Wednesday, May 4, 2011
In his groundbreaking obra Niebla, Miguel de Unamuno gives us that apocalyptic moment when his protagonist Augusto Perez stumbles across his Lord Creator at work at his desk. No pillars of salt, no burning bushes. Just pen and Ink. I never liked the ending, so I changed it. By what right? Unamuno provides the answer himself: it is my prerogative.
Seeing and hearing something happen doesn't guarantee knowing what happened any more than knowing what happened guarantees understanding what happened. Matt Barton's "Mist," for example. The story is not complex. The characters tell you what they want you to know in language that is strict and not at all tricky. No cheap games are played to the wool over your eyes. Oh, there are games played, they're just not cheap. A good thing, because if it were walk-in-the-park simple it would be boring. And this piece of work is anything but boring. In other words, think of Matt Barton's "Mist" as a parable written by Eugene Ionesco, adapted by Gary Shandling, and directed by David Lynch. Enjoy.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Terse imagery, tightly expressed, and tautologically complete. DeGenova weaves his poetic language into poems that are tough. They express what the world needs to hear form the dark shadows and raw alleys of 21st Century America. Haibun. Fresh haibun like the off-tune remark getting swiftly punctuated by the soft, warm open palm slap from a scorned woman. Yes, his haibun and short poems are fresh. Expertly wrought and forged from the authentic iron of experience. Postcards to Jack is wonderful. Kerouac would have been jazzed to read them.