Dear All
I do wonder sometimes whether i've been cheated out of a life by language.
that as a poet i've chosen to live in the experience of language rather than
the experience of experience.
that i should get out more, not write more.
that i should stop endlessly trying to work in abstractions that might begin
in or with experience but don't take me back there.
that language is a basic evolutionary mistake. a bad idea. a waste of time.
but there again.
when i have a wonder like this.
i normally end up writing a poem about it.
makes you think doesn't it?
ian
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