So here's some news: the other day, I found out I made a longlist for a very short collection of poetry I submitted to a contest. I have never felt like I know what I'm doing when I sit down to write poetry, so while I didn't win the contest, this remains a hugely encouraging development for me. Poetry acts as a fuel for my other writing and so I read it every day. I'm very familiar with the particular magic that exists in the best kinds of poems: the beautiful word tricks, the lightness and deftness of the poet's touch, the momentary distraction that leads our attention away, and then the finish that acts as the big reveal. I've never thought my poems come close to approaching that, but I think they must be getting better! Because that contest was judged by some damn fine poets, and Irish to boot. Them Irish know from poetry. Anyway, this is all just to say that there's more where that short collection came from, especially with this Irish guy singing to me:
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WhoErin Bedford, writer. What
All
When
December 2017
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