Paul, you already know I think this is beautiful. You've inspired me to keep my hands in the fertile earth of that good old "Divine Heart Garden"... love

"There's no time for hatred - only questions..." - Jeff Buckley

Zaadz Visionary Music: michaelgarfield.zaadz.com

Paul, I should have said 'Reality Feast'. Cheers, Doug W http://douglasrwallack.gaia.com/

I'm compelled, Sir, to submit myself as an aspirant to same!

Moreover, I appreciate your wonderful explication of it on two levels. First, as a cogent description of a first-rate likelihood; then as an external validation for the reader efficaciously making that aspiration! Please correct me if I got it completely wrong.

Finally, you seem to confirm a strong encouragement for me to continue an impassioned pursuit of this *calling progressiveness* — as deeply penetrating as it is decidedly penultimate, eh?

Your essay sure seemed "...The best words in the best order..." — like the preceding quote, its own example.

¥

Bounden thanks Michael and Doug. Always good to connect with you. Lehmberg: I appreciate your interpretation. As far as the pursuit of "this calling progressiveness" goes...I cheer you on. cj: Would love to hear more from you. flowers and leaves, Paul Lonely www.suicidedictionary.com

Hee hee! I love it.

<p>Now tear it up.</p>

Hi Stella.

 Glad you enjoyed!

And I agree.

Consider it torn.

 Paul Lonely www.suicidedictionary.com

If you fall in love with a poem it could be for all the seasons that the words change color before your eyes it could be because the most beautiful girl you saw once had all those colors in hers

If you fall so easy and so fast and so hard you might never know what hit you it may never come through the words that came after the fact may never recover the inital kiss that sent your spiraling down that path of gypsy leaves and follow your ever stranger bliss

She was your first muse,she held all marvels in her smile, she had those lips that would launch Homer and Starships,Oh if you read Flowers of Evil a few years later and Descended with Rimbaud into the underworld in his Drunken Boat, or walked slow down the steps of the golden reflected gnostic-gutter, of Byzantium

Would that be all she wrote?

ah, the poet is such a butterfly that flies through a book of poems, without getting pressed like a Kafka stamp in the flight of Kittyhawk and the fight of Don Qixote, whirling at literary windmills with a chop stick pen,

and when her lilly-lips memory ignites in you that unholy flame that you like the gypsymoth dash toward, again, and again poem after poem, crucible of ecstasy and madness, reeling on the Persain carpit sea of exquisite sadness and bitter-sweet refrain,

oh this against the grain, symbolist gladness to reach for the blessed damn pen, over and over, like some crazed rover, that rolls and tucks, and spins yarns, and tales, and impossible conjunctions with star-crossed lovers, and Gurjiefian devils, with Keats out in the ode to a Nightingale street.

this blasted poet, like the babel-tower, like the good and evil twilight of his own idle idol, this keeper of karmic world weary words to sing of his neverending love for her shiny glass bowl eyes, her shiny glass bowl eyes, shiny glass

bowl, this goddess that comes to set the poet's heart in history whirling into rants and raves into revolutions of the sun into grand promenades of reciting every star by name every god and goddess by trait and reveal by gate and grail, by amorphous veil and cohear to the vital mystery scent of her,

tincture- tear voice, her lovely letter shape that lingers in the galactic corridor beconing toward leaping-quantum lover-fields,

of fare-ever-more

it's what she wore

that you so adore

amour amour

its that look

in her text

that you tore

that you tare

the fragile page

to the last rose petal

 

where the poems, beloved of dandelions

were born on the eternal glance, ah kismet!

