I cannot write poetry. I’ve tried all kinds. This goes for lyrics too. Even my fiction is more prose-y with a flair of nonfiction… perhaps the more alliterative phrasing has been ruined forever by my online writing and journalism degrees. Or maybe I’m too self-conscious. I’m a good enough reader that I can note high-quality poetry, and I’m a writer with enough self-awareness to know mine isn’t comparable. Of course, writing doesn’t have to be “good.” No art does. It can just be for fun, for emotional transference, for personal growth, for an outlet to express the love we want and need.
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But, still, as an otherwise professional writer… I don’t want to send my poetry out into the world. Luckily, I’m not just a writer. I’m a reader. In fact, arguably, as a lead editor, I’m far more of a reader than a writer these days.
And this is why I’m so lucky to have enjoyed reading poetry this summer. Best of all, it’s poetry from two friends: David Gate and Anthony Thomas Lombardi. The former is a figure in the greater deconstruction/exvangelical community (though, I think we likely both feel that we feel that those labels alone don’t fully define the whole journey) and the latter is Rob’s friend, an activist whom we have interviewed for our Platonic Polyamory podcast.
(It should be stated, of course, that neither of them asked me to do this — I just am, because poetry is important.)
At the same time, my podcast hosts Rob, Brandon, and I have been working on a special project with Poecast, in which we record and riff on various stories and poems from Edgar Allan Poe along with many collaborators who are all more creative than me. I hope to be able to reveal more soon!
But poetry, and literature, used to change the world. I’m not sure if it still has that effect, and it’s by design. Recently, my agent told me that selling “liberal” memoir books to publishers, potentially like mine, is nearly impossible under the Trump era in a very depressing phone call to me that might kill my one big “dream” for this life. Media is increasingly conservative, from CBS/Paramount (which just chose a conservative to lead its news team) to all 24-hour news networks and even established institutions like the New York Times and The Atlantic. I don’t believe this accurately represents the population, but it does accurately represent the people who make decisions and run in circles with elitists: Wealthy, capitalist people, even “liberals,” believe that conservatism is more profitable. And maybe it is, for THEM.
Nobody gets rich being a poet these days. David Gate’s latest work, A Rebellion of Care, is like a balm to your soul during these rough times. I have no idea how he maintains this kind of softness in his life or his writing when I have to use all of my Christian power to not call for death threats to political fascists daily. How do you manage this, David Gate? I know how. He writes poetry. He feels it. He has the talent I don’t have, which is turning feelings into beauty and goodness, without sacrificing honesty. I can only blurt out my thoughts and feelings like a roaring waterfall, overwhelming and blatant, able to drown you. He turns them into a thing of beauty, a babbling creek over stones that can satiate you and bring calm.
Meanwhile, Anthony Thomas Lombardi brings us poetry inspired by grief and addiction, which are two things I’ve not experienced in a meaningful way. In his latest collection, murmurations, he discusses faith and sobriety centered around one particular figure: Amy Winehouse. What if she hadn’t died? What if she’d gotten sober? What if God had saved her? What if God saved all of us? We are abandoned, but we keep praising God and acting as if we are not alone. This deeply enriching work feels a bit like Lamentations in the Bible.
I have children who have been raised in a generation that prioritized STEM, with kids who could navigate touchscreens before they could read or write. When I was a kid, I consumed books with the ferocity of someone without cable, because that’s what I was. The Accelerated Reading program gave awards in school each year, and I dominated it. I wanted to be a writer — not the kind of writer I am now, but a fiction writer who created life. I got half my wish, and am lucky that I can make money writing and editing now.
My greatest parenting fear is that my children, as a result of this new push to make kids code and engineer and solve equations and learn whatever new technology Silicon Valley wants to force us to consume so that they can continue to profit at all costs, is that they will not learn to love the written word as I have. I try to expose them to literature, humanities, and art, but it’s difficult… especially for my ADHD youngest. Generation Alpha, even with parents like us who purposefully limit screentime, promote academics, and encourage creativity, has evolved with a complete lack of attention span for anything without visuals. Even long-form movies can be difficult for them, but I’m trying.
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There’s something to be said about buying books and reading poetry in 2025. Writing fiction and creating something that people may not even want anymore. When you have AI writing fiction and poetry that people also don’t read, what is the point?
Maybe there is no point.
But maybe we exist to create, when we’ve been forced to merely survive for so long. I don’t know what of our writings will survive as the human race continues to live in the increasing imbalance of life and death. I don’t know if what our species has created will exist in the future in any format.
I do know that we owe it to ourselves to take part in something beautiful while we’re alive. Something that can challenge us and make us feel things. And I can think of no better way to do that than by reading a poem. Forgive me my sin of not being able to write one.
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