BAD POETRY BOOK AND CD OF POEMS
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On February 24 I released a book of poems. It is called Bad Poetry. I released it under an abbreviated version of my full name: Lindsay Grant.
The reason for the name alteration is not to distance myself from the poems. It is, rather, insurance that if someone were to search for my name on the internet, this book would not be something they would discover early-on.
This stuff is different than anything I have done before. And likely not ground I will plow again. Over the last ten years, at the pace of a child arriving late to a party, I have been building on a body of work. Its pieces---I have begun to see---are knitted together by commonalities. But this book is made of largely different cloth.
The content is expressly adult. Sex is the prevailing theme. Erotica? I don’t know. Some might say it is vulgar. Or raunchy. Or just offensive. Or perverted. Or even pornographic. An accusation of misogyny would not surprise me. And I know of at least one person who would find it disturbing. (I am hoping, for her sake, she will not venture a read.) A few nights ago, while peaking with someone who has been an enormous help in the editing and assembling of the book, she tossed out ‘literary raunch’---almost jokingly---as a genre description. We both laughed. Then paused. Then thought: Okay. Maybe. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
I worked as hard writing these poems as I have anything I’ve ever done. I believe the standards I have tried to set for my other work I have likewise, genuinely, tried to summon here, and with as much honesty and clarity as I possibly could. And because of this honesty, (I suppose), it has never occurred to me that I shouldn’t share these with the tiny public I have.
So…with this somewhat ambivalent caveat, here you have it: Bad Poetry.