Cacophony of Silence
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My poems sharpen my sight, so that I see better what is there to be seen. I will find some situation or image or nuance that catches my eye, intrigues me. Sometimes, that seeing lends itself an image for me, and then a line, just one at first that, when written down, enters into a cadence, a rhythm, a sense of sound and echo that emerges into a sequence of lines that flow, usually quickly. And then, the lines stop. the images seem complete, and then they announce to me that the poem is complete. That is true whether the image is a raindrop, a face, a pose, a tree, a flower, a bird, a shadow, o...
My poems sharpen my sight, so that I see better what is there to be seen. I will find some situation or image or nuance that catches my eye, intrigues me. Sometimes, that seeing lends itself an image for me, and then a line, just one at first that, when written down, enters into a cadence, a rhythm, a sense of sound and echo that emerges into a sequence of lines that flow, usually quickly. And then, the lines stop. the images seem complete, and then they announce to me that the poem is complete. That is true whether the image is a raindrop, a face, a pose, a tree, a flower, a bird, a shadow, or the innuendo of faith or country - whatever. This book draws upon poems written some years ago, mostly in the years 2009 and 2015. There are also a few current poems that insist themselves into the collection as they are accumulated in the current year's file. As I revisit poems of years ago, quite often the occasion presents itself to memory - but not always so. Sometimes, that occasion is as if unnecessary and, indeed, almost in the way of the poem as it has come to be. Revisiting is always a pleasure; it becomes one of the spurs toward forming the collection itself. Indeed, it is the pleasure and the satisfaction in the book that brings it about. Satisfaction is such a boon to life.
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