I'm on a euphoric high. Chance and rest had me pull my poetry from several volumes of binders, then consolidate and organize. With filing lingering, I conquered a different front by spending the last two hours editing recent works. I am on a euphoric high. Suddenly while typing, I became desperate for underground poetry. Why? I realized that a large portion of my works may not be publishable because of content. Still, I'll take a chance and push the queries. Still, for the sake I was told one of my best edits may not get picked up by popular venues, I am willing to bring the work into contemporary spaeke by precision of word choice . It is all a confusion of not being afraid to call a spade a spade and learning to write outside of a fascination of the lyrical and romantic. I want to stop couching terms. Still for the sake of finding a deeper voice to spaeke healing I want this. I want this bad. Writing in vein and taking over the closet with the computer is not where I want to be. I'm starting to get visions of hawking my trade on the corner like all those I criticized years ago. I bought his tome of literature though. He needed the money more than I did. Dear street, this is a kindness returned. Fire in the belly. Today I am willing to get burned.
As ever, stay hungry and curious,
N.A. Jones
Artist, Writer