Self and reality. Symbol and language. Myth and image. Memory and consciousness.
Dream and unreality: locus communis.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

A Full Sense of Self Lingers

Building the second phase of the Metamodern poems written by my English 1302 classes. Although the semester ended early December, I am still constructing the idea outside of the performance of the poem’s recital.

Aside from moon imagery, I also carry an obsession with visual representations of the pomegranate.
For the approaching Spring 2015 term I need to streamline the concept— have images prepared in advance of the students’ participation.
Sleep may be hard tonight—drank coffee late in the afternoon. A full sense of self lingers under the ribcage. A pulsating awareness of identity slip within the organs, under the flesh, hidden within my pomegranate heart.
—and then, to my annoyance I left a scrap of paper in the car containing brief ideas for future short poems. Which now I cannot recollect. Repositioning of previous ideas, yet rearranged into a new sequence of thought. There is time of course tomorrow to walk the short distance between desk and garage, to redistribute the process. Yet, despite the hour and the wet wind— Yes. Hesitation is one of my greatest “skills.”
Reread Paul Celan’s “Death Fugues”— An example of the importance of abstraction in poetry. Why surreal images matter. Bitter reminder of the dangers of complacency. The opening line's use of "black milk" always prepares the reader for future themes of disorder and confusion.
Aside from moon imagery, I also carry an obsession with visual representations of the pomegranate. The fruit by itself contains an extreme cultural and mythical history—by itself it demonstrates the links to humanity’s early understanding of metaphor and symbol.

In part, aside from the mystical themes it carries, the whole nature of the secrets each leathery orb contains suggests prospects of literary elements. The multitude of seeds, in the end, become each a diverse representation of the whole fruit.

Metaphorically it easily becomes an image of a blood-moon, heavily cratered, broken shell of a forgotten history.

It represents poetry. The bitter-sweet translations of ideas. A creative process.

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