Sunday Essay: On Publishing (and poetry)

This is shameless plug for buying my book of poetry disguised not so well in an essay. Hot tip for Wordle players -for your first word- use "fluff". Any word with an "f" in it is toast.

                                       Sunday Essay:  On Publishing (and poetry)

        When I published this book of poems, I was doing a particular thing.  This is something that any creative person does and it is, by its very nature, an extremely vain, ego driven thing to do.  When my Mom exhibited her art, she must have felt the exact same thing and probably asked herself the same question I did which is “Why do I think anyone would want this as part of their already crowded life?”  Does my art take up valuable space in their life or does it give them more room?   Does it give enough to warrant the space it takes?  Over time, does its beauty increase or fade?  In our home our walls are filled with art.  We have more art than we have wall space.  Our next house will be bigger, that’s my hope, or at least big enough for all the art.
	I felt a compulsion building within me over the past two to three years as I took my leave of carpentry and took up another tool, the handy, dandy pen (made by Parker, by the way).  

Notice pen in focus, tools not in focus. That is a quality metaphor.

         With it I have been building a different world but similar in some ways.  I always begin with a solid foundation, a premise that I want to work with.  I stick to the rules of grammar just like I stuck to the rules of constructing a house.  You can deviate, but not much and if you do, it will fall down from its own crazy, willfully ignoring too many rules from an ego that says, “People are gonna love this.”
        Create an extremely solid base and from there you can go a little crazy.  It’s a lot like jazz music that way, the more solid the foundation like a well known loved melody and super rhythm, the more you can venture off into wacko land.  But just being wacky-crazy for entertainment or shock value is not something of lasting virtue, or certainly not for longer than a generation.  After that you are a footnote and everything you did needs explaining.  
        It is the point of view that is valuable.  What is being seen from over there that is worth talking about in such bizarre terms?  Can I bring it back to my world and when I do, how well does it translate here, in my existence?
	Almost every poem I have written has taken me from a starting place of some confusion/question to an end point where I understand things a little better.  That is all I know for certain about these poems.  After a year and a half of reading responses from others, I’ve come to understand that others feel this way as well.  And that is why I decided to publish, to put them on paper between two hardcovers and turn these half crazed children loose onto the world.  Yeats only needed 200 copies of his poems but I may need a lot more.

         From the massive wealth generated from both paid subscriptions and book sales all of my dreams of obscene wealth are being realized.  I can now cover;

1.   All of my cardamom needs for the year.
2.  A tailor on retainer to raise/lower my hemlines according to economic outlook.
2a. Lifetime manicures and pedicures.
2b. Ditto- hair conditioner, scalp cleanser, follicle enhancer and that shampoo that
       creates a full and gorgeous flowing mass of shiny hair.
3.   My illicit alligator parking which has racked up some serious fines.
4.   A year’s heroin supply.
5.   All haircuts (to look damn good). ps- I cut my own hair.
6.   Plastic surgery AND Botox!!! (see #5).
7.   All gasoline consumption for the Rolls and private jet.
8.   Any and all sherpa expenses incurred.
9.   All the okra I could possibly want.
9a. Ditto for sushi.
10.  The entire ad budget for my new dog translation app. We really need to get the
       word out on this one.  In development we found out that we need more words
       for food, hungry, petting and naps.
11.  I can now get that insect repellent idea fully funded, the one where we find out
      what kind of music they hate. 
12. Get that hat prototype made where a lot of attractive plastic dragonflies are
      attached to boingy springs and they flap every time you move your head.  Should
      be a big seller for first dates.

	In summation, good poetry must be worth the walk.  But even some walks, while decent exercise, are in ugly neighborhoods with unpleasant companions who have little to say other than they have a compulsion to talk, and that is not enough. There are not many readers of poetry but we all have something in common.  As we approach a poem we say, “For God’s sake, give me SOMETHING, give me an image I won’t forget, make me laugh, make me smile, make me shake my head in wonder at this phrase, make me cry.   Please move me!”  That is what we want. 
        To that end, order your copy today.  I really should have been an advertising guy, shaming, guilting people into buying the latest doodad.  Heads up, my next poetry book will be called, “The Latest Doodad” with an infomercial that will break hearts.