UPDATE: MOON SLEEP 40 & Moon Fact no.40
Fezes on the moon. Smart phones and twirly mustaches on the moon.
Melanie Boeckmann reviewed The Inevitable June.
she gave it an A!
i’m feeling pretty great about this.
i wrote a thing where i responded to some of her questions. you can read it below.
Melanie wrote a wonderful review of my ebook The Inevitable June, in which she expressed a desire to better understand the meaning behind some of the poems. i figured since she took the time to write that review, the least i could do is give her some sort of response.
i wish i could adequately answer melanie’s question about what some of these poems mean, but i don’t really know myself. i know that’s a terrible, eye-roll inducing nonanswer. i’m so sorry! but i think she has me nailed from the first sentence, that i just love to play with the words. that’s all i’m ever really doing. i never start with an emotion in mind or anything overt that i have to say. i just sort of free write until something catches my eye, then i focus on that line or set of lines or image, concentrating on how it makes me feel. then i add more and more lines to it, always with one eye pointed inwards on how the new lines are affecting me on some sort of deeper, emotional level. there is a lot of twisting and turning. a lot of false starts and dead ends. eventually a “tone” or “overarching emotional state” comes into view. that becomes the finish line. from there, any subsequent writing/editing is in service of making the poem “click” and efficiently arrive at that emotional state, sticking the landing. i try not to dwell on it too much because then i’ll overthink it. i recently read this thing uut posted a while back. i feel like it sums up my own approach to writing, except i think i put a little more emphasis on revising than he does.
imagine yourself fishing and you catch one of those small irridescent tropical fish, and you think to yourself, “wow that’s beautiful. but i sure wish it was bigger.” and so then you just start stabbing it with other glowing fish parts until you’ve made your tiny fish into a frankenstein of a great white shark. it’s like that, but you’re sitting alone the whole time and stay reasonably dry.
so when i say i don’t know what the poems mean, i’m not trying to say i’m some magical visionary that just like “recieves” these things from god’s golden ham radio in the sky or something. i feel like i’ve seen a lot of older poets strike that pose and it’s always made me want to call bullshit.
no, for me it’s more like i’m just a stupid man-baby slamming blocks together until the mess i make starts to look worthwhile.
and the mess usually ends up in some way “acting out” my obsessions and predispositions. my pessimism. my anger. my sadness. my fear.
hence falling airplanes made of glass.
hence a hungry black octopus in the sky.
with the inevitable june i started with that drawing on the cover. i really liked it, and i couldn’t help imagining a world in which it was a reality, where there really were black octopi snatching airplanes out of the sky. and i imagined what it would be like to live in that world, and how terrible it would be. i set it in ‘june’ because it seems like the most useless month. there are no holidays. it’s kind of sort of summer. i wanted to take this month no one was using and make it a home for my nightmares. also when i started june was several months away and i figured i could finish and release it by then.
and as i wrote the poems and drew the pictures i tried to arrange them to enact some sort of vague “birth/death” cycle. a lot of them are ‘filler,’ intended to just push you towards the next milestone, but some of that filler ended up being the best stuff in my opinion.
i think that’s all i really have to say about it. i’m sorry for going on like this. i hope someone somewhere found this interesting.
improvised earlier today with a sharpie
creepy magician guy returns.
also i made this comic for the newer york:
Things are different now. Explore.