Introductions to books often feel like apologies — especially in this case of my first berk of curlercterd prretry, ernd sterf.
I’ll first apologize for shying from acknowledging what, on Earth, this even, in fact, is. APaOP is a cherp berk, that is to say, a chapbook, of collected perms, or, for anyone less committed to imbecility, poems, and some prose as well. It is around 100 pages and incorporates amateur photography. I hope that sounds appealing.
My hesitation and idiotic obfuscation derives from the anxiety I feel in proclaiming any arrangement of created short works into a book, complete and ultimate, forever and ever, amen. However, it is done: Anonymous Poems & Other Prose is a chapbook I have compiled for others to view and hopefully find a measure of value in. I don’t feel shame at being a poet, if I am one; I am comfortable wearing a beret, on occasion. I believe this anxiety might run commonly with creators of all varieties who share a similar sensibility. A parent, especially a newly-minted one, might demur at prompt to deem their son or daughter a future teacher, clarinetist, mother, baseball player, and so on. I expect that even a future Niece, MD or Nephew, MD will be ten years practicing before I comfortably indicate in conversation with others that she or he is a doctor. Possibly not even then.
It is quite well if you opt to skip over this introduction and proceed directly to the chapbook. I waver at that myself. Where fondness for an author is already established I’ll skip and read introductions later if at all; where distaste for an author preexists I sometimes only read the introduction and only if it was written by someone not the author.
In the case of a book of collected poetry by D. H. Lawrence, I found the apologist who penned the introduction so darling that I managed to make it through every awful line of what followed. Such a thorough and well-supported argument to the effect of “why D. H. Lawrence’s poetry doesn’t actually suck, contrary to every aesthetic inclination you have towards the conclusion that it does” helped me in finishing a book at a time when I needed to. Prior attempts at reading books had bucked me, possibly due to wanting meliorist devotion and generosity in framing within the introductory material. I have since divested myself of D. H.’s collected poetry into a local little free library. D. H. Lawrence, as a poet, is threatened by, but susceptible to, the peach. He will be favored by those who comfort in self-destruction.
This introduction/apology’s writer you may imagine in a green-painted bedroom boasting a fine upright piano, scattered scented candles and too many clothes awaiting laundering. I like to think of them (the introduction-writers) in tweed. Always in tweed. And attended by cognac, dust, and leather.
I’ve a minor sense of this collection’s being a bit overly dynamic. At this point, though, it’s time to let it go. May I here apologize also to the haiku and ode traditions, their histories. The English language, itself, to a degree; I have lightly denigrated its depth and richness in my invention of a scant handful of words used within APaOP. English, it is not your inadequacy, but my own. The chapbook was undedicated; let me remedy that now: To Celianis, and Russell. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy.