09-09-2025, 12:23 PM
Nothing is too much. The Mods seem on holiday and people always are best when they say whatever comes into their head. That's what I do.
The problem is that the leaf is still on the tree, still part of the same -hood or -dom.
Descending, the leaf is stuck. Ascending, the leaf is free from the Selfhood and all other hoods. Except maybe leaf-dom.
The Descending Path becomes more and more solidified and stuck in hoodness.
The Creation is the Fall. And the Tree is the stodgy system. The bottom a shadow version of the top. An Adverse Reflection.
That's the intention. My intention doesn't make any difference. Nevertheless, it was there.
Poems come right out. After that, I don't know much about how to do anything with them. I only know how other people write their poems when I critique them. I don't think about how I write my poems. I used to, and they were pretty much the same. So I got rid of the middleman. It's like an atmosphere-sensitive affect-quality churning-out device.
I don't know how my poems work. They do or they don't. That's how it's always been.
Besides, the Tree is supposed to be Blasted. The Blasted Tree is the last poem of a book I haven't finished, because it takes place in Danmark.
The problem is that the leaf is still on the tree, still part of the same -hood or -dom.
Descending, the leaf is stuck. Ascending, the leaf is free from the Selfhood and all other hoods. Except maybe leaf-dom.
The Descending Path becomes more and more solidified and stuck in hoodness.
The Creation is the Fall. And the Tree is the stodgy system. The bottom a shadow version of the top. An Adverse Reflection.
That's the intention. My intention doesn't make any difference. Nevertheless, it was there.
Poems come right out. After that, I don't know much about how to do anything with them. I only know how other people write their poems when I critique them. I don't think about how I write my poems. I used to, and they were pretty much the same. So I got rid of the middleman. It's like an atmosphere-sensitive affect-quality churning-out device.
I don't know how my poems work. They do or they don't. That's how it's always been.
Besides, the Tree is supposed to be Blasted. The Blasted Tree is the last poem of a book I haven't finished, because it takes place in Danmark.