The Art of Un-Conscious Loving, after an Ad in Yellow Silk
(for EB)
Believe in an art
of un-conscious loving
of a distance so silent and soft
that no thing matters...
an art so conscious of un-loving
that ... (no that can't be)
Believe in a loving
so un-silent that
no soft art matters
Believe in a thing
so loving
in a distance
in a soft silent way
Believe that no one art masters
no one loving matters
that there is a thing
so silent...an art so loving
no one matters
Believe that art no one masters
Ballpark? Ballpark?!! Are you kidding? OUT of it!
Un-conscious loving is certainly IT. Love (!) the twists to conscious un-loving and on to un-silent, and... Ends with this belief = X happens! Art, no one masters.
'of a distance so silent and soft' sings so that I want to repeat it over and over (so I do.) And I love the imprint of yellow silk upon the poem.
Beautiful. Thank you so much for lending it here.
why isn't this poem posted as a regular posting? it's too gorgeous to be hidden in this little corner.
Susan, I try never post unpublished work on the main wall. It's my religion.
Let's call it a slip of the mind, perhaps a collusion of the unlikely. Contrary to the old Freudian saw, the parapraxes here very well may not originate in the unconscious; on the other hand, there's no reason why they can't.
The gist is a turning on an idea or phrase that may or may not embody its untampered-with source. Tampering is, in fact, a swell way to go.
• • •
PARAPRAXIS PLUNGE I (challenge in 600 words or less)
Your character, U, drive(s) (snorkels, hang-glides, eavesdrops, dreams) by a billboard (wiki entry, piece of conversation, song) that goes "abcdefg." But your character/U see(s) (hears, smells) "abQdefg," or "abcdWfg," or even "aVcdeYg" (are you feeling Fellini yet?). For the next day, night, moon, decade – your character Ks and/or Ss and keeps J'ing in all/some of his/her affairs because she/he happened to QWY while unicycling (wheelchairing, walking) by that billboard (pillow, Rorschach, et al). And because of all this: X, U-1, or Q-to-the-nth!
If you need more than 600 words, you're a big boy/girl - take 'em. Power to the people, and you're the one wearing it. (Why 600 words? * Bonus! If you write a jam up story or poem, you might just be able to tweak it to fit when another NPR Three-Minute Fiction challenge rolls along. Don't see why F'nauters shouldn't be sweeping the TMF awards.)
Or whatever you'd like. We admire rule-busters here.
• • •
Mini-challenge: keep a log of your personal parapraxes and post them on the discussion board, at the very least. Surely some of them will transmogrify into poems. Or memoir. Or stories. Etc.
In short: juxtapose the uneasy, the ridiculous, the unthinkable. Slip away, twist some notions, play some games: this is loose.
Get going, the first cut is the sweetest.
This is a public group.
Anyone can see it and join.