stumbling drunk through poetry

04.28.11: Found a chance to experiment with a Blues formula—laying out lines of strategic, repeating phrases— based on the old Robert Johnson tracks. In particular, his “Crossroad Blues” always haunted me—on many different levels. Johnson captures a strong sense of isolation in this song. The lyrics soak in a heavy desperation, an extreme loneliness.

For myself, I began with the construction of a framework based on folk-logic—the manner a culture will explain aspects of human behavior through natural elements, or how natural objects become personified with human qualities. What I’ve used are universal insects as stepping stones to explain the persona’s emotions: mosquito, fly, wasp, moth.

But I do need to add brief scenes of mundane, everyday experience to counter balance the notions of magic-realism. True to form I’ll more than likely chuck out all sense of logic—delve closer to the psychological weakness of the persona. He shows a sense of isolation—but at the moment nothing is well defined. He appears more as an observer of his surroundings, rather than a participant.
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04.30.11: Feel as if I’m stumbling drunk through poetry. Case in point, with the blues-poem in development, it seems to need additional three or more verses. It sits truncated, without a closing rhyming couplet. It lacks a resounding, firm resolution which expresses a clear concept of my theme: the fear of the future, of the unknowable element. Furthermore, it remains untitled. Usually the title emerges first, and then the work. I cannot explain it. This is how my creative brain works. A tentative path needs to be seen, if only vague notions of directions: dirt and loose gravel. On a plus, I managed to rummage through plausible titles. Random blues, Mundane blues, Existential blues…
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Half-an-hour-later: after consulting a rhyming dictionary and juggling placement of stanzas—I think the issue is resolved. Going for: “Devil Wasp Blues”— now the sense of direction is established.
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05.01.11: Phrases from nowhere: fractured:
the stone split in half / Brendan smiled
Dream of Saint Brendan
Brendan dreaming of the Whale
Saint Brendan Dreaming of the Whale
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Brendan, my child, dreaming of the whale, which becomes the story of St. Brendan and the whale, with a quote from the text.

Just as well I couldn’t sleep tonight. Brendan woke at 11 o’clock hungry, ravenous, as if he were never fed in his life. Within fifteen minutes he devours seven ounces of formula and collapses back to sleep.Of course, now I am more awake. Trying to relax, concentrate on the white noise of a fan or the air conditioner in the vents.

May have finished “Devil Wasp Blues”—which makes reference to Brendan twice as a background figure. Very little reality exists in the piece. It shows a reactionary approach to the world.
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05.04.11: After a delay, finally found time to work developing the structure of my Quintet MS. It does have a structure, yes. Must retain the positive sense of what changes have appeared in the text. Tomorrow when I print it off then I can be over-critical. Pin-point hints of weakness in the sequence. At this moment, I should feel the satisfaction of creating over 50 solid pages of work.
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Odd restlessness in my head tonight: cannot concentrate. The ideas of potential possibilities keep interrupting the actuality of the now moment. I should be finding another verse for “Devil Wasp Blues” or at least composing a haiku—
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Once I have Quintet in working order—next on the list is to return to the preliminary MS and sort it out. Resurface the emotional depths—circulate it to publishers—almost every one of the poems were printed by various magazines. It carries a worth.