 

2/27/2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

CJ: I'm guessing that's original work. If so, I'm a new fan and would love to see more. Here's my personal email address:

paul_lonely_merryweather@hotmail.com

apples and pears,

 Paul Lonely

<p> 

www.suicidedictionary.com

like everything i put on RealitySandwich, i sat and got into a place, and this is what, place came, at this zero-point i was reading some of your stuff on your site, and a little of the interview, i like Ken Wilber, and your poetry is very unique and very shall i say scholarly, it holds great treasure to the eyes. i'm a complete work in motion, i have not settled in on a great meditation of a work, such as yours,well the novel i want to publish is, in its own way so my poetry is, just well, happening as i go. like what i just put on here. orange and pomegranate

cj

the thing is, i sort of recycle the cycle

 

 

Paul, Thank you for your post. I have to fervently disagree, however, with most points here expressed. To differentiate between poetic "levels" in this simplistic way (in fact, to create a caste system of poets, as you've done) does not speak to the nature of Effort, and fails to recognize the constancy of poetic thought in every person. And denying the worth of postmodernity is in no way integral thinking. Fragmentation is a part of the human experience, as is masturbation, as is irony, and as in fact is insanity, quite often. A poetry that seeks to represent our current cultural/political zeitgeist will not consistently bring Joy or Heart to its readership. The purposes of poetics are more complex than the lightening of hearts. To narrow the scope of what we call "poetry", and to fling barbs at the great writers of the last century, is to do a great injustice to scholarship, and indeed to an integral view which might seek to understand the reasons why this poetry exists and is so powerful.

Greetings ColieCC! Thanks so much for your reply! I have a few questions and comments of my own: 1) Do you deny the *reality* of hierarchy? Or more aptly put, holarchy? I'm not saying one "type" of poetry is necessarily "better" than another. I AM saying certain poets and their poetry have more DEPTH. For me, not all poets "level of consciousness" are equal. I don't consider this a rigid "caste system." Would you disagree? I apologize for this being too "simplistic" for your tastes. Obviously this piece is not "academic." If you'd like to see papers/books making the same "points" in a "less artistic" fashion, I'll be happy to point you in the right direction. 2) I never denied "the constancy of poetic thought in every person." However, once again, I will say I believe "this constancy" will have varying degrees of depth depending on the "world-space" of the "thinker." I think you may put too much emphasis on "Effort." One can't write about a world one LITERALLY can't see. No amount of effort will change this. In short, pomo's see a world that modern's can't see. And it's my argument that a new emerging "integral consciousness" can see a world that pomo's and moderns can't see. Once again, these are literally different worlds (there is no pre-given world, right?). Effort, in a certain sense, is surely valuable. But your dependency on effort seems to me little more than a "light-hearted" message which is ultimately unrealistic. A message that would easily fall into "idiot compassion." 3) I do not "deny the worth of post-modernity." You have not read my piece closely enough. I use the phrase "transcend and include." I did not use the phrase "transcend and NEGATE." I highly value the post-modern contribution. And parts of it have most definitely been integrated into my work. 4) Fragmentation and the other things you list are definitely "part of the human experience." I couldn't agree more. Once again, "transcend and include." 5)Depends what your definitions of "Joy" and "Heart" are. Especially if you're using capital letters on purpose. However, I think I 'get' what you're saying. I agree poetry won't always be "soft" (as my book will show you). 6) I agree the "purpose of poetry is more complex than lightening of hearts." Once again, read my book and I'm sure you'll see that I back this statement up. 7) As far as "narrowing the scope", "flinging barbs" and "understanding the reasons why this poetry exists"...Sorry, but once again, I don't think you understand my work or what this piece is saying. I appreciate the work of the great writers of the past century. Deeply. What I'm saying is that writers/poets/artists of our century (for the most part) are stuck in the same mode of consciousness and are merely creating a series of horizontal TRANSLATIONS. By calling for (and representing) TRANSFORMATION, in no way am I taking anything away from my predecessors accomplishments. Once again, transcend and include. And this is not an "injustice to scholarship." I think "integral consciousness" will be and is the beginnings of a new kind/level of scholarship. Thanks again for your response. I enjoy the dialogue. Sincerely, Paul Lonely www.suicidedictionary.com

