Monday, October 4, 2010

THE BENEFIT OF THE PROFESSION OF POETRY

Here is a short convo I had the other night:

Z: When I grow up I'm going to be a poeter.

L: What's that?

Z: Somebody who writes all the poems.

L: Oh. Why? Why do you want to do that?

Z: Because poeters always have work. They have so much work to do, they are always busy and never out of work.

Lorine Neidecker felt the same way I guess.

Grandfather
advised me:
Learn a trade

I learned
to sit at desk
and condense

No layoffs
from this
condensery

If I could not be a poet, I would be a conceptual artist. I would spend all day making absurd objects that could operate/function usefully if there was a context in the world that allowed them to.

For instance, I might make gloves with a mile of fringe (if Rebecca Horn hadn't already made something like that) with the hope that maybe at some point, there WOULD be a situation that would arise, rendering my object useful, e.g., if one of the miners in Chile was like, "God, you know what would be really great and calming right now? To rub the fringe of some suede gloves between my fingers. Too bad I'm a mile underground."

Conceptual artist is a terribly embarrassing job title though. Rivaled only by Poet. What could I call myself instead?

What would you be if you weren't being whatever it is you are?

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