melancholy

An inhibited sadness extending like frost. Too many blocky paragraphs, small type. They seem impenetrable, igloos stuffed with cotton, no way to get a worm into the ear.

I read the essay on Jacob, Ponge, and Follain in Sentence. I liked how it delineated the differences between the poets’ styles. I own a couple volumes of Ponge, including “Soap.” I went crazy when I first read it, it’s just SO obsessive. I wouldn’t mind picking up some Jacob. Follain didn’t grab me, too much this and that and everything else there.

Meanwhile, still editing…. I’m reading this manuscript over and over and over. Tweaking something every time. Sometimes taking out a period, sometimes putting in a comma. I made one rearrangment in sequence today, but in general, I think the sequencing is pretty good.

My temptation in changing words is to get too “literary.” The kiss of death. In general, the work is made of plain words, some arranged unexpectedly. I resorted to one quite blatant cliché in the most sexual part of the poem. I couldn’t help it. Any other simile would have evoked an “eeeuw” reaction. Maybe I’ll come up with a better word tomorrow.

This work is not really like anything in the volumes I’ve been reading. I’m jittery about that. I’m trying to retain a very pure judgment about it. I mean, do I like it or not????