I am not concerned that it’s four thirty and I’ve written nothing here yet, and I am unconcerned that I don’t really have any ideas of what to write here. Trimming my unconcerned fingernails, thinking my unconcerned thoughts and contemplating one particular medication I’m on.
This is the thing about all creative people we will have intense periods of creativity, steady periods of creativity and then nothing. There are days, weeks and sometimes months where we are simply useless. Depression usually kicks in if it hasn’t been what you’ve been feeding off of, personally I hate to write when I am too depressed as everything comes out of self pity then, like writing when you’re drunk too often. My preference is to have the ideas arrive at great pace where I don’t have time to consider if I am depressed or happy, a mess or about to get laid.
Now (when I am mired in creationless oceans) is when I like to study other poets or read things that are not in my normal line. Right now I am studying the life of Georg Trakl, the short life fraught with madness, drug abuse and incest (unproven but think along the lines of the Royal Tennanbaums without the adoption). I find a lot of his translations lacking a poetic quality that is present in the German version and am happy to report that a new translation of his complete body of work is being worked on but in the meantime I may find myself reworking some translations to reflect his poetic style. I don’t speak German well but I do write poetry so I have an up there. I did a similar thing with Lorca’s poetry years ago and never really did anything with it as I will probably not do anything with Trakl if I do re-translate. Translating syntax in the poetic method is difficult no matter who you are and you are almost writing an entirely new work when you do it, but one you cannot rightfully take credit for, just the translating part.
This has been a ramble brought to you by the poet Jhon Baker.
three poems fitting harmoniously together
third rate diner
writing poems on
paper napkins;
inadvertently blowing my nose into
the most recent.
modern medicine
modern medicine is always a marvel
no matter the year
until we need for the end
then it’s simply horrible.
loving
such good loving
such good nurturing,
such good loving,
such good fucking.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 