Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Ironically Craving

craving: an intense, urgent, or abnormal desire or longing

What I crave and what I do are not presently joined. I crave a long sleep on the warm grass but I sit at a desk and read articles about craving. I craft a grant about craving scales as they relate to addiction while I crave sunshine and birdsong and leisure but my arms are strapped with plastic tubes to the keyboard and so I crave as I create an explanation of craving.

I have officially drowned myself in the existentialist sewer.

11 comments:

Zoro said...

I query the pure fear preventing pure flight. I didn't used to picture a destination and then worry days or weeks ahead if I could manage there. I have dependents now whom I love, they are not at fault - ca m'est egal - that specific love is no shame, they are worth a thousand adventures. I hear the authenticity in your voice Jen, I can barely put up with one more year, I go through the mill all the time. I think about the winter and when I am going to die.

Zoro said...

Don't allow me to ruin a perfectly good posting with such a strong dose of negativity. I think your writing is spot-on right now, Jen.

Z.

ed said...

love the construction here. was it organic or did you have a little outline in ur head? i'm guessign organic. first sentence, one crave. second, two. third, five. fourth, none. fab flow.

Zoro said...

Ed - you are a true gentleman. Your appreciation is very encouraging. I virtually always begin with some cerebral sculpture arising from the interplay of recent hobby-horses of mine and current affairs.

Topographically, everything is a 'box' consisting of organic evocations using words and phrases, quirky alignments of words, archaic stuff at times, sometimes formal, sometimes vernacular.

I make English work for its place in the box, often strangling and challenging her to make me fall off beat. The more manipulated, the sweeter the mix. These boxes represent tricks that I do, that do no harm, that may mean something, but may mean nothing.

Z.

La Sirena said...

just sick right now
thanks for the comments, guys

Zoro said...

Is it anything to go public, Jen? I like the way you can hold your head so high. Take courage irrepressable siren!

Z.

Zoro said...

OOOPS.

Anonymous said...

You are a powerful writer with very powerful ideas. This poetry is introspection at its most poignant place. This is the dark place that we hide the psyche when the world closes in. I think that this poem is the proving ground for our fragile sanity. In truth, we want to run in the sunshine and feel like carefree children. The child in us romped and played in the arms of golden sunlight and grassy meadows, looking like a perfect Andrew Wyeth . Admittedly, we are tied and bound to the commitments of this life, and all the pain of death and suffering. These emotions rip the child right out of our hearts and minds. I have had days like yours, days when I felt that my craving for life was so diluted I merged into the background. Yet like you, I craved something strongly and intangible. I love the last line just because it contains so much power and venom. “I have officially drowned myself in the existentialist sewer.” Wow! that’s a powerful comment from the artistic mind.

Zoro said...

Sometimes the utter thrall of the planet embraces me to reside within a grassy bank or gesture of a group of trees. I long to lose consciousness as such belonging to Earth incorporates my fragrant muse. Pretty well sorted, both the beauty of living things from the in- to the for-itself and the compost heap of my recyclability.

Death? Anytime, any place, any where. Can't fault that tidy dealer in one-hit wonders and B-movie assisted-death realty TV.
Cue for the next decade of sincere portrayals of the passings of a, b, or, c.

Z.

La Sirena said...

Not dead but pretty messed up. Just spent several days in the hospital. Can't remember a couple of them. Trying to get better.

Zoro said...

Lots of love to you, Jen. Time to get ure witchiness inside you. I really wish you well.

Z.