a propos of nothing, poetry, theater

she came in through the bathroom window

If I keep moving into other fields, I’m going to have to stop calling theater “the field.” I just got off the phone with another poet who entered poetry through the back door (side door, garden hedge, etc). In her case, she came from the world of music. We talked about the fear of leaving behind what you’ve worked so hard on. Unspoken between us, but louder than anything we spoke, was the truth that performance fields are so much more difficult to live in, and that the choice to move towards poetry was, in some part, a choice to move towards sanity.

I met someone at a party two nights ago who said “Wow. Poetry. That’s a hard life.” We’ll see if he’s right.