So, after reading Roberson's City Eclogue I can't say that I am driven to love poetry.  But, with that being said, there is one line in his poems that stood out to me.   I just like the sound of it.  It goes something like this:

"The flash of polish not substance       brass not gold."

I can't tell you what it is that he is talking about, but this line strikes me.  Brass, when polished, is bright yellow. But even the dullest gold still shines with a better luster than the most polished brass.  Gold is quality, it doesn't need to be polished.  When it is, even polished brass doesn't stand a chance.

It is the lines that follow that give this line some context, still not sure what the fuck it all means.  In the very least it sounds really cool.

"The gold    on paper moving in the dark         Ink   the local brand of night and day        chauffeurs  its wealth from sight to hidden site"

I feel like the author is almost bragging about his shit here.   He's not writing in brass.  He's writing gold.  It's kinda arrogant, but I can dig that.   I've written some stuff that I read back later and am like "Damn, that's sweet."   That's just a thought though, I can't really tell what the fuck it's all about.  I will admit that I think it sounds pretty cool.

Side note, here.  In completing my first portfolio, I found that exercise that we did last week to be super duper helpful.  Pick out some random words and let a poem unfold from there.  I don't have much practice in poetry (nor interest, for that matter), but this exercise really helped me.  I don't know if I got lucky when randomly selecting words, but...some of these poems I wrote aren't half bad.

And so it begins...

The idea of starting a blog has always clanged around in this tin can I have for a head.  Now, I am doing it.   Granted, the terms of this blog's origin are highly influenced by my desire to pass this creative writing course but that point is probably moot.  Those who know me know I have a lot to say about a lot of things, I guess I have an outlet for those thoughts now. I'm looking over the syllabus and preparing myself for this class and one thing strikes me immediately.  Poetry.  Well, fuck me sideways...

I am not a poetic person.  I do not understand poetry.  I do not like poetry.  Part of me knew that poetry was going be a substantial part of this course and I took it anyway.   I'm all for metaphor and the like...but I feel that poets take it too far.  Comparing this too that, life to death, top to bottom, and somewhere I get lost in the fray.   I'm not sure if it is that I don't understand what a poet means, or if I believe that a poem has meaning only to the asshole who wrote it, or even if it is just fucking nonsense.  Maybe I am just apathetic to the practice of poetry and that is why I find it difficult.  I'll spare any philosophical analysis of it for the moment, that will probably come up again later in the course and you can hear it then.

I can deal with fiction.  I like fiction.  I write fiction for fun sometimes.  Fiction is o.k.   But, after 20 minutes of reading what Shakespeare wrote and not understanding a fucking lick of it...Poetry...It's not my thing.   Unless you count Dr. Seuss...I fucking love that guy.

In case you haven't picked up on it.   My language will be crass.   My thoughts will be disorganized.   I might offend you.   I will not sugarcoat things. Deal with it.  I will continue to say what I want...well, until SOPA and PIPA shut me down.