It's so annoying to have such stress leading up to writing. It's been that way with this blog lately. What can I say? What can I write?
I can say yesterday was a false alarm for fall weather in NC. Today I am wearing a light sweater to teach and I am sweating. Damn.
While I still enjoy visionary poetry on occassion I find myself drawn toward poetry that attempts to deal with the social conditions of 21st century American life (or Irish life). For example:
Rod Smith, Mark Wallace, Adam Good, Lyn Hejinian, Rosmarie Waldrop, Mairead Byrne, Maurice Scully (to name only a few)
Maybe it's the language. I read poetry with "poetic diction" and enjoy it on occassion, but it doesn't spark me up.
As cliche as it is, I want to experience freedom as much as possible (freedom is never static).
I was listening to Mipo radio last night and Amy King was interviewing Linh Dihn (you should check it out if you haven't yet:
Mipo Radio )
anyway, Linh mentioned being between cultures (Vietnam and America) and not being fully accepted or integrated into either. I can relate to that experience, although in my case it's a little different. I can pass for American (skin color and accent being primary), but I most of early identity was forged in N. Ireland and Milton Keynes England. When I go home to Ireland I am an American (again my lost accent), but I feel most comfortable and at peace in N. Ireland.
So I am between.
Which is also an interesting way to think about writing. Not watered down this or that (James Tate's watered down surrealism for example) but a true crossing between. Rhizomatic as well as collage.
The ongoing struggle so vital to my living. Art/Life.
A critical in-between. Aware in other words. Aware IN OTHER WORDS!