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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required When does ambiguously free verse also become emphatically political verbing verse? I was emphatically reading pieces ambiguously written about my sons, to my oldest son's girlfriend. The longer I read the more she cried. Now it had been my hope and passion to become the next Kurt Vonnegut of PolyCulturing Healthy Outcome Design, or at least John Irving at his all ecopolitical lives matter, and not, satirical best, and so I finally had to ask, Are these tears of sadness? Yes and no. Sometimes, says she, mostly happy that someone else sees him as I do when I am at my best, but sadness too that we live in your world of our own re-creation about what you write is too often left unsaid uncreated or even thought about. I thought this might be a compliment and so I read bravely on through her quiet tears of sad happiness until she asked me to stop. Could you teach me to write like you? No. I doubt I could even help you write like you. Why, are you having trouble writing by and of yourself? Yes. I worry I have nothing to say, no place to safely yet nakedly lay. About half the poets and novelists believe that is a prerequisite to great literature and becoming an authentically mature artiste. Having nothing to say. Yes. But saying whatever very well. And the other half, what they mainly have to say is to have something to pray which you would be wiser through hearing yourself display what you just said. And if they believed as does the opposing mindless half then they would not embarrass themselves by writing any no thing at all. Well, which is right, do you think? More to your point, which is right about your writing? If you can trust each empty page longs to fill with your good humor and best wisdom, then you might begin by having nothing on your Left languaged mind except some brief turn of lyrical phrase or return of some event devoid of context which musefully incarnates as content as your pen rolls along each shaping word and returning phrase and four dimensional as seasonal reasonal harmonic lines and sentences for joyful life, not just lonely sad death. Next thing you know sad dying cooperatively together restores joyful life justice where lived sad loves evilly alone and you are editing in search of paragraphs to create sufficient spaces between maturing lines of thought you heard as one compare/contrast before you've always said and hoped someday to read, then editing through pages of ego/eco-logical content about... what? We're not sure until we're done. ----------------------------------------------------------- She was crying again. So I found an old barely used notebook and a fresh pen, a nearly full box of gaily pure white tissue and handed them to her, Suggesting she might write about tears of sad yet lovely joy. Where might I best begin, she wisely asks. At the top, either left or right depending on which hemisphere you most speak, I not so wisely answer. And, the first principle of multicultural story telling is to be sure your reader continues to understand and appreciate and feel gratitude for your protagonist inevitably our favorite underdog, because life's a joyful sad but what are we going to gratefully do with her, or it, and them? The pen and notebook? In your left and right hands? So, I just start at the top and re-imagine us whether protagonist-in with antagonist-out, or potential future solution within a vexing co-present problem, ways we choose to fold and unfold sad space as also joyful time of opportunity? Spoken as a true tragic-comedy loving physicist pretending to become a metaphysical teller of history, your story, written as we speak together in domesticating yet still wild imaginations, political thought experiments, narratives, prose as also poetry. Precisely as I see our sadly joyful situation too. All we have are protagonist underdogs and antagonist overlords, and each lies both sadly and joyously across each bicameral heart and mind singing When I fall in nondual co-arising love, we will be forever, Reading stories of favorite sons to tearful joys of future daughters for revolutionary story telling, more cooperative than my damnably antagonistic overlording sons! When did ambiguously free verse also become emphatically democratic reverse?
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