I haven’t written in a while. Not to be confused with me not writing. That is what I do right? How I’m labeled. As I am defined by what I do. More so I am what I do. More so what I do defines me. I say all that to mean I have written poems, even though I haven’t posted on her in a while.
I’ve been reading poetry as well…for those who are curious see below:
- Tracy K. Smith Life on Mars
- Michael Robbins Alien vs. Predator
- Ryan Teitman Litany for the City
- Ross Gay Bringing the Shovel Down
- Anna Journey If Birds Gathered Your Hair for Nesting
- Catherine Barnett Into Perfect Spheres Such Holes are Pierced
- Dean Young Elegy on a Toy Piano
Among others which are en route via or USPS…
Back to the creature in the dark room. But I can’t really talk about that without saying I read it from someone who is a writer but doesn’t believe they are a writer. And I quote:
“I was the blind man looking in a dark room for the black cat that was not there.” End quote…I say yes.
I wrote a poem about writing a poem again. I also wrote a poem about Batman. I wrote a poem about zombies. I wrote a poem because that’s what jostles around in my head more often than the necessity to find food. Or get a glass of ice water.
“Your voice sounds the same too. And I miss you.”
As I write this I sit in a coffee shop with my manuscript open and a list of places I plan on submitting too. I hope if you’re doing the same. The reason; because that’s what life warrants: The outcome; enrichment: The purpose; I don’t know nor do I think it matters, besides “reason,” and “purpose” mean the same thing.
OH!!!! By the way, I have a new job. If you want to call it that. If you consider getting paid practice your craft a job. Getting paid to talk to people about one of the things that matters to you most a job. I consider it more an opportunity. I consider it something I can’t arrange any of the 26 characters I know to express.
Yes. I still am not proofreading. Yes. It kind of matters to me.
I also learned to choke a stream the other day. I didn’t know what that meant until I finished the poem. It’s like that sometimes, what a poems means or wants, eventually whatever you intend is irrelevant to the poem. Do for the poem what has to be done in order for it to survive.
Mr. Brown told me on the phone a couple months ago, “whatever you were thinking or trying to do becomes irrelevant. Eventually it comes down to what is your book saying about poetry.”
In other words he was telling me not to fight what I knew I needed to do but didn’t want to.
The following song is irrelevant. But there are no words. So in a way a scholar might call this a juxtaposition.