The nine nine nine poems before this seem to me
\nlike the Dead Sea Scrolls:
\nfragments of hardly decipherable scratchings
\non nested fragments of thought.<\/p>\n
Sometimes, I can tune in to the grainy
\ncopies of the original synapse impulses
\nthat formed them; they creak into motion
\nlike images in a flip-book:
\njerky stick-figures mimicking a little boy
\nretrieving his toad, or a sad tall son
\nrelieving his desperation by walking
\nthe gravel shoulder on the
\nlong road to town.<\/p>\n
I thumb through fat binders stuffed with printouts, wordcurrents<\/em> is both humbling That is why I do this; This is the one thousandth original poem I have written and posted in wordcurrents since I started this blog on February 14, 2006. With the exception of summer 2007, and the period July 1, 2008 to August 31, 2009 (when I limited my output to an occasional sixty-four poems) I have posted a new poem every day. I started the project to force myself to write in order to break a seven year writer’s block. The result has been that my left brain has learned to interpret my right brain far more effectively than had previously been the case. I do not claim that many or any of these works are masterpieces, but I am certainly pleased with some of them. I intend to continue writing for wordcurrents; however, I am hoping to find some guest poets who will spell me off so I can look after the revisions and editing that I would like to do. This includes editing my own work, and possibly editing the work of some other poets who asked me to take a look at their work. The Internet has certainly been a boon to this writer. To the many readers of wordcurrents, thank you. Continue reading
\nsearch wordcurrents<\/em> archive by month, by tag,
\nby category, by menu list, by favorites,
\nby clicking on pingbacks and user searches,
\nand so on\u2014 each takes me to
\nan approximation of some plot-point
\nin my life, laid here for all to see,
\nand thousands have come.<\/p>\n
\nand frustrating; my inadequacies frustrate me,
\nthe interest humbles me.
\nPoetry is the left brain expressing the right brain;
\nit is not so accessible on the surface as
\ngraphic art and music,
\nbut it is an essential part
\nof a culture’s expression
\nof why we are here
\nand who we are
\nand what this is for.<\/p>\n
\nit’s all you need to know.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"