I love Terry McDonagh, primarily, because I have no idea what he’s trying to say through his eccentric poems. Reading The World without Stone, A Song for Joanna, or No Places in The Marshes is like walking in the desert, blindfolded.
That’s why I love to read his poems everytime I feel stuck. Eerily, his poems left me with this wacky sensation that runs through me as I flip each pages: a sense of… something lost.
When your whole life is so well-organized, and you live by the rules each day, you need some chaos to maintain your sanity. That’s why I love Terry. That’s why I love you.
I love the way you make me feel lost.
Your chaotic life is like a stain over my spotless canvas.