untitled

A poetry professor in college asked us once if poetry depended on the angle of the reader or the writer. He wanted us to think about whether the reader’s past had anything to do with how they interpreted a poem. I was adamant that the history a reader brings with them fully influences their understandings. Others disagreed, but I still stand by my thought. Take the previous post. While, not a poem, the comments I got were wholly influenced by the readers lives. Andre , who writes about his depression, stopped and contemplated. I’m sure he understood my metaphor for the river being a step away from drowning you. Or maybe not, that is what I love about writing. It can be taken so many ways. Then there was Elise , who is Kristin’s sister. She lives in Norway and I don’t know her, but I bet she’s wild and crazy because she thought I was hung over, probably from the fact of going to bed happy and then the headache that took a while to register. Sadly, Andre’s perception is more correct. It was a statement about how quickly reality can overwhelm us when we sit and think about all we are missing.