i sing and pray and dance and draw and sing and ponder. i'm simultaneously omniverted. "nykolas nykolad?... at once, a fascinating presentation of a collective individual." I am in homage unto immaculate existential expression. perfect compassion. ambiguous specificity most ambiguously. inherent love form. immaculate super composure. echo spectral expression. ASMA, ILF, ISC, ESE. ah, PSACAH. presently synchronizing all congruent alternate histories. of invocation of epiconsolidation. entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem, (perhaps)*, all love, nykolas. all is complimentary most is supplementary some is rudimentary one is alldimensionary none is trancendentiary swan of consciousness spawned dawn of time at first unwanted then unwind the precious snow of downy grace the curvature of perfect placed the simple peddle round the glass the mentioned motion subtle fast hair of benton left at first retained the wanton lack of curse so factured fractures made a round the hallowed left the sight and sound still she moves or moveth not the swan requests to breathe the dot re turn the guise of yester we're dispell the ocean's festered fears one breath to cleanse one breath to 'bate ten breaths to dispose reseverate for swan is revered as river flows the sample station of compose the simple ration of all disclose www.myspace.com/nykolad

living the life of a poet the poet of a life i followed down as many paths as my complex experience could endure, this took the forms and shape of applying a kind of desperado formula that perhaps in some cases is what gets confused with the reasons of the poet,

one would be feign to explain this process, except if one were to almost become a monastic poet, as it were, where this disipline that when in the world of the poet the poem of the street takes on its own guise and cloak of wonder,

Where as in the former one exists in a kind of alchemic fluid bathed in ambient texture of amber monkhood dedicated to the charting of universes, to gathering languages and its bastard childern in great volumes of

illuminated letters, paralled by the brothern poet wanderers who are conduits of psychic poetic transmisions from the belly of the beast, the ruins of the great temple of Axis bold as Love Bards, and the magickal cathedral of endless passages invisible on stone and at the same time the messages are there to be deciphered by the ones whom come after,

AS the drinkers of nepenthe forget to remember the transcripts hidden in the coptic jars, forget to see the writing on the wall by walking between the lines that lay there through the centuries; These immortal trues are sleeping in the road waiting for the bones to settle and the ancesters to rattle in the heaps of leaves that are alters to the great poems of creation and transformation to stir up the chi in the leaf masks that speak in the whirl of voice and awaken the fallen flags of nature's heavenly palace,

AS the great hurtling extravaganzas of exalted orders of time and space sweep by the reasoned scribes of seasoned stories and lores, as myth gathers no moss, but what serves that ephemeral order, the wandering sleeping gypsies of street corner to street corner pass through the narrow passages between here and there, between doctorine and hallucination, between change and the book of changes, between then and now,

Between gross history and mutant mystery, the whirling letters transmute matter, sing the radiant rhythms of talismatic translusence and shift the fulcrum of the holy fragments to listen and hear the underlying spirit breath flowing effortlessly under the ground of being, the sea of nectar that is floating in supersensonic nadis of omnidirectional living language reaching around the pillar the henge and the pyramids of spoken word.

For down in the deeps of Neptune's vast universal kingdom the fishes move in and out the colossal symbols carved in the waves of his desire.He sits with trident and pearls of great wisdom in his mighty lap, As Nessie snuggles by his feet of Philosopher-poets, foot notes.

a great Howl travels the grandiloquent decadent happenings of Beatnik splendor.The golden aura of the Beat Buddha and the flower children whose rainbows rip through the Joycian wake up call to poster modern be bop revolutions with talkin jazz mantras.Translated sculptures of free-form rip-a-zags and rebazaps roam the roads wasted lands.Raping raging from the podium and pulp-it. Open mics, and macrocosms converge.The poet is born bloody screamin and quoting Blake or Bukowski."Born into this"

The spiritual spirit of the times sings its body electric neon chants to the rowdy rowdy throngs of the great unwashed.

