The River
March 7, 2012 by at 8:08 am
I love Jonathan Potter’s poem, The River. When he posted himself reading a version of it awhile back, it really struck me. I listened to it several times, and that is when I ordered House Of Words from Amazon.
First line that struck me was “like bearings in fresh oil.” I don’t know why. I just loved the imagery’s tactile viscosity. I would love to stick my hands into an oil pan of bearings and fresh oil. I could go deeper into sacramental imagery, but I don’t feel like it here. I want to move down the river a bit.
The next line, and this is when it got emotional for me, “I need the river like that man needs that drink at the end of a long day.” This lit a fuse in my mind. Perhaps it was the sound of his no nonsense voice as he read, but these words were preaching empathy to me. I know that feeling. I became conscious of it a long time ago, and how drink offers us a respite from life’s troubles. I never did, but many people choose a river of alcohol rather than Jonathan’s river. But Jonathan’s river is much deeper and more powerful than the drink at the end of a long day.
After the drink line, the poem gets supernatural. You feel the power of the river now. You hear the river ghosts whispering directly into your soul. The words from this point forward were mystical and carried me into transcendent space outside of time. I felt the power of the river flow through me. And for a few minutes I knew that someone else on our planet “got it.” I was not alone, and there was Hope.
So many people walk the face of the earth unconscious, and unable to grasp the absolute beauty around them. I was troubled and unconscious the day I listened to Jonathan read his poem. The words woke me up, and reminded me of Christ and that I believe in Him. It reminded me of Beauty and that there is Truth. This Beauty is all around us and art awakens us to it.
Small though you may be keep striving to create your art. You never know the souls you touch or how God will awaken people through your work. I am not sure what Jonathan meant by his words. I suppose the River could be a metaphor for Christ. It was for me. It does not matter if that was Jonathan’s intention, what matters is that he captured transcendence. He captured a little bit of eternity. What a great gift to give, and I am grateful to him for striving to capture it. It is like receiving a small relic of the true cross. So never give up or be discouraged your work is sacred.
I memorized a poem!
February 25, 2012 by at 8:50 am
The End of the Twentieth Century
As performed at the Legion of Doom headquarters in Spokane, Wash., February 17, 2012.
House of Words Deleted Scenes: “Shakespeare’s Inferno”
February 18, 2012 by at 1:50 pm
Shakespeare’s Inferno
One day Shakespeare lost a sonnet full
Of metaphors made out of leather and dye
Writ in blood on a graveyard skull
Before his pen and ink and mind ran dry.
The time I wrote a poem to you, you saved
It as a monument to incinerate
Your dreams in the fire of while you paved
A sacred cow path through a narrow gate.
Now the sounds of slaughter filter down
From the ivory tower to the silver mine
To where you stand in blood-stained cap and gown
In line at the cafeteria where devils dine.
You wander halls and corridors like Cain,
Cradling your pound of flesh exchanged for pain.
House of Words Deleted Scenes: “e.e.”
February 12, 2012 by at 3:36 pm
e.e.
one snowdrop
falls and the
mountain tremblesone rainflake
sings and
shatters the mold.one roughfaced
man(with the
child’s eyes)builds a
sunbeam out
of laughterwrites a
poem with
the sky
House of Words Deleted Scenes: “Short Story”
February 5, 2012 by at 9:15 am
Short Story
Your turn of that page
has opened a drawer.
My home. I am his underwear.
He’ll always show you
the contents of his drawers
but never what he’s wearing.
He’s that kind of fellow.
But I’ll give you a clue:
I am his only pair of boxers.
To put it briefly,
he suffers a shortage.
Why only one of me?
Why only one day
of freedom per week
when he could have seven?
That is the question
I once heard
his girlfriend ask.
He replied like Robert Frost
that a little freedom
is almost too much
and went home and
put on briefs.
Short changed.
Doubt as an Avenue of Communication
I want to hang onto this comment of Angelico’s and the passage he quoted from Ratzinger’s Introduction to Christianity, because I see it as key, possibly, to the unique character of Korrektiv. I re-quote it here as a placemarker for further consideration.
Could this serve as a formative piece of that Korrektiv Press manifesto or mission statement we’ve been casting about for? The fine print at the bottom of that gravestone?