K Silem Mohammad:
my utopia is one in which there must intrude a little conscious insensitivity to (organic) language: some "pleasures" must be acknowledged as painful once they can begin to be used to inhibit the exercise of the uncorroded imaginative faculties. And maybe not EVERYONE can participate in this angry utopia; maybe in order for the commonwealth to function at all the organicists will need to be marked as non-poets.
I like the way this works.
Tho I wd write:
some pains must be acknowledged as pleasures.
That sore and loose tooth the kid won't leave alone,
You know, the grabbing at it,
pushing it into the gums; tasting
basic blood, moving
it with the tongue
lolling out back a slow green yard.
Us sitting there, talking about who is and isn't
Pains are pleasing occurences that inhibit the blah blah blah.
In the Blue and Brown books,
Mr Nobody is in the room
and not asked for
but hanging out with the smokers
and talking indie music.
The sore tooth again.
Writers are pained to find each other, pleased to find themselves--
You in this case means me.
we said in prose here try this stupid.