I'm not really into poetry in a big way, but I really like this poem I encountered in a reading this morning.
A rhyme's
. . .
a barrel of dynamite.
A line is a fuse
that's lit.
The line smoulders,
the rhyme explodes -
and by the stanza
a city
is blown to bits.
Mayakovsky, 1926
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I can appreciate it on one aesthetic level (the intellectual, formal one), but on another level (for lack of a better term, 'embodied' level), it's a little destructive for my taste. The power of the word, y'know.
To each their own...
Little known fact:
Jamie Pold is into poetry........
BIG TIME.
Ok, that may be a fact, but is it true?
Cause if it is, I think we should start a poetry reading group once I am back in Ottawa.....
BIG TIME.
Jamie is an incredible writer with passion only few can emulate. Ask him about his latest writing, "carnivour heights"
I will; bet on it! Why doesn't Jamie post it here?
I watched as he weeped while reading from his scrapbook. Wild thoughts were rampant in my brain mixed with both erotic and fatherly emotions. I wanted to sweep him up and put him inside me...
jesus, thats hot!
My computer screen is all steamy. Hey Anonymous, what do you look like?
What are looks but a superficial wound, seeping with terror and self doubt. We all deserve to look deeper into the ripples and cracks - thats where you find truths.
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