Thanks for responding, Dave. I was just razzing you about the oysters. But
consider: You do NOT erase Pepys’ words, but leave them as part of the literary experience you create. It would be very different (and probably include some Holier Than Thou sentiment) if you erased Pepys’ contribution.\\

For myself, I’m currently channeling Yeats, and have get joy in the work. Zara

HI Zara, thanks for the lovely comment. The combativeness of poets is indeed a tiresome thing, though I’m not sure how new it is — and I certainly wouldn’t want to pin it on the avant garde, some of whom seem at least a bit more open to collaborative writing than the mainstream. And without avant-garde rebellion, we wouldn’t have erasure poetry, or found poetry in general. Regardless, I do think that deep reading and conscious imitation are great ways to exercise our poetic faculties. I know a college kid who’s writing sonnets in imitation of Shelley. He’ll go far, no doubt about it.

how you could fail to use “barrels of oysters and three pullets” in your Dec. 30 poem I will never understand.
Heh. I certainly considered it, but I had used oysters in previous erasures so many times already… But my friendly response to these kinds of remarks is always the same: make your own erasure! I’d love the company.

I enjoy the Pepys erasure poems very much, though how you could fail to use “barrels of oysters and three pullets” in your Dec. 30 poem I will never understand.
I’m no scholar, but centuries ago, when poets worked much more easily under the influence of their elders, and indeed warmly thrived under there, I imagine the links among generations of writers were textually much closer–viz., Alexander Pope and Milton or Dryden. Nowadays writers are often combative in these inevitable relationships, and so we get the tedious rebellion of the avante garde. But your seeking out this odd relationship with an elder has a freshness and charm about it I for one admire. Thank you.