• Poetry Snark
  • Saturday, July 02, 2005

    Thus returned

    Yes, yes, friends, my errant focus has been a matter of some distraction in such timely fashions! But returned I am, indeed, friends, to the topics of the day. A generous portion of my inclination of late seems to want to respond to so many of the issues that float to the surface at poetrysnark.blogspot.com, while the other pull, of course, is the open & honorable discussion of my climes of present & yore, yes, yes, & what they represent in the broader cosmology of poetics, being & that now Lycean princess, or so it would seem, Beauty. Yes, yes, friends, I make no scruples about it, for the pursuit of such a lady as she seems righteous, noble & valiant, even in its utter futility. Recall rilke friends, "beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror." & no, dear readers, I seek not a life perpetuated in Wes Craven-like deathscapes with eery crescendoes echoing in semi-dark farm towns, no, no, but I seek an apex, a crest, an acme, a distilled moment in which the ineluctable is secondary & the form is primary. Time, yes, time will sweep our ashes to the rivers, friends, & that Styxian boatman shall take our token with neither smile nor frown, & truth be told once we are bound to Sheol, we are bound, alas, to our imminent forgetting. Thus my friends, it is Beauty that I seek to woo, Beauty that I chase in Apolline blindness, & be she Daphne or Jezebel, her coattails stir behind her like the rhetoric of T. Swift come bellowing out of his anus, only more beautifully, more delicately, less advertantly & more purely. I see two screens in my mind, dear friends, one upon which I see her, yes, yes, pure Beauty drawing water of a well, & in the other I hear the buzzing rancor that attends to the dubious, the idiotic & the tritely self-aggrandizing, & I see in both some merit, friends. A day awakens anew each blessed dawn, & each dawn I choose, Beauty or ballast. Well, friends, where is the world whole like once it seemed, in those remote years decades ago, our life a cicada song, a nightingale's sonorous madrigal? Where now those familiar enchantments, those moments of awe, those acmes I seek & find so devastatingly absent? Where, friends, is the world whole again?


    Blogger Snark said...

    It is as if our blogs have united in a passionate embrace, my verbose friend, and the echoes of snarking love resound betwixt the halls of poetry...

    7:39 AM  

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