Kevin Higgins, the Galway-based poet and satirist, has written a review of my 2009 collection, Mainstream Love Hotel, from Tall-lighthouse (No. 23), for The Wolf, James Byrne's uniquely important little magazine - perhaps the most adventurous and critically febrile of all the British poetry magazines - skirting as it does the main and marginal streams, and bridging the Atlantic effortlessly. This issue features poems by Evan P. Jones, Richard Parker, Anne Carson, James Brookes, and an interview with Alfred Corn, among other highlights. Higgins knows me well enough to note the curious way my work explores both theology and sexology: "One sometimes gets the impression that his [Swift's] politer lyrics are a kind of trick on the reader which gives him the element of surprise when he decides to unveil the spoiled priest in a brothel (or some other such enemy of politeness and hope) he has waiting around the corner from us." This is true, I think, and is exactly why cack-handed attacks on my supposedly po-faced religious position, from certain poets, smack of the poorly-researched - anyone who knows me or my work or both will know that I write knowing that Graham Greene was a Catholic when he used opium in a bordello. My poetry is alert to the tensions between desire and devotion. Higgins continues: "Swift is a poet unafraid to give both darkness and light a fair, fighting chance." Amen, brother. It isn't good if it hasn't gone a few rounds with evil. He ends: "Todd Swift is a big poet and a dramatic character". My forthcoming ebook, Experimental Sex Hospital, is the sequel to MLH, and will also deal with the priest, and the brothel, aspect of my poetic imagination.
When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se. What do I mean by smart?
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