For down in the of the bongo alleys and the alleycats and the found art garbage cans, the freedom poems are scralled on the underground wonderwall."Rub out the word"

a rub- a dub

 

Let's not forget fake poets . We all know about false prophets, but is there such a thing as a false poet?

http://www.eyohey.com/

ecolocal: Would love to read what you mean by "false poet." From your perspective, how would this differ from a false prophet? Thanks. Paul Lonely www.suicidedictionary.com

there have always been mouth pieces of the powerful, if they play the use highfalutin predictions of dire tidings game that serve the purpose of keeping the people uneducated.

the "seer " poet or as i call it the street corner mock preacher poet, that mimics prophetic language of false prophets, by sounding almost Biblical with taking liberties with stories,and scripture, therefore the stories take on a sorts of hyped up meanings and nuance.

This is strikingly similar to speaking in tongues and all the metaphors that that can bring to mind.It takes a story like Jonah and the Whale, and with all the mythology down the road, we get the mythic white whale and Moby Dick.If it weren't for the tinkering of the poets all these stories would have faded out long ago.And in that same vein, i'm speaking of the Bards and Troubadours, and various assundry wastrels that dabble with roses are red.

The thin line between creative inspiration and madness is so thin that philosophers could write volumes about it, in fact they have.That's why false prophets always look mad at you.That's why poets have to be more then " too clever"because they write their verses under the nose of the Emperor.And in the olden days in India, for instance they traveled and sang their poetic vision.If they pleased the Raja they got to eat at the feast of the gods.Otherwise if they made one false sound or triped over a phrase, and it came out what they were really thinking, they would most likely end up out in the jungle with the tigers and monkeys.And maybe worse, if one of the Raja's wives were either displeased or attracted to the handsome Bard.

Life is hard for the people, so they have to amuse themselves with verse, and sometimes with a poem on thier lips they enter into realms of the imagination that speak a prophetic sounding but revolutionary passion that transforms into some great penned exalted visionary music of written subtley.Layer upon layer of texture and shear silken spoken.Like Rumi.

But a poet like Rumi comes once in an age, and then the lesser seers must pick up the thread, and make slack.Back on the track of finding new ways, of sayin stuff that makes people stop and think, or sends them in a swoon of estatic wonderment.Or it traipses on the path of wild revelation.

To revel in sweeps of astounding word upheaval and breaking down the walls of translation and finding exotic combinations,in everyday use, and just plane off the wall chance encounters with the unknown tongue.

However, this comes down the tube, however a poet is born, we have every kind of possible fancy and type of poetry.The last great poet of reason Alexander Pope was a whit of dexterity of twist of subtle meaning and a barbed tongue that made mince meat of his lesser poet competition, he also was best friends with Jonathan Swift.

And you can't be too swift with the words that move mountains and make the earth shake in its gypsy boots.

And make the ladies blush and bring color to their mysterious almond eyes.

Comte de Lautremont, said, poerty is like a river,

and so it is....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for this conversation, Paul, but I, like ColieCC, take issue with most of the points expressed. Your call for an integral, seer-poetics is inspiring, yet I question the direction this poetics would take based on the above assumptions. On the one hand, your invocation of Pound and Elliot, paired with a notion of essentialist (B)eauty, suggests a return to Modernist metaphysics rather than a post-post-modern "final stage," while your dismissal of Olson and the entirety of post-modern poetics as nihilistically assuming there's "no such thing as truth" is, as ColieCC suggested, simplistic. In fact, the poet's medium is neither "ideas" nor "things"; it is language. Accordingly, a call for poetics to desist from "overhauling language" is as nostalgic as the goal to assemble "the best words in the best order" is redundant with the definition of poetry. Words are simply all the poet has, and, as Wittgenstein said, "whereof one cannot speak, one must remain silent." It's an imprecise tool that the poet weilds, and much of post-modern poetry is a reaction to this fact -- one that will not by nature disappear. Still, the poet will strive to communicate, and at least the post-modernist has abandoned the notion this communication will encounter anything more than human experience. What is more integral than Olson's inter-subjectivity? What's more beautiful than "art for art's sake"? Ironic, self-reflexivity aside (a legitimate criticism of SOME post-modern art), it has only been the post-modern poet that has so-far taken language for its purely aesthetic qualities. Moreover, I respect the place you're coming from, Paul. If a return is in order, it is certainly to the heart. Only, let's not forget, as Integral Philosophy tells us, the ground we've thus far covered. Let's tear open a new paradigm, not revert to an onanistic parody of modernism that posits the poet as some annointed conduit to spirit.

