So the new Laureate [Kay Ryan] is growing on me. I’m hard pressed not to get all cloud-nined and complimentary – but [brace for alliteration!] she said some super stuff in “America’s Busiest Poet” ; – alright, here’s the skinny: I’ve a galpal [Novelletum editor Leslie Pritchard] who’s got the most bizarre gab; thus similiarities, to me, endear even strangers:
“But I’m ready to be interrupted,” [Ryan] says. “I’m getting tired of myself, tired of inflicting myself on myself. I’m ready to inflict myself on others.”
“They wanted something that I could help them get: an understanding of the basic elements of grammar, pronouns, those pesky apostrophes. The goal was to write an effective paragraph that was coherent and well supported. We aspired to the semicolon, but that rarely happened.” …
“Poems bite,” she says. “And my poems are bitey.”
I suppose the United Kingdom’s got the Laureatedom downpacked: one’s prize is money, scenery, and some sherry. And if these days they’re anything like the Romantics, that’s inspiration enough – minus the opium.