Particularized Noises In the Landscape of Language Or the Gift Called: Poetry

Most, already, are too far gone along the way of the quest, even to recognize what may underlie the formulation of a question, and I do mean any question, but I should presently emit a quality of sparkles very soon or you may prejudice this communique, given the incomparable value of time; of what is good then, and what is evil; the primacy of experience; the metaphorical door of our senses which may seem too large a target; comprehending the universe of the universal but to return instead to some "Point of Departure" which may come into view only when one turns around again; "starting fresh" as the expression instructs, shucked of the political baggage to apply the fulcrum of a focal's aspiration. And this in the way of an introduction but it is you; "The center of the universe" whose attention I must favor to successfully deliver this gift. There exist today two distinct and easily recognizable creatures that inhabit the land and land-scape's of Poetry. One belongs to the "School of Verse" who insist it defines an aspect of poetry, and the others who would include "Free-Verse" in that definition. I once called it: 'The eternal non sequitur of prose poetry' in the introduction to my " Poem"~ "A Poetic Mess" ~ at: Poetrysoup.com/poem/a_poetic_mess_900696. ] [ Part: The first of #X ] Notes: _________ When brush meets canvas you recognize the tools, the materials and the artist but, when words start playing in your head and you scribble them quickly on the most convenient surface, you know the stuff of which it's made, but can you really say you know the author? O' Schools' of all the great gods of all the world, please stay out of these garden encounters!