Sunday, July 26, 2009

Have been feeling oddly empty

recently. Am unable to determine why, but have some guesses; however, let's just say my psyche is in the horse latitudes and/or the horse latitudes are in it. Here is a little something I wrote two days ago: Others There are a million voices out there, and they all keep changing: clippity, clippity, chug, chug, bitter as butterflies. ---------------------------------------- Received another prize-winning book from the Academy of American Poets. Am reading it. That is, I was reading it. Perhaps I'm totally out-of-sync with the variant new ways of writing even though some of those ways I have used in my writing. In any case, next to nothing is exciting me, not even Fanny Howe or Franz Wright. There's an old song I one day tried to track down, something about "and the days go by" is in its chorus. Have it in my head it's a song by Devo; so am going to try a Devo songs search. Have grown tired of my minimal song lyrics, but an autobio project which is not yet ready to continue posting awaits/ and poems to be added to Scatterings which are in nearby folders. It's just hard these days. rho00364


William Michaelian said...

Sometimes we are the wind,
sometimes we are the bell,
sometimes we are the hollow
space the sound rings through.

Joseph Hutchison said...

Did you just "make that up," William? Wondeful! And Brian, my own psyche's sailed the horse latitudes, and books like the one you mention (I received it too) are little help. Hang in there!

William Michaelian said...

Joe, I confess, that little poem was my spur-of-the-moment invention.

Quite often, I derive more comfort and sustenance from books by leaving them closed.

brian (baj) salchert said...

Thank you, William and Joseph.

"...spur-of-the-moment..." = inspiration, amd inspiration often is wonderful.

"Hang in..." I will.