There are many kinds of poetry,
each with its own affordances, implicit
politics, posture vis-à-vis the hegemonic
definitions of Literature and Man, and
while I understand the many arguments
against or indifferent to the lyric
as a category / ideal / image of some white
someone who, talking at the threshold
of the interior (its dark heart, its bright walls,
etc.), yes, just talking as if to no one
thereby expands their world until it appears
as if it were the world, the self, the
imagination, terms, it should be said,
that never quite (thankfully) address us
but nonetheless press us to their service,
watch us in the grocery store, what was I
saying? Oh, I know all the arguments for
and against my life. But, still, I want to live.
