chance operations
lately and without noticing, i have been inclined towards a more violent, coarse kind of poetry. this violence and toughness is not necessarily a bad quality. i had been drawn to the raw, the ripe, the uninhibited, the passionate. to the overindulgence of animal behavior. not just sex either. to the sensations of deep internal pain, love, confusion, dirt, dry rain and other non-refined goods.
to the surprising turns within a poem. i had been engaged in this spike and thrash of poetry.
what i woke up to find today was myself un-drugged for the first time in what feels like far too long and the "chance operations". i read it silently, without moving my lips. [i often read poetry with my lips, not just my eyes; i prefer to sound it out.]
it reads fluently, one poem to the next. the audio files are charming and the images warm and fluid.
the zen aesthetic.
part of the charm, is in the poets that participate. there's something untouchable. the poets do not push against one another, do not play off one another, do not change each other, do not compete with one another. instead, there's an ebb and flow of translation, transition and fluid communication. they're like a school of monks [/poets] scattered throughout a beautiful garden [/blog]. as you stroll [/scroll] you find them hiding behind the big rocks and under the cherry trees.
lately and without noticing, i have been inclined towards a more violent, coarse kind of poetry. this violence and toughness is not necessarily a bad quality. i had been drawn to the raw, the ripe, the uninhibited, the passionate. to the overindulgence of animal behavior. not just sex either. to the sensations of deep internal pain, love, confusion, dirt, dry rain and other non-refined goods.
to the surprising turns within a poem. i had been engaged in this spike and thrash of poetry.
what i woke up to find today was myself un-drugged for the first time in what feels like far too long and the "chance operations". i read it silently, without moving my lips. [i often read poetry with my lips, not just my eyes; i prefer to sound it out.]
it reads fluently, one poem to the next. the audio files are charming and the images warm and fluid.
the zen aesthetic.
part of the charm, is in the poets that participate. there's something untouchable. the poets do not push against one another, do not play off one another, do not change each other, do not compete with one another. instead, there's an ebb and flow of translation, transition and fluid communication. they're like a school of monks [/poets] scattered throughout a beautiful garden [/blog]. as you stroll [/scroll] you find them hiding behind the big rocks and under the cherry trees.
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