small press poets take note...

"...if you put a musician in a place where he has to do something different from what he does all the time, then he can do that - but he's got to think differently in order to do it. He has to use his imagination, be more creative, more innovative; he's got to take risks. He's got to play above what he knows - far above it - and... what that might lead to might take him above that! So he'll be freer, will expect things differently, he will anticipate and know something different is coming down. Play above what you know, then anything can happen, and that's where great art and music happens..." - Miles Davis

good advice. what's the function of art after all? is it just to get our feelings out? I thought that's why people had diaries. I mean, when does the graduation occur from 'my kid could paint that' writing to something larger, to something that strives to really explore the possibilities of poetry written in simple but musical language? it's a problem of personal ambition and a lack of real passion for the artform as a means of deeper expression, I think. and also a surplus of self-satisfaction with less than one's best effort.

Miles never looked back, couldn't stand to repeat himself in his search for a way "in." I mean, I think I've read that poem that continues to be writ these days more than enough, and, really, isn't there anything else to say? hell, even that bullshit flarf is more interesting than hearing folks' journal entries again and again and again. and also: who cares how tough some poet thinks they are if their poems aren't saying anything? it's just silly romanticism at some point, no?

anyway, I suppose it's no different from staying at a job you hate or in a relationship you can no longer tolerate or in a town you've long ago grown sick of simply because it's comfortable. people keep writing the same poetry because it's comfortable. easy. no fear of rejection or mistakes. better the monster you know, right?

bah, of course it's all moot if our economy continues to collapse. then we'll all be writing poems about what it's like to live in a world where we all work just so we can afford to put gas in the car to get to work to put gas in the car while an endless War On TehRoar offshores the rest of our treasury. maybe we'll have time to write poems while standing in line for food?

just saying...