“Most writing implies a distant, possible, even probable audience of a few or of many. Leaves of Grass assumes and intimate audience of one – one who listens to a solitary speaker. That is, to each reader the poem reaches out personally.”
“Can you show us what you’re seeing?” he asks. “Can you add more words to help us understand?”
And you lied to me so much,
about the world, about myself,
that you ended up by imposing on me
an image of myself:
underdeveloped, in your words, undercompetent
that’s how you made me see myself!
And I hate that image … and it’s false!
But now I know you, you old cancer,
And I also know myself!
And I know that one day
my bare fist, just that,
will be enough to crush your world!
The old world is crumbling down!
Hope you are creating! Doing this! Making stuff! Doing stillness, making silence. Wonder to be found in it all.
Paying attention to friendships, deep ties, group cohesion, and health, and the possibilities they represent is the future of artistic practice for us and a way out of the dead history of isolated artists making aesthetic things for our entertainment.