11-04-2023, 10:34 PM
Muchas gracias, I will listen to these soon.
I read the first few Ashbery poems, in between readings of the Guevara biography. The poems are a genuine revelation/liberation. By coincidence (or not), they collided with pages of the biography which revealed Che as a cold-blooded killer. I'm not exactly reeling, but I'm feeling an excitement that's been missing and presumed lost during these days of being overly concerned about my inner organs.
And I wrote a poem about it for LPiA, pure imitation, but better than anything I've written in months. (Emerson said "Imitation is suicide" but you've got to start somewhere when you are as lost in the funhouse as I am).
That will be my next poem, something called The Funhouse.
Your posts, along with my reading of Wallace Stevens, prepared me for this moment. Now I can participate in my own revolution. It will probably end as all revolutions do, by devouring me, but that's OK. My Self is ready to blend into the mountains and jungle and kill or be killed (figuratively speaking) and maybe some better poems will be left behind. At least that's my goal, my Forlorn Hope.
I read the first few Ashbery poems, in between readings of the Guevara biography. The poems are a genuine revelation/liberation. By coincidence (or not), they collided with pages of the biography which revealed Che as a cold-blooded killer. I'm not exactly reeling, but I'm feeling an excitement that's been missing and presumed lost during these days of being overly concerned about my inner organs.
And I wrote a poem about it for LPiA, pure imitation, but better than anything I've written in months. (Emerson said "Imitation is suicide" but you've got to start somewhere when you are as lost in the funhouse as I am).
That will be my next poem, something called The Funhouse.
Your posts, along with my reading of Wallace Stevens, prepared me for this moment. Now I can participate in my own revolution. It will probably end as all revolutions do, by devouring me, but that's OK. My Self is ready to blend into the mountains and jungle and kill or be killed (figuratively speaking) and maybe some better poems will be left behind. At least that's my goal, my Forlorn Hope.