CLOUD ©Joy Kreves, sumi ink on porcelain
A full storm of creativity is rumbling around the corner. I can feel its gathering energy, its electric, growing thunder; it's a kettle headed towards the rolling boil. It will be an immersion in the loud-ish bath of a sparkling, bubbling spring beneath a steady rain. It will be these things for me.
TWO CLOUDS ©Joy Kreves, sumi ink on porcelain
Meanwhile, I am holdng something in mind, something I first found in a little paperback, SELECTED POEMS, chosen at whim from the bookstore years ago. One poem by Mark Strand remains my all time favorite:
When I am under the spell of this poem I believe that a person can truly exist on the creative realm alone, no further nourishment needed; a person really does not need to keep a stocked refrigerator, laundered clothing or a tidy house. These tasks are just annoying, buzzing flies - distractions from reveling in one's essential being. I do believe I smell ink now...
EATING POETRY
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.
I am a new man,
I snarl at her and bark,
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
-Mark StrandI am a new man,
I snarl at her and bark,
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
When I am under the spell of this poem I believe that a person can truly exist on the creative realm alone, no further nourishment needed; a person really does not need to keep a stocked refrigerator, laundered clothing or a tidy house. These tasks are just annoying, buzzing flies - distractions from reveling in one's essential being. I do believe I smell ink now...
