— ludwig van bertalanffy
— terence mckenna
— john cage
Matthew Sherlings’ book of poems, published by Plain Wrap Press (which is truly one of the best presses around),
This is a book that will make you think of typewriters as much as it will make you think of the internet. You will think about age, and you will think about poems. You will think about the act of writing, probably most of all. These are poems that are largely about poems.
I took a post-symbolist poetry class at UCLA last quarter, and one thing the professors (there were two of them, and I think they were involved with each other, but I was never sure how) insisted was that all writing is, in some way, about writing. And this book proves that, to some extent. Sherling writes about how he writes, why he writes, what writing means.
Two lines I like a lot are:
"I write this while a child gathers a sense of separateness,
while another child draws a universe on the sidewalk.”
Isn’t that great?
Another concept in the book has to do with time, and how that connects to death. Can you both always die and never die? Can a child be smarter than an adult? Where does time go after it’s passed? I wonder this myself sometimes. What happens to the self we were yesterday, and where is the self we’re going to be tomorrow? Maybe someday all of our selves will meet up, and talk, and try to understand each other.
Another thing that Sherling brings up that I think everyone naturally believes isn’t true is the idea that the world goes on without you. When I say “naturally believes,” I don’t mean that we don’t all logically know this; of course we do. But I think most people lack a kind of solid understanding of it. I think we all have a little voice whispering in the back of our heads, “Yes, the world will go on without them, but not without you. Everything depends on you.” I bet this has something to do with the human condition; I have a sneaking suspicion.
Also there’s a poem about a cat in here and cats are my favorite so yeah that’s awesome.
This book is good for a day when you have walked through a forest and find a nice grassy place to sit under a tree and ponder life, and maybe you will even discover gravity. You can buy it here
- “You never need to apologize
for how you chose to survive.”— Clementine von Radics (via journalofanobody)
- : the mythology of invention, or, ranting to a void [complete and finalized]
[this is the perfected version of my lyric-epic]