Does "it" matter? 

Aye, it does matter, otherwise, why would we spend all these years slogging away round a dried up well, snarling, strategically saying jolly horrid and wonderful things, tying ourselves in knots about what precisely 'it' is, Ms X handwritten, from the Styx with Charon and Don dualaíocht, woven murmering name upon name:

As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.

Fielded has the same two as me, aye, Yeats and Eliot the two to currently whup in verse. And this being impossible, imitate, push, aye, the memory of American poetry business, ye c'mon remember what when where and why 'it' is not the be all and end all, but a beginning and finish, commencement and ending, departure and return. The music singing the sound of what happens is 'it', 

A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;

...perhaps this is but the most important stanza of all Yeats composed, in his tortuous procedure of lineating prose line after line until a hard-won beauty appeared, beaten gold enamelling,

'language so bent against narrative that it lost its sense altogether' - Adam. He and I talk of poetry. Aye.

A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught. 

Eliot of course, c'mon and catch out ye coziers, fill the dreadful space with fumey glare, stand up straight, take that look from off yer face, coz you aint ever gonna blurt your heart out. So, Adam can wait, s/he knows it's too late as we're walking on by, so sad to sing, but don't snarl back in anger, don't smack back in anger, aye's heard to wail.

sigh and quote with learned looks
Precedents out of beautiful old books;
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.

Aye, does it really matter when we're all gonna die

"Oh there’s blood on the splinters
Of my mind, coz i’ve broken down
This wall just like its one last time
And you never cease to amaze
me, after all my mistakes you could
Learn so quickly - oh i’m not so
god-damn naive, and i’m not a well
Meaning acolyte for a troubled
Day at sea no more, oh no,"

Sleepy Rise@Craw Daddy

experience the singer, know our song

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRKGSA-Qlgw&feature=player_embedded


"All the stories
i wrote were true, because i believed
in what i saw.

I was travelling west one time
at the junction of the state line
of Colorado and its arid Western One
and the state line of Poor Utah

i saw in the clouds huge and masked
above the golden theory of even-fall

a great image of God - with a forefinger
pointed straight at me: through haloes
and rolls and gold folds that were like

existence at the gleaming spear
in his right hand would sayeth:

Go on boy
go down across the ground - go moan
for Man. go moan, go groan, go groan
alone - go roll your bones, alone.

go down and be little beneath my site
go down and be my nudist-seed in the pod
go down go dye thy heads and of this world
report you well and truly."

Aye Jack was the best live poet out that mob..

"Well i’m not as wise as i was
As a child, and i’m not just the back-
End of a colour from the light

oh but i’m sure that i could ever
Succeed, if i keep working so well
For those faces the summer leaves,

And without this truth, there’d
Be no fallacy, and without this
dream of mine, there can be no
there will be no reality:"