Thanks, Doug. I threw it in against the tide to see how it would go. I
am glad you had a positive response, and Janet too and I 'think' Anny
>g< ...
The word 'sincerity' seems to have a range of meanings on this block -
all the way from 'honesty' to 'sentimentality' ... Interesting:
sincerity in art is the first requirement, but without some true
feeling behind the work, what's the use of writing it.
A play, a film, a novel - all of which I've written - they are
different fields of play. I have been more distanced as a presence,
but perhaps more artful in saying what I needed to say through other
strategies - of plot, characterisation, etc.
Yours sincerely (playfully)
Andrew
On 06/06/07, Douglas Barbour <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Now there's an 'I' I can dig, owing much to O'Hara's, I think, but very
> much your own, there, at the moment of, Andrew.
>
> And the run on sense of sensing it all works here....
>
> Doug
> On 5-Jun-07, at 7:57 PM, andrew burke wrote:
>
> > There is a man who sits at the edge of the polluted pool
> > every morning when I put the kettle on and again in
> > the evening as I wash-up dishes and make a cup of tea.
> > All this evening there has been the droning sound of
> > a marital argument in Mandarin upstairs in
> > the Party Secretary's unit, and now the slamming of
> > this building's front door with its tricky locks. A moth
> > flies at the light as I enter the kitchen to make a late night
> > cup of tea. I'll use the earlier bag again. I talk
> > calmly to the moth but it has flown up into
> > the extractor fan's hood. No need for heroics, I say.
> > That's when the front door really slammed,
> > even though I put it in earlier in this poem, eager
> > to get the job underway, to find the next poem. And
> > form? I often hope to burst into flame, to
> > whistle forth a libretto or a fresh example of
> > exotica, as I sit here in tee-shirt and jeans, late night,
> > typing on a laptop, my back to the window where,
> > just perhaps - and I will turn around in just a moment
> > when I've finished typing this - where, perhaps,
> > the next poem sticks its tongue out at me and jeers
> > in any one of the world's many tongues,
> > _Catch me if you can, catch me if you can._
> > There is a man who sits at the edge of the polluted pool
> > every morning and again in the evening. For all I know
> > he may be there right now, fishing in the dark, 11.38pm.
> >
> >
> >
> > All criticisms welcome.
> >
> >
> > Andrew
> > http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
> > http://www.inblogs.net/hispirits
> > http://www.flickr.com/photos/aburke/
> >
> >
> Douglas Barbour
> 11655 - 72 Avenue NW
> Edmonton Ab T6G 0B9
> (780) 436 3320
> http://www.ualberta.ca/~dbarbour/
>
> Latest book: Continuations (with Sheila E Murphy)
> http://www.uap.ualberta.ca/UAP.asp?LID=41&bookID=664
>
>
> Art has to be forgotten: Beauty must be realized.
>
> Piet Mondrian
>
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
http://www.inblogs.net/hispirits
http://www.flickr.com/photos/aburke/
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