Quality or Quantity

Hoo boy, it was a hot day today, the air was as still as a lion, stalking.  Even the shadows were in retreat, form the glaring, oppressive heat. There  was no  relief.  So, I didn’t go out much.
I stayed in, smoked a couple  of joints, spent a lot  of  time watching bad TV and browsing facebook, but  I did have one  big accomplishment.  I finished a poem I’ve been  working  on for a while and, while it  might not quite have the dramatic flair I thought  it would, it comes very  close to what I actually  wanted to say, so good enough.  They don’t always  do that.

After I finished, I started going back through the poems I’ve written over the last month  or so, putting together a playlist for next month’s Alchemy reading (Monday, Sept. 5th, Napa Bar in Malastrana, for any Prague residents reading this), and I found three I’ll definitely use, a couple I quite like and will use if there’s  enough time, four or five I want to save and  may put in my next book but not really  top of the line, or maybe would require too much explanation, and about a dozen which, O.K, they may live for  ever on facebook but it’s probably just as well for  the collective reputation of 21st century literature if they are subsumed  in the ocean of data and  never  noticed again.

This is what facebook has done for my writing, or this is what facebook has done to my  writing, and I prefer the article in the first part of this sentence.

Because the best way to write 3 good poems is to write a couple of dozen poems and then choose the best ones.  And, due to facebook, I am writing a lot more poems.  One rhyming tweet a day to promote this blog.  Frequent comments in rhyme, which sometimes are clever, but are almost always ignored, which is O.K., I’m aware of the fact but since it doesn’t cost anything, those rhymes generally come without effort, or deep thought  of any kind, and and it only takes a second to type it in, I just go for it.  Then there’s the Poems About Paintings page, which has slowed down to the point  I almost thought I was done. How many  poems can you write about trees, and flowers, and houses? But, I am not done, a couple popped up recently, and it may  be an infinite source of inspiration after all.

So, I’m writing a lot more poetry, I’m sure lots of other people are writing lots more poetry and, admittedly, they’re not all gems.  Poems are a little bit like UFO sightings. 95% of them are crap but, oh, those others…

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