H
hmmnmm
Guest
Happened to check the New Ones. Sometimes they appear early. Like the night before their official day. They have done just so this night. Seven so far. One shy of an 8 pack. Someone swiped it. The eighth one. Must have. Didn't look at them. Save that for tomorrow (assuming I shall still assume the Friday position in the special Friday chair at the special Friday Poetry Review post. I'll admit to the occasional ominous premonition that something pink will come soon, and not the pink more preferred). Okay, I told a wee lie. I looked at one of them. Just one. A peek. No more.
But speaking of happenings, I also happened to glance at a thought-provoking emotive-possessed cry for help the other day. Crying for understanding. It was a prominent and talented writer who wondered why poets didn't just come out and say what they mean and mean what they say... something like that.
I'll go ahead and take the plunge of a fool and try and explain. Not as a poet. But just as a person who has struggled with this since I realized I had memory. In fact this has been a major stumbler over the years.
Let's try this way: One person asks another, "what's your favorite color?" Simple question. The asker doesn't expect much more than a simple one word answer. And maybe many will do that, answer with one simple word: blue, red, purple, orange, green...
But other people, being asked the same thing, "what's your favorite color?" might suddenly freeze up. Not such a simple question to answer. You mean my favorite color right now? Today? You know there's a whole lotta colors. I really have nothing against any of them. They are all beautiful in their own way. Might be tempted to just say 'blue' because it's handy and not untrue. But then, it's like, well, I always say blue. But what about red. I like red too. Red and blue. Yellows. They look good in the winter. Yellow sun. Bright moon. Think of all the shades of gray. You can do a lot with just those shades. So it's not such a simple question. Not really.
Or, suppose someone said to a guitarist, "just play the thing! Just hit an E chord."
Uhh, okay... what kind of pick? thin, thick, medium, plastic, nylon, or no pick at all? thumb? do it close to the saddle, or closer to the neck? bang it or strum it, downstroke, upstroke? On an acoustic or electric? What kind of electric? Strat or les Paul? Which pickup selection? Want it clean or a touch of distortion or a lot of distortion or maybe a little chorus effect?
It just isn't so simple. But it's kind of a turn-on to see so many options at hand.
And if you want to talk about how a line of a poem will best be written... or one action that one character performs in a chunk of 'fiction'? Oh baby!
It isn't so simple.
And even then, whatever words are chosen to try and express what you hope to express, they are never really the right ones. Always another way. So go through as many as possible. Then the first one starts looking good again. And so it goes around and around and around and around and around. Not so simple. For the ones who are able to spit it out and get on to the next, I doff my hat. I can't do it. Can't finish things. Can't. Just can't. Even now. Just don't yell at me. Okay? You don't have to yell.
But speaking of happenings, I also happened to glance at a thought-provoking emotive-possessed cry for help the other day. Crying for understanding. It was a prominent and talented writer who wondered why poets didn't just come out and say what they mean and mean what they say... something like that.
I'll go ahead and take the plunge of a fool and try and explain. Not as a poet. But just as a person who has struggled with this since I realized I had memory. In fact this has been a major stumbler over the years.
Let's try this way: One person asks another, "what's your favorite color?" Simple question. The asker doesn't expect much more than a simple one word answer. And maybe many will do that, answer with one simple word: blue, red, purple, orange, green...
But other people, being asked the same thing, "what's your favorite color?" might suddenly freeze up. Not such a simple question to answer. You mean my favorite color right now? Today? You know there's a whole lotta colors. I really have nothing against any of them. They are all beautiful in their own way. Might be tempted to just say 'blue' because it's handy and not untrue. But then, it's like, well, I always say blue. But what about red. I like red too. Red and blue. Yellows. They look good in the winter. Yellow sun. Bright moon. Think of all the shades of gray. You can do a lot with just those shades. So it's not such a simple question. Not really.
Or, suppose someone said to a guitarist, "just play the thing! Just hit an E chord."
Uhh, okay... what kind of pick? thin, thick, medium, plastic, nylon, or no pick at all? thumb? do it close to the saddle, or closer to the neck? bang it or strum it, downstroke, upstroke? On an acoustic or electric? What kind of electric? Strat or les Paul? Which pickup selection? Want it clean or a touch of distortion or a lot of distortion or maybe a little chorus effect?
It just isn't so simple. But it's kind of a turn-on to see so many options at hand.
And if you want to talk about how a line of a poem will best be written... or one action that one character performs in a chunk of 'fiction'? Oh baby!
It isn't so simple.
And even then, whatever words are chosen to try and express what you hope to express, they are never really the right ones. Always another way. So go through as many as possible. Then the first one starts looking good again. And so it goes around and around and around and around and around. Not so simple. For the ones who are able to spit it out and get on to the next, I doff my hat. I can't do it. Can't finish things. Can't. Just can't. Even now. Just don't yell at me. Okay? You don't have to yell.
). 
