so that readers can become co-creators, infusing their own experiences and perspectives. If this requires creating only the illusion of meaning, so be it.

Now, do I think that I achieve any of this in what I write? Hell no, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp.