Quote: Jorge Luis Borges On poetry

Poetry springs from something deeper; it’s beyond intelligence…It’s a thing of its own; it has a nature of its own.

Trust and communication

You’re writing, and without realizing it you are exiting and not saving and you ask is there something I should know? and the reply is even I don’t believe it.
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There’s a word for it

There’s a word for it,
that thing we’ve danced around all night, but never got to.
Those cross sections of the multidimensional, which I call continuum strands in my Poemcraft.

Poemspace is a dimensional shift which can occur in one of two ways: 1) naturally or 2) summoned by the dark arts of the seasoned wizard.

In cause the 1st you learn how to sense poems, how to hone in on them, and how to let them happen.

In cause the second you meditate, you empty, you transcend. The stained glass window shatters in a blaze of golden light, oh glory!

And praise and bless!

Buddhists have a word for it, the unity that welds whiplash tails of continuum in a single moment as he approaches enlightenment, awakening.

Poems are mini-awakenings!

In poemspace an infinite number of hungry mouths roar out of their egg sacs. They lunge and snap in infinite hunger. There is no hope no escape, all you can do is stay still and study the disfigured mouths. Look close behind those ragged teeth and torn lips and there are tiny Buddhas with semaphore flags. Each thousand mouths is a letter, each thousand thousand a lesson in dread.

In poemspace infinite lilies bloom infinite seeds of compassion. It’s true, there is one who awakened but chose to stay behind to empathize with tortured souls.

In poemspace now shifts to craft. That is… a tilt of the head and swirls of golden orbs flash in and out of here/now. Sometimes they leave streamers. Those streamers are the connections between dimensions, the strands of continuum—the things you go after.

A Practitioner’s Guide

It’s the pastels that draw you into the cover,
and then a brown on brown on brown tree becomes beside a woman in green and white robes.
She whispers to the horizon and when you look up five-pointed stars and outlines of stars spin and dance higher and higher
she reaches back and plucks an orb from the tree.

Introducing Poemcraft

I feel an ideological shift afoot. I am documenting how it informs my understanding of and relationship to poetry. The working title of this construct is Poemcraft.

Poemcraft comes on the heels of A Soul in Progress which can be seen as the philosophical premiss (as opposed to antecedent) of Poemcraft. I did a lousy job documenting A Soul in Progress, although over time you may get your fair share of it—I have many many notebooks to transcribe which, I want to say, have a lot on the subject.

Over time I will bury ASiP alive, leaving no trace except for whispers and innuendo. Only those that remember Poemcraft was once A Soul in Progress will understand the decisions I made as that entity. There will be a surge of interest in seeking the original premiss. There will be a reaction to that. And eventually Progressive Proemcraft will emerge as the compromise. This is the way of the world.