my noumenon aesthetic

                                                          
                                                      
   When a noumenon in a womb in my subconscious brain
begins to become a noumenon of a different order as it
passes into my conscious brain, I do not apply a pre-
determined aesthetic to it unless there's a valid reason
to; rather, I say to myself: let it come, and let me see.
Many, if not most, such mental noumena are not amorphous.
Aesthetic qualities abide in them.  These qualities may
not be familiar ones, but they are (through attentiveness
and inspection) discoverable.  Sometimes such noumena
arrive fully formed, and can be (through the body of the
receiver of them) immediately turned into phenomena.  At
other times, brief to lengthy periods of parenting are
required.  At yet other times they are shunted aside or
eventually abandoned (for whatever reason or no reason).
                                                        
   This eclectic trust I have, this openness to the         
universe does have its dangers, but it also allows the
influx of life-enhancing noumena I would not otherwise
be blessed by.  Therefore, I see myself as being hard
to categorize, especially as regards my poem-making.
Still, I generally lean toward being conservative, a     
stance which--along with my solitary bent--I suspect   
relegates me (in this world as it is) to the status of
one who is of little account.  I realize my mentioning
this highlights a fault in me, but I have written about
this so often it hardly matters anymore.  My life has
taken many goodly and ungoodly turns.  There were long
periods when I distanced myself from poetry.  This is
not one of them.  Honestly, I am desperately trying to
catch up.  Right now, though, I need a lunch break.    
                                                          
   I'm back, but without sufficient energy.  Just before
returning here, I did an "http" search and/ faster than
bird shit/ got a response of nearly 2 billion sites. Ah
cyberspace!: the perfect place/ for a flutterby face.
                                                           
                                                             
                                                          
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 See directory2007 in Catmap.
                                                      
                                                          
                                                        
                                                           
See at lime-tree.blogspot.com/2007/08/poem-is-you.html                                                           
 The Poem Is You

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  Brian Salchert   Thinking Lizard  
  
Rho00012