Vacations for me stop my life in midstream. I am immersed in idle waters. And baptized in a way to a new consciousness, not a conversion, but still some new insight. It’s not something easily communicated or even understood. It’s more like something perceived. I know too often it disappears in the rush of the everyday that surely comes no matter how I wish it wouldn’t. But maybe if I blog it, it will come (for good).
My work no longer is fulfilling, but let me leave that at that. Instead, I’d like to concentrate on my avocation: poetry. I don’t wish to quantify the angels on the tip of an iambic foot nor question the political significance of language. What I do want to do, though, is articulate, what Van Morrison called, the inarticulate speech of the heart, if to no one but myself. Why? Because, as a conscious being, I can. And because, like Everest, it’s there. But most importantly, because I want to.
(to be continued)
AGING PERHAPS, BUT NEVER OLD
-
I do not advocate making this kind of hokku a habit, because it tends to
perpetuate the notion of the verse form as a kind of flippant game.
Nonetheless, t...
4 days ago

No comments:
Post a Comment