Saturday, May 17, 2014

explication-de-loopy-enterprise - re: out of the glandular darkness

[dupe of facebook post]

of interest, surely, only to me,
but owing to my proclivity
for full disclosure policy
comes now a bit of info re:

the loopy Enterprise (drawing & poem) I do every day.

Okay, so, I draw what some of you have identified as an aging E.T. & his insurance agent (good one, Mr. Blumenthal), and whilst drawing them, or more particularly, flooding in their dark violet & ruby background, I am besieged by (& silently chant to myself) the lilt & meter of what I sigh to realize must appear as the first two lines of the accompanying poem to come:

"Out of the glandular darkness
and into the mandibles of the rectangular night..."

What the hell does that mean, you might forgivably ask. I dunno. I just like the sound.

The drawing gets finished, the two lines affixed to a page, and -- what do I do now??. Defeated by any hope of making conscious sense, I decide to write anything that has meter & rhyme. Which I do.

What I confess loving about this, is that whatever 'sense' this jabberwocky may eventually make, it seems to make entirely through its own devices. What I confess to loving about that, is that there IS some sense going on somehow and I know that because the poem makes me laugh. Which leads to another confession, if I don't laugh during and after writing a poem or drawing a drawing, I know I'm not doing my job. Even when the final felt effect, going down a few dimensional levels, is putatively 'sad.' Even then, if there isn't a large wink of cosmic guffaw somewhere in it, then I know I just haven't paid attention. (I feel this about everything, not just "art." Which assertion, to anyone knows me, should elicit a "duh.")

Of course when I post such stuff on my cherished poetry website (which I do daily) I have often to look the other way when people start plumbing it for, ahem, Poetic Seriousness. To me, life or art or pretty much anything I can think of isn't really seen until it registers (on some however perhaps sometimes secret level) as deeply & strangely hilarious.

So, glandularly dark, I remain
in the mandibles of the rectangular night.

(here it is again.)

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