There was nothing more devastating than finding out that the poetry project was, essentially, over. My connection with Allen (I can call him Allen now right?) has become deeper, so deep, like the Mariana Trench, I can’t pull myself out. So much, so much admiration, the portrayal of him in various guises (Radcliffe, Franco), they all make me more devoted. This connection was something fabricated by an official project, with a number attached to it, a grade, something quantitative. But know I find the problem of overcoming this vapid need to excel at a school paper, I mean it’s something that I expended many hours developing, but in the end, the paper (and project) didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because whatever happens, this assignment was a starting point. GROUND ZERO, of my own formulation. Of ideas, my philosophy, moral code, just the ability to express all these is my only obstacle now. Indeed, a powerful opponent, self-improvement will either come gradually, or unbelievably fast. Probably the latter, in any case, come it will. To speed it up, I need to divulge my own self—to the world! Just like Ginsberg, I don’t want to be a “grotesque” creature anymore, skulking in the back alleys of my lucid mind. I have to live this lifestyle, my own beliefs-asserted onto reality. The reverberation will be shocking. I can’t find myself now though, without the help of continued reading, researching, studying, exploration. Even this week, the next—a perpetual stream of journeys into the unknown and specious-knowns. GROUND ZERO will always be this project, the things that came with it, all the stuff, will be cataloged. The information; the bios, critiques, love for this poet. The movies. I don’t know if I’ve become anything other than a fanatic, but the labels don’t phase me. Or maybe they do, “don’t hide the madness”. “Howl” is a prophecy, his legacy, YOUR legacy, Allen, has become eternal. Even so long after your death, a year before my conception, you impact the youth today. Me, someone else, the actors of Kill Your Darlings, the actors in Howl, the people associated with these productions. Lovely people, scattered all over the nation, with hidden faces-not hidden. I feel for their blazing hearts, my yearning heart, to relate and make love, to form relations. For in my societal impression, I am lonely. Inward and outward, these things are the same. So I can make myself happy=? But happiness is overrated (Chris Ware) and life is but a passage between those two doors. Eclipsed with a SLAM or gentle -click-….on the linoleum floor, -click-, -clack-, -click-, -clack-, and the ballet slippers slip slop slide down the corridor. Without a sound, no one knows where it goes-to the street, or out of town. I can’t tell, for I don’t know, this special place, I linger towards.
Intelligent and grounded, these two words stuck out of the five used to describe Dan by Dane. And I could see that. They laughed as the halcyon atmosphere took me in. They talked about Keats, Keats and Vonnegut (Dane’s) and I thought of Shelley. Only because of the elegy-read in KYD.
and you just breath, it comes easily
it rhymes, or not
with spaces, so like the pie
cherry i feel disconnected, nowhere to go-
but onward
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