Lolland

Poem

4/10-01 Maribo. Bus to and from school.

html, 10.2 kb.; doc, 23.5 kb., 183 lines, 654 words.

First line came sitting on the bus, then a certain fluidity, random thought. Layers interactive. Though not purposeful... at least sketches a landscape::::somewhere between physical and non-physical. I'm painting at school now, and working in Flash. Stuck on writing novel. Words just poured out. We're broke and stressed.

A 'dump' piece, reading essay "Dharmadhatu" by Kang-Nam Oh, then dumping it out onto the page. How do I arrive at the form? Is this raku? Is this an interpretation, a filtering, a Reader's Digest version, a misinterpretation, simplemindedness, lost, befuddlement, or loss of power? The form fairly free. The rhythm of language everything. Enjambment of thought, more than of words, and forced associations, rather than free associations. Gathers. But meaning is hard.

Went to a meeting of the editors for the language school's newspaper, I'm volunteering helping them get out their next issue. My friend B. came up to me (this was soon after Sept. 11), and said he was so sorry - I told him I was quite shaken by the event, but that I'm even more worried about what is going to happen. He said he felt guilty, somehow, impossibly - he's muslim. Strange that he should feel guilty, I thought. Now I realize it's how I feel every time an American does something horrible - how I feel guilty - like over the 140,000 dead in the Gulf War - I felt guilty...

Handwritten, loose.

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Lolland