When I was a student, I was assured that there are major and minor poets. The difference is talent. The minor poets were almost as good, but not quite. Worth remembering, perhaps, but not worth a semester’s study in college. I could dial back on the veneration.
For a long time, I wondered why I invariably preferred the minors to the majors.
It took a while to realize the obvious: The major poets had reached the majority of literature fans. The minor poets had appealed to a dissenting minority. “Major” and “minor,” at least in that broad sense, was in the eye of the beholder.
If you’re wondering: I’m unpacking and sorting books. I’ve found the poems of Charles Reznikoff, William Stafford and Norman MacCaig, major poets to me.
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