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Artifacts & History
CONSTRUCTED ARTIFACTS AND FRAGILE THINGS
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<blockquote data-quote="RonPrice" data-source="post: 97608" data-attributes="member: 1328"><p>For most poets writing is an exhausting, intermittent process. Long silences are an essential stage in their creative growth. Suicide, alcoholism, poverty are all too often fellow travellers of poets. Some poets waste too much of their time in conversation. Some find a career an advantage; some find the company of other writers helps the process. Some mature on the <em>outside</em> of the profession of writers at their own pace in the essentially private world of writing. The poet who writes for himself or herself is not tied to any form, even autobiography. Such poets develop their own conspicuously personal and private languages, as if they are talking to themselves. -Ron Price with thanks to <strong>Poetry After Modernism</strong>, editor, Robert McDowell, Story Line Press, Brownsville, 1991.</p><p></p><p>I set out here to talk about the world,</p><p>the self: universal, holistic, expansive,</p><p>liberal democracy and communist</p><p>totalitarianism, religious fanaticism,</p><p>words that both retreat from and</p><p>incorporate the world, sex too,</p><p>a large kind of poetry stressing meaning:</p><p>political, social, scientific, philosophical.</p><p></p><p>I’ve got a great deal to say</p><p>in these constructed artifacts of words.</p><p>There is sufficient meaning here-just for me-</p><p>for there is glory here, creative thought,</p><p>spiritual result, a chord of creation, a fullness</p><p>for my soul. I deal here with fragile things,</p><p>a subjectivity that can empty my world</p><p>in a phrase or fill it up in a line;</p><p>it is so easy to miss the plot,</p><p>to get nowhere near the truth,</p><p>in the familiar realm of fate,</p><p>chaos and endless trivia.</p><p></p><p>Ron Price</p><p>8/1/'98 to 1/2/'15.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="RonPrice, post: 97608, member: 1328"] For most poets writing is an exhausting, intermittent process. Long silences are an essential stage in their creative growth. Suicide, alcoholism, poverty are all too often fellow travellers of poets. Some poets waste too much of their time in conversation. Some find a career an advantage; some find the company of other writers helps the process. Some mature on the [I]outside[/I] of the profession of writers at their own pace in the essentially private world of writing. The poet who writes for himself or herself is not tied to any form, even autobiography. Such poets develop their own conspicuously personal and private languages, as if they are talking to themselves. -Ron Price with thanks to [B]Poetry After Modernism[/B], editor, Robert McDowell, Story Line Press, Brownsville, 1991. I set out here to talk about the world, the self: universal, holistic, expansive, liberal democracy and communist totalitarianism, religious fanaticism, words that both retreat from and incorporate the world, sex too, a large kind of poetry stressing meaning: political, social, scientific, philosophical. I’ve got a great deal to say in these constructed artifacts of words. There is sufficient meaning here-just for me- for there is glory here, creative thought, spiritual result, a chord of creation, a fullness for my soul. I deal here with fragile things, a subjectivity that can empty my world in a phrase or fill it up in a line; it is so easy to miss the plot, to get nowhere near the truth, in the familiar realm of fate, chaos and endless trivia. Ron Price 8/1/'98 to 1/2/'15. [/QUOTE]
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