Everybody is trembling snug in their niches. In poetry, it is free verse that is way too free, mixed metaphors that are way too mixed, and the fetor of utterance. Utterance is what swings from the belly of a cow. In the novel we have prose without music, an inability to create strong and indestructible structure, the metallic bones of plot and character. We have very very little.
Most writers are cowards.
That's some pretty harsh criticism of the Modern Poetry canon. I apologize for the hyperbole. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the aesthetic, which is extremely interesting, but modernists, and especially the modern poets, just aren't particularly good at what they do. Going back to painting for example, Picasso and Matisse are far removed in abilities from the likes of Velasquez, Leonardo, Giotto, et alia, or even from the mass of painters who immediately preceded them. They are third-raters at best.