In response to the image of a post below:
The foundation of my poetry, after I moved past the low hanging fruit of the Beats and Brautigan and young Yates, is Wallace Stevens, who had a hand for grandeur. I shy away from post-Modern because how do you even do that when Irony died with Henry Kissinger’s Nobel Peace Prize half a century ago? I don’t ape Stevens but I find grandeur in small moments, in the forest, echoing Snyder and Merwin: awe in small packages.
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Trampoline, Unlikely Stories, Peauxdunque Review, LMNL Anthology, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
.
Leave a Reply