Below is a “bias statement” written in the beginning of the Fall 2013 semester.
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Dislikes. I dislike it when a poem does not seem to engage in any risks. That is, when it looks, smells, tastes, feels like what readers expect from typical poem-ness. When it uses phrases that sound like something easily said before. When enjambment is not engaging, or the language totally depends on enjambment to make it interesting (that said, non-ornate/plain language can be considered a risk). If a poem, in content and form, seems to be playing it safe, I do not think it is playing at all.
Likes. I like to see risks. It makes me respect that entity, especially if the risks have a thickness to them: not mere impulse, but complex pulse (though impulse could lead to a complex pulse)—risks that go beyond rebellion, an action that is intended to radiate consequentially in every direction, not one linear reaction. I want to see risks in content and form. Dare to disturb. Build a new metaphysics. And on a mass scale: leap from one means of poetry to another.
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Are there specific risks you enjoy seeing in writing? What risks do you take in your writing? What makes something a risk?