I took English in school, but I feel my competence ends somewhere around the first world war. Some modernist stuff is good; I like it, and can get often get something from it, even though I suspect I'm supposed to have read the bible and the Golden Bough, know Greek, know French literature inside and out, etc, etc, etc. But even without all that, I can find stuff here and there, up to, say, the '50s. Then the trail sort of goes cold.
I got introduced to John Ashbery in a class, and thought I was a big fan, but now mostly his poetry is impenetrable, or seems to form associations I have no access to. I know there's something called LANGUAGE POETRY that as best I can tell is a device for philosophical reflection, and has no aesthetic content of its own. Then there's the poetry I sometimes see in the little magazines, and in newer poetry anthologies, almost all of which appears not to be attempting to do what I want poetry to do; it seems like prose, cut into lines: something closer to a micro-essay, or micro-story, than to what I'd look for from poetry.
So what's up with poetry? Has school made me lazy, made me dependant on the historical sorting process? I mean, I know that if it were the 1820s and I just grabbed a magazine, the odds would be against me stumbling on Keats. But I still have a nagging doubt. I keep wondering if I just don't understand what contemporary poetry is trying to do. (It's also occurred to me that maybe Romanticism died to thorough a death in most of the English lit countries, and that I might do better with translations.)