May 24, 2015
A Few Thoughts On Identity & Art
I've never felt like I'm particularly talented as a writer. Poems don't ever seem to flow out of me like water, the way they seem to for writers who are better than me. I think I've written some good work, don't get me wrong - I'm proud of the work I've accomplished, but any poem of mine that's ever been published took a lot of blood & sweat & struggle to get where it is. Some days I'm jealous of the ones who can make the entire process look effortless. Most days, though, I find a certain meaning in the labor.
My father is a factory worker who supplements his income by sweeping floors at a college cafeteria. My grandpa drove a gas tanker, then a school bus - another grandpa was a farmer for years. Toil is in my blood, and just because I happen to be a poet doesn't mean I deserve to have it any easier than they did.