Friday, January 14, 2005

I want to be a great poet! I want to storm the temples of Hafiz, Whitman, Sappho, and Hughes. Make me a badlands mystic, a prairie Shakespeare--better yet an iconoclast bard for now/today. Does wanting cheapen being? I'm afraid I don't know enough words... What does "locus of control" mean? "Disclosure reciprocity?" "Self-efficacy?" Poets must know these common phrases!

But since I can't be intellectual, I'd like to write some love songs. My old songs are jaded. I know I can do better. Did I tell you that I actually saw my Soul nine days ago in a deep cave in the central Washington Cascades? My actual Soul! It filled my rib cage with cosmo-electric libidinal orgone energy. To glimpse my Life Force was a great, precious moment. I can't be satisfied to ever write "Please, Louise" again (yet I do!). e.e. cummings might settle for "lower case blues," but has he seen his SOUL? Well, probably.

I'll sleep on it.


Anonymous said...

callipygian... use that in your love song.

Anonymous said...

Are you and Camo going to reunite the dream team?
Kentucky Kid

Chris Sand said...

Camo runs a massage clinic in Nashville now--I only wish I could get him back on Sandwagon.