At times when I compose a poem, I enter an almost hypnotic state, a kind of reverie, and I am often surprised by the results, particularly when the poem winds up with an interesting rhythm or rhyme scheme. When I sat to compose "After Spicer," I imagined that my mind was a Spicerian Receiver. The fourteen lines of free verse that resulted--a kind of eclectic electric sonnet--shocked me.
I hesitated as I sought to categorize the poem. I separate my mainstream work from my speculative work and usually send each to different markets. Ultimately, I decided that "After Spicer" is another one for the S column, if for no other reason than for the way in which it was composed.
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