The Surprising Journey

A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep. - Salman Rushdie


I think one of the most fascinating acts of writing is to discover that you have arrived someplace that you didn't think that you could possibly get to from where you were. To do the impossible or at minimum the improbable. I'm not talking about achieving some status. Yes, I'd fall over clutching my heart if I got a call that I was the next poet laureate. That is not at all what I am talking about. What I am speaking of is to be writing and all of a sudden to realize that you have learned something. The very creation of your piece of work opened up your eyes. By your own creation, you arrived at a point or place that you were not trying to reach. That is such a incredible event to a poet. Such is what keeps me writing... even on bad days.

Finding Themeo

James over at Love During Wartime has me wondering if my life has a theme. From my initial blank stare, I'm thinking no. Surely there has to be at least a thread that runs through this fragile accumulation of years that I call a life, that exhibits some evidence of a theme. Still, I'm clueless.

I suppose I could look backwards (a talent that must be good for something) and see points in my life where I might have had something of a theme going on. Doing this little exercise could be important to something I have been toying with lately. The thought of trying to write an autobiographical poem. Not a four or five stanza poem that summarizes my life. Something a little more lengthily. I don't think I am talking as extravagant as Eileen Tabios's brick. Still, something that could allow me to compartmentalize my life into segments with metaphorical adaptation. Why, I'm not sure. Maybe it would make a more interesting read from that standpoint.

Anyway, James has put a thought in my head (scary as that may seem) and now it is going to bug me until I can work through this and come up with some answers. I'm wondering if this is one of those things you can think too much about. Like maybe the first thing that pops into your head is more significant than trying to think it through in deep thought. Forcing it, so to speak. Yes, I'm obsessing now. Thanks James, for the ensuing headache I feel coming on.

Break

Bright gold raged most of the weekend
Brassy in the crisp blue sky
Till nightfall when clouds pushed the envelope
Rain, hail and winds did calisthenics
Morning brought an overcast chill
And talk of snow tomorrow

Under theTellingtree Anthology Reading & Signing

Some thirty- five people attended the reading & signing last night at B & N - Zona Rosa Shopping Center. Was nice to have some people that were just shopping stop by to listen. They had to set up a few extra chairs. We have another at the northland area Boarders tomorrow afternoon 2:30 to 4:30. Six of the authors featured in the book were present and read.

Weather is so nice today - Going to take Barry for a walk after while. Have a yard project I want to get done while the weather is nice. I'll read and do some writing later today.

Last day of the work week is half over!

Friday

This is a good thing!

Tiananmen Mother by Michael Wells

Thursday - I pinched myself. I'm still among the living!

Ivy talks about the application process for a residency at the The MacDowell Colony - worth reading for those interested in such an experience.

Eileen is posting on her blog now in such a way that makes clicking on the links more challenging if you are drunk or not.

V-lo's charm is again available for your viewing over at ~gila-monster~

Cassie Lewis has been silent close to two months now... Perhaps a snow shoveling expedition is in order.

James admits to getting lost in Kansas City, Kansas.

Why did I just do an around-the-poetry-world blog post? I'm speechless!