Skinks

 April 19, 2026

Almost 90 yesterday, almost freezing today, with a stiff, petulant wind. Tiny, unforthcoming rain barely enough to wet the pavement.  

The reading at the Black Mountain Center for the Arts was better than I expected. What an odd thing poetry is! I’ve dedicated my life to it, and should be more articulate on its behalf. What is it? It’s something that happens to words to brighten and sharpen them beyond their ordinary force. Why is the poet not king of the world? Because every warden of the Kingdom of Poetry misdefines it and conceals its power. Even your teacher tells you, “write about how you feel today,” as though lacing on your boots were the whole of the journey. Some of the student poets were quite good, some were not– the same spread detectable in the “professionals”– yet I believe the value in the effort of composition to have been roughly the same in every case. A poem is a victory over confusion, though of course some victories are more consequential than others, some include the listener while others are for the poet alone. Poems that intentionally take up causes are invariably bad. A, whom I have missed since he moved to Virginia, is performative (I wonder if that’s the word I want?) in the sense that all is effect, designed to illicit immediate recognition and response from an audience. He is good at it, and has made a living at it. My poetry– I recognized as I was at the podium reading it–is exploratory, probing into unknown spaces, hungry for revelation, as is nearly all the poetry I prize as a reader. The response to my work was, in any case, electrifying, gratifying, and I ended up being glad I took the gig.  Several invitations to read elsewhere. I knew my words were different when I sent them ringing into the air. I continue to be the last poet. 

Meeting at church to reveal that first stage of rebuilding– long delayed, it seems to me. I’d planned to attend, but didn’t, assuming my presence would change nothing and merely being informed seeming, at this point, frivolous. I’ve never needed to be informed when I wasn’t instrumental. 

First skinks appeared on the porch last week. They huddle in their caves today.