5 November 2025
Found Charles Wright's poetry for the first time. Kindred spirit. His mind, at least in his early work (which is all I've read so far, have a ways to go) vignettes the edges of observation with a lovely kind of darkness. Born from restraint, which is key—he says his poems come from “what I see, rather than from an idea I had in mind: idea follows seeing rather than the other way around,” so that darkness is meditative, solitary, contemplative, chin to the heavens. Not gloomy. Implies an affirmation of sensation (Camus!) rather than a grasping for meaning. Pieces are noticed and arranged, organized by a hopeful and curious spirit with an ear for the kind of chance that feels inevitable. Digging “Black and Blue” (1991) right now.