I've been reading contemporary poets in English. Both for the enjoyment and in my attempt to figure out how free verse works. The past couple of days it was Wendell Berry. I can understand intellectually the whole rootedness thing, but I don't feel the appeal of the whole regionalist thing. Yeah, yeah, birds make noise and you like to walk in the woods. But I'm trying to appreciate what he does, while what he says grates on my nerves.
And when I couldn't take it any more, I wrote my own damn Berry poem. Think of it as "The Metaphysician Answers the Pastoralist, Sung in the Key of Berry":
I am what may be called A "Natural Liberal" by those who Study such things. But because I have no homeland, I've nothing To preserve. Rather, my homeland Is in death -- or in eternity -- And I don't see it in bird or tree But when the eternal can be glimpsed Shining through the cracks.