before + after Osho, on happiness – sadness = equanimity
pulled by the scruff of the crown chakra,
a grip like weaving, insideoutside my skull,
brown and flecked and strong as fuck —
reefing against my will,
to sleep …
released by the gruff hand of god into Osho,
burbling through bed like a brook through weaving,
brusque and clipped and long as fuck —
intuition against my will,
waking sleep …
I need your help considering what to do about this twit-poet i’m working with.
Because I love poetry, I really do. But sometimes working with poets really toots my whistle. Here is how I want to respond to one especially indignant author I’m working with (i’m in bold):
p156 again epigraph looks crappy plus we should put the bit I brackets not all in italics. Also, in this poem ‘A physiological law’ – all the formatting is awry – just see original) too many too enumerate here – it’s all indenting Way to get a typesetter offside, poet.You sound like a self-important twit.If you had wanted perfect formatting reflected back to you in the proofs, you might have considered the way you set up your Word file, which made setting this book unnecessarily laborious for me. I would normally keep that to myself, but calling the epigraphs ‘crappy’ is just a cheap shot. Express your aesthetic opinion and leave it at that, okay. Mind your language or I’ll withhold the notes about all the errors I’ve found.
Too right it’s all bloody indenting! Content-free indenting, as far as i can discern.
Here is how I should respond – because it’s not worth picking battles with twats:
p156 again epigraph looks crappy plus we should put the bit I brackets not all in italics. Also, in this poem ‘A physiological law’ – all the formatting is awry – just see original) too many too enumerate here – it’s all indenting Please be more considerate when giving instructions. Not all of these errors I’m fixing are mine.
But even as i wrote and emphasised the word ‘should’ i thought, What a sellout! The respectable thing to do would be to not retaliate – but i don’t even value respectability, as i expressed in this post about shitting in someone’s garden. But why should i let this jerk push me around. Well, i guess, to feel pushed around i would have to be exerting force in the opposite direction. I could choose to not care. Would it be equally self-important to give any more energy to this – to make any further efforts toward demonstrating that he is wrong in talking to me this way. I think so, yes. The right course of action is to choose not to care. It’s only because i’m sleep-deprived that i would care anyway.
Redemption and the Hope for Understanding through Liberation from Separation
As part of my haphazard research into the divergence of East and Western cultures, I picked up a copy of Moris Farhi’s first book of poems, Songs from Two Continents on my tour of Turkey with Mum and Rashid.
This is the first poetry i have read from a Turkish poet, and the second book of any kind by an author from Turkey—the other being The Flea Palace by Elif Şhafak, a Márquezian novel i am picking my way through slowly, the second book i have attempted to read in its entirety on an eReader, the first being, foolishly, Plato’s Republic.
Between Socratic dialogue and the pithy poems of Moris Farhi, there couldn’t be a much greater divide. The first poem is quote worthy not only for its sheer brevity, and is just a taste of the redemption-through-passion theme pursued in the collection: