© Rochelle Potkar | Powered by A male poet whose silo and gossip network I don’t belong to has been dissing my poetry, saying it is good but I don’t explore & it has no range. Not being in his silo hurts so much? Closed mind 🙂 How deranged he seems, poor thing.
I explore all topics, themes, genres, art forms, and will continue to do so. Some of the brightest minds in India, Hongkong and USA have congratulated me on this. Maybe its time to celebrate that openly for the sake of a re”arrangement” of deranged comment on range. Ha ha ha!
Blurb collated for my next book – one of them. (Let’s show off when absolutely required)
These fierce, fearless new poems of Rochelle Potkar seem nothing less than a continent adrift, forging not only a new language, but a refuge from our present aesthetic dystopia. It’s impossible not to quote her: “The picture…hung in the left wing…/of our ancient heart museum” “Sisyphean stone…of many biases/stacked from centuries…” “Emancipation is white,/ grey skin dotted in shark bites.”
This uproar of consciousness is matched in intensity by the flow of images, the pain and joy of passionate thinking and feeling. Such a pleasure to be so persuasively disrupted by such “fire, fire in the mountain, in the sky”, by such “Sensitive glass/ changing temperaments…”
By such vision…Â Â
Philip Schultz (2008, Pulitzer Prize Winner) & Founder-Director, Writers Studio, New York, USA