plain voice

May 27, 2008 at 6:53 pm | Posted in antihaiku, prosepoemthingy, writing | 8 Comments
Tags: , , ,

part one :-> the lesson of takeshi kitano and keith jarrett, trans’n’dance, a moment in time which transcends the human or what mr N was talking about wherein the image dissappears into the idea which is an empty structure, that is to say a jazz musician doesn’t just grab a random handful of notes out of the air and throw them down on the piano like an empty sound, a passion moves through it like some slick unattainable essence then there is a convolution by necessity beyond volition accompanied most often by the echo of drums in the ear, unsourceable, ricocheting around mamu like an evolution of orchids,


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  1. Your writing is like that of a stream of consciousness, has anyone told you that before? 😉
    Yes. The sad truth is, it isnt, it is very carefully crafted and edited and rehearsed so that it gives the illusion of spontaneous improvisation, cross my heart,

  2. so, is that akin to working real hard on your hairdo so that it seems you’ve done nothing to your hair?
    Haha exactly. Anything without linebeaks is assumed to be a free write.

  3. lovely. i love the way your words are like music. wonderful rhythmical arrangements that fill my senses with joy.
    Thankyou Lissa!

  4. I like ‘wherein’ creating the beginning of the concave spiral that follows. Unrelenting joy in weaving words shine bright, which is a terribly convoluted way of saying I totally agree.

    I’m not familiar with ‘mamu’ so it seems I should do some homework! but the indication was that it was a static, reliable state while all else was moving.

    Your tags made me chuckle but I would have added an extra tag of passion.
    Mamu is a mountain, you are right. I already have too many tags, I am trying to exercise some discipline with them, haha, discipline. Thank you for very perspicacious commenting behaviour. I truely appreciate it.

  5. Love:
    the image disappearing into the idea which is an empty structure
    doesn’t grab a handful of notes and throw them down on the piano
    a passion moving through it…like the evolution of orchids

    This is a beautiful poem about the poetic process. I struggle with all of this.

    You must be the only poet ever to start a poem with an Emoticon. And did you just end that one long sentence because you ran out of breath?
    haha, firstly who could not love a comment whose first word is Love with a capital letter, whoops sorry, in my own comment box i can be as crazy as I wanna be, stop struggling with it, practical taoism and art are perfect matches, but it becomes an act of faith at some point hahhah, run out of breath, circular breathing like the incredible didgeridoo,

  6. empty sound…. hmmmm… there’s a new concept for me… the sound of empty.
    hmmmm…. wandering away pondering….
    ahh, there you go, chase that one down lakota, haha, i love circles, round curves,

  7. echo of drums when all is very quiet is a feeling I frequently have. And truly there is no problem with my hearing or my mind!

    hmm, cool,

  8. i would love to hear you read it.
    thansk rick, on the weekend when lubricated but sober it is daunting, besides i hope you can hear my voice in it, wierdly,

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