TheThe Poetry
≡ Menu

[Feeling Fucked Up]

No one wants to appear childlike and vulnerable to others, but everyone (everyone who seeks out new experiences, anyway) wants to feel that way--along with love, awe is the one of the emotions people seek most deeply. And for writers, whose job is to express the inexpressible, the hidden, these two aims can feel at odds.

The translated poems seem more interested in criticizing Chinese society than aesthetic expression. In spite of these issues, the translators should be respected for their down-to-earth choice of the poems.

I was concerned about not knowing. Concerned about not being known. Yet I did little to be known outside of persevering with the work. The work being whatever I was doing at the time in my virtual creative space. Mind, body. Divine intervention. Spiritual revelation. The meaning of every day was living every day as if to make it your last. Life was simple. Inevitable.

Ben Pease interviews Ken Chen on the Scattered Rhymes Podcast.

James Copeland is a tall man, who rides a tall bike, drinks tall drinks, and writes tall poetry.

[Poem for Easter]

A question I've been toying with: can one photograph in such a way as to make that invisible visible? In such a way as to make the photography part of the photograph? To show the texture of the thing, and not erase it?

Abominable Ladies and Gentleman, thank me for coming!

Thin Kimono is a book of mistaken identities: a hallucinogenic wandering through a cocktail party the night before the invention of the internet. The party is populated with individuals you may or may not know. Your wife is a slightly altered version of herself.

Ben Pease interviews Colin Cheney on the Scattered Rhymes Podcasts.

The first poem I ever loved was The Raven. Specifically, one line from the poem haunted me when I was young, and still does: “The silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain.”

[dearest,]

If all art does is make us stroke our chins and say in somber tones, "very interesting," then art isn't worth it to me.

We must always be as careful with nostalgia as we are with most forms of vulgarity: it is too close to the whore's heart, and can be used by politicians to promote a "purity," an Edenic return that supports the most vile sense of the volk.

Paradoxically, the Beats depicted themselves and the society they were rejecting in surreal imagery. America, in their estimation is a surrealist circus, full of absurdities.