Ratist Community Rating
No reviews yet
Your Score Estimate
Rate a few books to unlock your estimate
Community breakdown
Bars show the community-aggregated score per category. Rate this book to contribute.
I am writing this on the 60th day of my incarceration. The wrath of Nature still rages outside-- the 24/7 news says that in certain parts of the world, the contagion is contained, lessened, spreading, coming back--basically news reporting has morphed into poetry, where anything is possible. Time folds-- to the past, to the future, to the present, and for this instance in our time on earth, time is truly different all over the world. It's a hard concept to accept because we live in an age where instantaneous communication and visuals can be viewed from the watches we wear on our wrists to 65' flat screen TV's that cost a fraction of what they would have 5 years ago. We have become accustomed to the immediate.So now Nature fights back and says, wait a moment, a moment in Nature meaning it could be eons if She so chose. For her, our troubles are but a blemish on her skin; it itches, She scratches, a page in her really thick book of time turns.Which, of course, in the Jayverse of creation leads this conversation back to me. Of course, like you, I want more than anything for the world to return to whatever normal it can achieve back in our lifetimes, and our lifetimes...I want them to be as long and as healthy as they can be. Nature turns a page in her really big book of conundrums, and here in your hands is another really big book of similar non-sequential extrapolations of time and space; a book of poetry that is quite literally bursting with all those things that makes humans unique (and has Nature scratching her head because to her, rocks and trees and river streams exist unthinking and, to paraphrase a popular sneaker sentiment, Just Do It. A book of poetry that is brimming with all the emotions: love, hate, sadness, disappointment, lust, happiness, contentment, awe, wonder, disgust, feeling empowered and dipping to weak, proud, resentment, acceptance, greed, selflessness, sated, empty, silly, on and on the list goes. When I wrote these poems I was every emotion that existed. I was you. And now like you I sit in my dwelling wondering when once again I can go out into the world to get all messy again.This is the second anthology of my poetry. Every single poem in the first collection and in this one were written on my iPhones, starting with the iPhone 5s and the latest, the iPhone Max. 99% of the poems were first inspired by a photograph I'd taken, the connection revealing itself as I wrote. Some of the connections were quite literal, others much more esoteric. For years I thought that I could never detach the poems from the pictures; for me (I told myself) they would loose context. They would be a rock or a river or tree, perhaps pretty to look at, but having no emotion. The exercise of compiling the first book freed my inhibitions. I found confidence as I fine tuned the poetry; the process made me become a better editor. As in that collection, I still feel the need to annotate each poem with a bit of subtext at the bottom-- you be the judge if this is important for you to enjoy the experience.Thank you once again for the gift of your attention. I wait like you to go out into the world. Until then, and during the entire process of this reintegration into Nature, I hope you find some inspiration (or any type of human emotion) reading my words.
