The handsome one is actually my dad's German wirehair pointer, Fischer.

I'm looking to stretch myself a little bit, and one way I'm doing that is by getting poem requests from other people. Give me a subject, or a theme, or a style, or a word, or a line, or a metaphor, or a literary device, or some of the above, or whatever--I'll write a poem to your specifications. I can't promise when it'll be done, and I can't promise that you'll like it, but I will post it here or send it to you. Feel free to post your orders in the comment box.

An editor commented on a recent rejection of my work, and part of what the editor said was "the intellectual accomplishment of your poetry is obvious, but I think you might benefit from considering the emotional effect of your verse more closely."

This is interesting, because my early poetry would have gone completely the opposite way: very emotional, not at all accomplished. Looking at the submission I sent to this place, I agree with the editor on four of the five pieces. They're much more muted emotionally than that early work, and also more interested in the mechanics of what they're doing and in making one think.

I also, though, disagree with the editor on a major point: I think I have considered the emotional effect of the verse and found this not-so-blatant approach worthwhile. I'm still trying to evoke an emotional response as well as an intellectual one--it's just not something so naked and heavy as "This poem makes me want to weep" or "This poem expresses transcendent joy" or even "This poem pisses me off." I would describe the intended emotional impact of three of the five poems this way: "This poem provides a sense of amusement but leaves the reader with a vague feeling of unease, of being uncomfortable with the amusement."

It may just be a semantic difference between what the editor meant and what I mean, but I believe we ought to keep in mind that just because a poem's emotion is muted or not immediately obvious doesn't mean the poem isn't working or the author needed to think about the emotion more. Maybe these poems of mine should have more emotional impact, or maybe they're not even having the different emotional impact I intended. Nonetheless, I was considering that impact--this is sort of like the workshop "guideline" of "Critique the poem, not the poet."

Today a client informed me that the resume I had prepared for him used the word "and" too often. This is the same client who substitutes "u" for "you" in every e-mail he sends. And who is not a native English speaker. This will not end well.

I wish I'd get a little more edgy stuff, maybe even some post-avantish poems, for The Eleventh Muse. I can't guarantee that I'd take them, but I'd like to see more. It would definitely be more interesting than another hundred of the following:

• Poet goes for walk in woods, has vague new-age-spiritual epiphany.
• Privileged, probably white poet writes patronizingly about encounter with poor/oppressed person.
• Poet writes to dead, much better poet--usually Sylvia Plath, but many other options.
• Poet writes about poet's writing process (not even up to ars poetica).
• Poet's metrical poem requires metrical padding (or rhymes night/light, breath/death, etc.)

Now if someone can write me "Dear Robert Frost: While Hiking in Pike National Forest, I Met a Homeless Black Woman and Decided to Write This Sonnet About Death," that will probably have a better chance. Seriously, I'd like to see a poem that tries to take all the worst cliches of mediocre poetry and tries to stir them up into something good. Add dead (grand)parents, cats, angels, "shocking" sex talk, wow, you might really have something. It's probably been done too, but I haven't seen it at least.

It was pointed out on a message board where I announced Poetry West's Pushcart Prize nominations that I had previously characterized Pushcart nominations and other such publisher-driven nominations as "coming in Pez dispensers." I think this was intended as a "Gotcha!" moment, but I haven't changed my stance--my characterization was in response to someone who was claiming that a publisher nomination for the Griffin Prize or the National Book Award represented a realistic chance (or even a chance in hell) of winning. So, whose assessment was more accurate, mine or theirs?

I hope the people we've nominated realize that the fact of their nomination doesn't mean they have much of a shot of winning a Pushcart, given what a small publication we are and how many more prestigious places nominate. I use the nominations as a modest means of saying "Thank you for sending such good work--I'd like to see it recognized further." It's like having a poem on Verse Daily (a little less than that, probably) or seeing a review of your journal on NewPages: little things that feel nice but that shouldn't be made out to be more than they are.