What I don't like are cold poems.

When I say cold I probably refer to a degree of objectivity in the writing. I want to placed inside something, in the heat of it, without a map. "Our house is like a museum: it's very cold and you're not allowed to touch anything." I understand museums and they'll always be there. Make your poem something hot. Something I'll remember after it's touched me.

There aren't many risks in objectivity because objective poets are hoarding all the cards for themselves.

I like hot poems.


  1. I wrote a book of hot wintry poems.

    These days I am flaunting my Xicanismo.


  2. Oh, LOL Charlie--while I know this is not what you mean, I was just starting a eulogy for Hell before I saw your post.

    Hell was hot. Hell was hard. Hell turned my clitoris in-
    to a diamond. My body was not a fine enough setting
    for such a bright jewel.

    Yep, it was pretty much all crescendo
    with Hell


  3. I like hot guys.

    Does that count?

  4. Tony: your poems and photos are hot.

    Emily: It brings me joy to be on your wavelength.

    Woody: Hot poems and hot guys are basically the same thing.

  5. Charles,

    I think I agree with your argument, even if I think your terms are a bit off.

    Something tells me we're talking some sort of sincerity again.

    Let's not confuse objectivity for obfuscation. Or equate subjectivity with heat.

    I dig my objectivity with friction.

  6. I fear that my poems are cold. I shoot for stark a lot, and may end up cold...

  7. Charles: I agree: a cold poem is like a cold lay.
    Em: you are one hot mamma.

  8. Objectivists chased after objects, immitation scientists, really, who kept (and still keep) their little hearts hidden under fake lab coats.

  9. Sometimes on a steamy hot day, there's nothing like an ice cold poem to revive you.