Between the hundred climbs I've taken up the vine & the birth of my son something happened to the way I perceive words & worlds. The gist seems to be,& PK Dick & William Blake would agree here, telling a lie
is murder to a mind & all our modern minds are half dead with
the lies we are forced to swallow & utter daily. The Cheyenne have no names for gods, they have these amazing old compound nouns that mean things like the beautiful mystery that powers all life. For a basically honest person like you, Jim, Rational Meaning gets little traction but for the habitues of the precincts of poetry it is a great antidote. I feel like it saved me from having to write
the poem that was going to explain
so called nonverbal reality which was leading me into madness,albeit
mighty cool, but madness nonetheless. I'll be hashing this one out so much that all y'all'll read the book & shut me up with statements like:Duh?! Frank.
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- frank 4-13-2001 7:10 am