I imagine much different poems than Andrew Joron’s
being surrounded by a much different essay.
These newborn poems will be filled with a wily imagination, primarily, though they will carry the bagged head of a sadness & lament (of mortality, & for political mistreatment). They will keep moving, & they may even be joyous & pleasurable & strangely accessible, carry non-poetry readers through them even as they make us feel & think
The essay will not be properly philosophical, but will be properly political, as it will expose in clear and critical language something specific that is happening & our place within it & a potential exit
That is, it will be fundamentally critical AND imaginative
But within a very basic language. It will be, perhaps, another absorbing narrative. But it will have a weight & insistence & explicitness that the poetry, perhaps, manages to carry only indirectly.
If it has the insistence & explicitness, then perhaps it does not even need the weight, & can move quickly
*in response to Andrew Joron's Fathom
** & Calvino's Six Memos for the New Millenium
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Time to step up & lead, Barack
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/barton-kunstler-phd/time-for-obama-to-fight-a_b_275332.html
President Obama is the boxer who came out with one big swing (the crowd roars-- Guantanomo closing!), settled into his more conservative game plan based on scouting reports, and then, after a couple bloody rounds, finds himself in worse shape than he thought---- but who still has the capacity to fight, and to get the crowd on his side---if he would just show a little life
CUBE SONG
for Eric
You put a cube in the desert.
It starts to melt.
It fills with water.
It makes the desert colder.
Leaves don’t really exist
The animals are drifting
A few still come to drink at the windows
*
I know I said that
I know I don’t remember
President Obama is the boxer who came out with one big swing (the crowd roars-- Guantanomo closing!), settled into his more conservative game plan based on scouting reports, and then, after a couple bloody rounds, finds himself in worse shape than he thought---- but who still has the capacity to fight, and to get the crowd on his side---if he would just show a little life
CUBE SONG
for Eric
You put a cube in the desert.
It starts to melt.
It fills with water.
It makes the desert colder.
Leaves don’t really exist
The animals are drifting
A few still come to drink at the windows
*
I know I said that
I know I don’t remember
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