Hi Josh. Thanks for this. You make a few fine points. I wrote this piece for an "integral event" held in LA a few weeks back. I knew most of the crowd would be integrally informed (ie Wilber readers) so maybe I was a little careless with the "assumptions" I seem to make. Point being: I wrote this for a crowd who had read Suicide Dictionary and knew how dependent I was/am on the achievements of post-modernity. As I stated to ColieCC, this is meant to be more of an "artistic" piece. If you prefer a more "academic" rendering of my manifesto, my good friend and fellow integral writer Keith Martin-Smith is putting the finishing touches on a 15 page integral art manifesto. I think you'll like it. I don't have a lot of time to reply (working on a new book) but I'll quickly run over a few of your statements I take issue with. 1. I am NOT denying the achievements of post-modernity. And I am not simplistically putting the entire era under an umbrella that is a the performative contradiction (ie no such thing as truth). In my piece, I'm taking a stance against the pathological tendencies of the post-modern (in Wilber speak, dissociation of the lower left quadrant). Each wave has healthy and unhealthy aspects. From my perspective, contemporary art is, for the most part, unhealthy. 2. I do NOT dismiss Olson (entirely). I specifically put his name in the manifesto to show what an influence he's had on my work. His essay "Projective Verse" was instrumental to my development. In short, he's relevant. 3. Yes, the poet's medium is language. But to take "ideas" and "things" away from the poet seems silly. That's not integral (denial of upper left and all exteriors). Plus language itself is also an idea and a thing when looked at from different perspectives. I don't agree that "words are all the poet has." I understand what you're saying from your perspective. But that's not integral as I interpret it. 4. Actually (in the piece) I ENCOURAGE an overhauling of our rationally based languages. Which is the exact opposite of what you suggest. I think you just mis-read. 5. The "imprecise tool" can be made more precise. 6. "Poetry is the best words in the best order." Redundant? Probably. Still it's one of my favorite S. T. Coleridge quotes (deep bow to the romantics). And explains a big reason why I choose poetry over prose as my expression of choice. 7. What is more integral than Olson's inter-subjectivity? Not quite sure what you mean by this? There are a number of ways to go about answering this. At this point I'll say this: I am not denying the importance of inter-subjectivity. If you read your response closely, you seem to put a lot of emphasis on the the lower left quadrant (intersubjectivity). Which is fine. But I hope you're not forgetting the UL, UR, and LR. 8. Love that Wittgenstein quote. I have it hanging on my wall. 9. What's more beautiful than art for art's sake. I think I answered that. For me it's Art for Spirit's sake. 10. "Let's not forget the ground we've covered." Once again, I'm not. If and when you read Suicide Dictionary you'll find that I pay tribute to most if not all my predecessors. As I responded to Colie CC: I said "transcend and include" not "transcend and negate". 11. And finally...The poet IS a conduit of Spirit. How can you deny that? Not the ONLY conduit of spirit. But a conduit nonetheless. Please feel free to continue this discussion. I will no longer be able to reply to postings in this manner. I am currently working on a new book and need to spend my time reading, writing and meditating. Thanks so much everyone for the time you've taken to respond. I really appreciate the feedback. apples and pears, Paul Paul Lonely www.suicidedictionary.com

i don't think the surface was ever scratched here, because no matter how you categorize poetry, it will always defy it. it can't do anything else, it is pure honesty. and the more honest you are, the more people will try to put in it in a straight jacket of nice neat reference points. people need to feel that there is some place this is all going, some great sum of all parts, some one final resting place of poets. the more you try to put into concocted cross referenced descriptions of mental states and higher consciousness states, the less you care about the poetry it becomes just another mental territory to place in some just wonderful system.

