Day Three

14 Winter 3 Moon 57 Space Age – 3 January 2014

When I was younger, much younger, late teens and early twenties, I believed what happened in my day to day life was not really worth writing about no, my poetry and prose should be about more fantastic things than ordinary life but

later I came to think that the ordinary is worth writing about, sometime around twenty or thirty years ago, in my thirties and forties I began to believe that maybe the day to day, the quotidian reality, was worth recording

and so my poetry – and prose – changed more and more back into something overtly personal, things I felt, saw, experienced, people I knew and know, events that happened to me,  just while I was walking around and

well, but that is somewhat of an un-truth since my poems have always had an element of the personal in them, it’s just that I… instead of writing about what I saw, I used to think I had to be some kind of spectacle

and yet my first verses, or rather the first ones I called “poetry” – written when I was sixteen – were about actors in a production of Hamlet I was working at the local community college, yes, that was personal

but then I began to believe I needed spectacular dream power, that the ordinary me wasn’t enough I needed kings and queens and devils and angels raging fire across heaven or hell but no then I came back to where

it all begins, all politics is local, all poetry is personal and from there and only from there we make the connection to the universe or something but who cares anyway it’s nothing but words and I am only writing

only scribble scribble scribble so there here then yes okay .



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