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Clayton A.
Couch
Notes
on "Instant Parable"
What
am I doing here?
American
culture, if we are to believe the press releases, values
the instantaneous, absolutely-present event over everything
else. If Americans cannot actually create the instant, they
will do their damndest to represent it in any and every
format imaginable. Historical and spiritual echoes, such
as they are, disappear. The flickering images and virtual
obsessions of this poem are not whole representations of
the instant; rather, they are the detrital remains left
over from the consumption of whole representations
of the instant. Each fragment radiates phantasmal undertones
created during the moment of its parent's dissolution, and
these undertones, these radiations, are circulated within
the structural context of "instant parable" to
the point where an alternate -- however slightly alternate
-- history can arise out of nothing.
My recent
writings tend to play around with the rhythms that can be
created by weaving non-linear thoughts, sounds, and images
into the linearities of written text, and while I do have
a concern for sense and meaning, I tend to view these elements
as being awash in something similar -- its virtual counterpart?
-- to Max Planck's conception of quantum foam. In other
words, I feel that there is a level of graininess -- a level
of molten fuzziness -- undergirding even the building materials
of poetic form, and I pay very close attention to the unintentional
upheavals that assert themselves during the compositional
process. I seek to charge a poem's words with found energies,
and failing that, I actively allow such energies to tear
at, crack, or batter my texts. The display of damage then
becomes its own poem.
Being
a pantheist at heart, I also see poems as word-organisms.
"instant parable" is a probably a predator of some sort,
although I'm sure it's quite harmless to most readers.
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instant
parable
no crazy in
silence more to word
walled off for good i saw an accident
at corner of rosewood and assembly
accidentally
creating a crisp vision
in my head of gods running sidewise
up a glass skyscraper fan it backwards
in this asylum
territory we work against
time holding out a confederacy in the hope
that something in zany truths can save
us from sacrificial
nigerian scam letters
across the tempest ocean call a dollar
or more mutations into millions i love you
if you exist
or can will you into eXistenZ
some hokey video game meditation on unreality
irreal of circle stances reading in a vacuum
forgotten how
to read out loud choke
chromatic out of clean there's always a memory
but it's only not there and blank verse can't save
no one from
flittering away out in a sedate
backyard grilling on fire over leaves autumnal
with age full throttle more packaging please
Clayton
A. Couch lives in Columbia, SC with his wife, Lauren, and
his feline familiar, Gretchen. Employed as a Library Specialist
for Midlands Technical College, he is currently working
towards an MLIS (Library Science) degree at the University
of South Carolina. He has published poems in such places
as Aught, Big Bridge, can
we have our ball back?, Dark Moon Rising, Dark Planet,
Dreams and Nightmares, EOTU, Get Underground, moria,
muse apprentice
guild, Once Upon A World, The Pedestal, Pierian
Springs, Poethia,
Shampoo, Say...,
Speculon, Star*Line, Tin
Lustre Mobile, VeRT, xStream,
and Ygdrasil. He was recently interviewed at Tin
Lustre Mobile, and upcoming work will appear in
SpaceBreather, Unpleasant Event Schedule, VeRT, and Znine.
Like every other poet on the internet, he maintains a weblog
(http://home.earthlink.net/~cacpublicjournal/).
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