so, and i haven't read Suicide Dictionary, but i read what the author put on here, and his responses that defend his position, and i'm sure there is plenty of admiration for his work.

i mean how could there not be, now we can be rest assured that all is in hand, and the integration is on its way.

it almost makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.Take the R out of romantic revolution, and and the tic out of (tock) romantic, and you get....roman evolution.

 

hows that for a poetic nonentity?

Colie CC wrote:

The purposes of poetics are more complex than the lightening of hearts.

That sums it up very succinctly. 

Growing a divine heart garden is not the same as lightening hearts. Alex Grey is not Thomas Kinkade. Balance is not kitsch.

A question I have for the entire "What is Enlightenment?" movement: what of those who don't know they're integral/integrated beings? What of those who naturally write/exist in a place of acceptance and openness? A book I'm reading right now: "Povel" by Geraldine Kim. Kim writes in a highly ironic but intensely exposed tone, emphasizing the everyday utterances of her world. The cost of a slushy or the strange comment of a passer-by enters equal to her own thought. It is, in short, a mosh, and one that serves to render life in an incredibly direct way -- scattershot, as we feel it. My point: she leaves the reader a place to USE the text, a tool, for the purposes we're able. Poets must understand that their work spills over a flooded market, and in recognizing that, they must guess at its relevance, hope for connection, and at all times maintain humility, understanding that they've only tried another way to realize a best existence for themselves (and hopefully others). It seems to me that Paul Lonely (and, regretably, I have not read his book) has a hightened idea of the functions his poetry performs in this world, and is thus able to suppose that ALL poetry should and hopes to be as informed as he would have his own be. Please respond, world! I am disturbed at the elistism that the word "integral" sometimes draws from those who have read an ounce of Wilber!

a pound of Pound

a speck of surrealism

a dot of Dada

a tun of Transcendental, season with, random rub out the word

a drop of Dada a drop of Dada a drop of not Dada

a rain of romantic revolution

a bunch of Blake

a tablespoon of time bandits

a handful of strawberry quantum fields forever

a bag of Beat a nip of nik

a lick of Lorca

a nip of Neruda

a whipcream of Whitman

a pit of Poe

a rack of Robertson Jeffers

a bit of Bly

a weight of William Everson

a bit of Bukowski

a bushel of Breton

a pinch of poetry made by all

a relish of Rimbaud

a gram of Ginsberg

a kilo of Kerouac

mix lighty with all your favorte poets,

stir in automatic writing

i'll spice with Golden Sardines with Bobby Kaufman

and ten pounds of Philip Lamantia

and a touch of the marvelous

 

oh, and a full cup of Leonard Cohen for coherence

and dollop of Dylan and Donovan will do

 

If i had a poet mentor, it was Philip Lamantia, but only from a distance, i called him on the phone when i was just attempting to write surrealist type poetry, he was kind, and spoke to me for long enough to initiate me over the telephone, me standing in a phone booth. Philip had one of those glossalia type minds that could layer sentences one over the other weaving a tapestry of quotes and random insights, perfect to inject my brain with the essentials.

i imagine something like this happened with Paul Lonely but only in a much more intimate setting, where as i had to make a phone call, and a trip up to Frisco to see Philip read his poetry, oh and i met other well known poets in similiar situations.

 

by the way, you met poets, when you go to poetry readings, and such like.

