So my friend called today and gave me results of the Nevada Arts Council Artist's Fellowship Awards JUDGMENT DAY. It's a public event and she attended because she also entered work in the contest. This is Breaking News as otherwise, I have to wait for the council to get around to mailing me the judges written critique.
This year I made it to the second round. That's a step up from last year when I didn't even make it past the first cut. Different judges, different results. If you're one of the two or three regular readers around here, you may remember me ranting about last year's bimbo poser judge who hated my work. She found some of the images "captivating", but otherwise complained that my poems left her "confused and disoriented." Wah-fucking-wah. At least she got that far.
This year and last the judges referred to me a "mystic-poet", "in the French surrealist tradition", and that my poetry is "mysterious" and reminiscent at times of "William Blake, and at other times of T.S. Eliot." Unfortunately, that's not good enough to win their damn five thousand dollars. Oh well . . . and shit!
writing poetry literature
No comments:
Post a Comment