When I start to write, I try to make of myself a blank slate...left with just the impulse that got me there, at the lone scrimmage. I sit quietly...waiting.... Until an interesting thought or phrase, can be even one word eagerly presenting itself. Then I begin the poem, letting the impulse lead beyond. To me, poetry, along with everything else a writer uses for definition and motivation, above all else is viewed as sacred -- alive and independent literary expression in a manic, schizoid way:)
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Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among pink-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each white mausoleum, to inquire—
What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?
('Completing the Pattern' by Michael R. Burch)
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Writing poetry to ease my manic mind.
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The way to kill a God is to forget about them. Ask the Greeks, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Norse, Mesopotamians, Incas, Aztecs, Germanic Tribes, Mongols, Easter Islanders, Hawaiians, Romans and Wall Street.
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