Hi Everyone,

 

In the spirit of trying to make this site the best that it possibly can be, I'd like to recommend that those who comment do their best to stay on topic and refrain from using the comment boxes as a means for disseminating their own art. I really like cjmoore's poems and enjoy reading them, however, I find the numerous comments posted by cj, as well as their length, to be distracting from the actual conversation about the post.

 

cj, perhaps you can start a blog and link to your posts? Many of us would like to read them, I'm sure, and I think Reality Sandwich will be a less cluttered place if you (as well as the rest of us) make our point(s) as succintly as possible and link out to the poem/blog post/manifesto that was inspired by your reading.

 

Just a suggestion!

 

Peace,

 

jp

Paul Lonely knows the ravages of all is fair in love and poetry!

poetry is visionary, its revolutionary, its intergal, and radickal.

 

KOSMIC KAOS, free your mind AND your ass will follow!!!!

For the record, CJ, i said I liked your poetry. I was just suggesting that a comment box isn't the right forum for it. I don't think of this site as my living room and I have no desire to control it. As such, I don't use it as my personal art dissemination device. I don't post excerpts from my book in the comment boxes because I have a blog where I can do that. All I was suggesting was that you rethink the way you use these comment boxes. As far as I can tell, one of the points of having comments is to discuss the piece at hand. I'm not sure if others have the same experience, but I often feel overwhelmed by your lengthy prose poems and it's my opinion that they distract from a discussion on the post.

 

Of course, you may rightly call me out on not discussing Paul's post directly myself. For the record I thought it was really great--thought provoking to the point that I'm still formulating my thoughts upon it. Perhaps I'll have a long response to the ideas he presents that I'll post as a blog post and link to in a comment box here, so that if folks are interested they can read what I have to say.

 

Peace,

 

jp

Hi CJ,

 

I just reread your reply to my comment and I wanted to express my regret for obviously touching a nerve with you. You say certain things that I find strange--implying that I'm trying to curtail your creativity or that you're someone I'd never talk to directly...just so you know, I'd have no problem telling you to your face that I like some of your poetry. I also have no problem telling you that I think you'd serve your poetry and this site better if you linked out to the longer pieces that you often post in these boxes. I said "Hi Everyone" because while I was using your comments as an example my suggestion was not just about you--it was a call for more succinct and on point comments throughout the site. Apologies if that wasn't clear.

 

It's fine if you disagree with me about my suggestion, although I think it has value. I in no way was trying to start a "coup" against you. Again, based on your hyperbolic reaction, I can only assume that I hurt you in some way, which was not my intention.

 

Your puffed-up response and name calling ("miss thought control") were really over-the-top considering all I offered was praise and a suggestion...a real poet should know how to handle both.

 

Peace,

 

jp

I have to say, I wouldn't be able to stomach a poetics incapable of irony. What I find most charming in individuals (as well as in poets) is the capacity to laugh at oneself, one's posturing, one's essential absurdity. I become especially skeptical when it is suggested that irony should be replaced by ideology ("non-dual," "Beautiful Sanity," etc.). The poem offered above, though pleasant in its iambic meanderings, strikes me as thinly veiled ideology (a combination of ideas from several spiritual traditions and a sprinkling of "Wilberism").

 

Often I've found that ideologues are those least able to appreciate irony. I think this is largely because irony undercuts and critiques ideology.

 

One last note: the blanket critique of poetry offered in this article strikes me as superficial. It makes the standard move to associate the "postmodern" with the "masturbatory" without defining "postmodernism" (so as to leave it in its vaguest and most all-encompassing form) or explaining what's wrong with masturbation (a bit of subterranean asceticism, there?). But the big point is this: one cannot unite the "poetry of the last century" or "fifty years" in any meaningful way -- at least not to dismiss it. This critique strikes me as having been written by someone not particularly familiar with contemporary poetry (or anything much beyond what's usually called "High Modernism").

 

As such, I find the critique superficial and the "new direction" preposterous. Forgive me for my honesty, but poetry means too much to me .