The Beaches of Northern California

I wrote about a fourth of my new book of poems The Beaches of Northern California last night. Then I realized that it was all a repetition of Borges, Calvino, Sorrentino, Perec... It is amusing enough, but it has been pretty much done already. That doesn't stop other people from writing poetry in tried-and-true modes without any shame. I know better, though.

I still think it's an amusing book. Perhaps I shouldn't expect great things out of ideas that come so easily.

My book of poems Poemas con nombres propios is much more original, but it has no traction, since it was written in Spanish. My Spanish poetic voice is far more distinctive, precisely because the persona is so different from any other literary personality in either language.