May 06, 2008 12:07 PM
by David Yezzis
Thin volumes of poetry do not generally constitute a publishing event. They arrive like faint ripples on the still pond of contemplation, just as the latest tell-all memoir or beltway thriller roars by on a PWC, throwing off sheets of oily water. Still, I'm delighted to announce the publication of my second book of poems, Azores, just out from Swallow Press. The book recently receiced a wonderful review in The New York Sun by Adam Kirsch. And Bernard Chapin has recorded a spirited video review, which you can see on the Azores page on Amazon (where you can purchase a copy as well). Just today, an interview with Bernard about the book has started to make its way in the bloggosphere. Here's a bit of it (responding to Bernard's question about which poem in the book is my favorite):
A kind of healthy loathing sets in for me as soon as the poems are published. They’re basically done; they’re as good (more or less) as they’re going to be. I consider each of them as works of the highest genius the day that I finish it, and possibly for a few days afterward. Then more and more I tend to see the flaws. Whatever it was that got my blood going enough to think I was on the right track fades a bit. I still feel okay about it but not as thrilled. That’s good, I think. It keeps me moving ahead, taking whatever works and building on it if possible. It’s like Wallace Stevens wrote to Donald Hall, when Hall asked if he could collect Stevens's undergraduate poems: “Some of one’s early things give one the creeps.” Even a poem written five years ago can seem like a voice form the distant past. I’m not sure that speaks very well for their longevity, though.
Or you can read the whole thing here.