Would That I Might

 As I mentioned before, I started working on what I am thinking of as "conceptual poetry", in the same sense as one would use the term "conceptual art."  It is a very different kind of challenge, I think, but I am finding it very exciting.  There is something to exploring something new, and with actually having to discover what I can achieve within the parameters that I have set myself.  I also feel as if it is work that is kind of daring and challenging to a lot of ideas around poetry, and that is itself a bit exciting.  There is something that I might call dangerous to it, though that might sound silly or overblown.  It feels like a serious artistic risk of a sort that I haven't fond for myself in some time and that is already significant.

Things are slow and I am bored with all the waiting The time goes by without anything passing but the time itself.  That is never true, though, is it?   There are always things that happen, just not  the things I have been waiting for.

I am continuing to work on these new conceptual pieces that I've started producing.  They feel very different in a way that I find exciting, and I am certain part of that is the fact that I think it is work that might challenge a lot of people's thoughts and definitions around poetry.  I could be wrong about that, of course, but I know that some of the stuff I am doing is very much pushing the line intentionally.  I have shown the work to a few people who seemed receptive to it, and who expressed a good deal of enthusiasm, but I know that they are also a select audience.

It seems to be the opposite of what was thought before but it is not, if you consider it, if you understand the real questions being asked, the answers that are being sought. All the contradictions are on the surface, I am certain that is what you will find, not that I have had a chance to delve deeper, it is just  that I can't admit being a hypocrite, so I will find an argument that I can make which resolves the contradiction even if the logic is only sensible inside my own mind.

I am feeling quite productive lately, but the focus has shifted a bit more towards my poetry.  I am still writing fiction, but I can feel that there is a change, that my attention is different.  This is the nature of intuition, I suppose, though I am glad to find that it's fickleness is in terms of what I am writing and not whether. 

No one is saying anything or helping at all with the things that need to be helped, that need  more of it done and known and held together. I am doing and that is  what I can say and what I have said and it is true and has been, but it is not enough. It is all there is and it is nothing, or feels like nothing. Things can't be this empty without  that meaning something, without it becoming  a judgement.

I am feeling quite tired tonight, thought it is still relatively early for me to be finishing up my work.  As such, I am just going to keep this short and try to get myself ready for bed sooner than later.  I hope that it doesn't just wind up meaning that I wake up extra early, though I am afraid that is precisely what is most likely to happen.