Before I tackle the “Writerly/Readerly” (Roland Barthes, S/Z) question I raised earlier, I found this piece of raw poetry I wrote and posted here back on February 6th, 2004, that must have reflected my feelings at the time in sorting through Contemporay Fiction. It was a gut reaction (and possibly, rebellion) to efforts to both accept a reader’s input as a writer, and acknowledgement of the readerly/writerly form without knowing it at the time:
“Reader vs. Writer”
I need to be
amongst the leaves
of horrid poetry;
for great is good
no doubt
to also put
the fire out.
I need to read
the prose that’s
dozing to the mind.
with brevity
not levity that stirs
the evil imps
Of illusion
and persuasion
and delusion
and evasion
until I lie there–
a muddled green and
huddled yellow
pile of words.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology