This post is a little thank you to all the poets among us here in this little corner of the blogosphere (happily there are many of you). I so appreciate the silken words you offer up ... thoughts that soothe, nudge, provoke, confound, trouble, inspire ... and above all, make me rejoice.
Poetry was all written before time was,
and whenever we are so finely organized
that we can penetrate into that region
where the air is music,
we hear those primal warblings,
and write them down.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
The need of the times works inside the artist
without his wanting it, seeing it or understanding its true significance.
In this sense he is close to the seer, the prophet, and the mystic.
It is precisely when he does not represent the existing canon
but transforms it
that his function rises to the level of the sacral,
for he then gives utterance to the authentic and direct revelation of the numinous.
A book (a poem?) must be an axe for the frozen sea inside us.
I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself and knows itself divine.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley
The function of the imagination is not to make strange things settled
but to make settled things strange.
A poet needs to keep his wilderness alive inside him.
In the mouth of the dragon there are many jewels.
Let us risk the wildest places
Lest we go down in comfort, and despair.