In October of 2004, I first started putting into words a story I had conceived a few years earlier. I've had several false starts over the years. I tried telling the story from the third person omniscient, discarded that, tried again from one particular character's pov, discarded that ... nothing seemed to work.
Finally, after all these years, the story is practically writing itself. Even when every day life's annoyances get in the way (get car fixed, go to day job, deal with this, deal with that) the story seems to find a way to get itself into words. I feel like I'm along for the ride on this one.
I'm up to 34,127 words and I have a feeling I'm about three fourths of the way to the end. The strange thing is, I don't feel in a rush to get to the end. I don't feel like it's a challenge I have to complete, or a deadline I have to meet. The way the story is unfolding, I know the end will come soon enough -- and I have a vague idea of what that ending will be -- but I'm not 'dying to get there' as so many people who write novels seem to be.
Nabokov once wrote that he just wants to get this one done and move on to the next one. Asimov said he worked in parallel so that if he didn't have anything for one story his day wouldn't be wasted with 'writer's block'. Instead, he just worked on something else. Henry Miller described something like a combination of those two. Every writer has his or her way of looking at it but I think Bruce Lee wrote something once that would fit well in describing the way this work is coming together.
I think it was in The Tao of Jeet Kun Do (and I'm going from memory here, so please forgive me Bruce Lee fans). He wrote, basically, that when he first started studying martial arts, a kick was just a kick, a punch was just a punch. Then, the more he studied the more he realized that a kick was so much more than just a kick, a punch so much more than just a punch! Finally, though, after mastering all he could, he realized -- a kick is just a kick, a punch is just a punch.
That's exactly how I feel. I know most of the tricks and dangers of writing fiction. I know to avoid the passive, &c. But now, I feel I'm "in the zone."
Going back to Nabokov (I love that guy) -- I remember him writing once that, when he writes, he basically follows his characters around with a pen and a pad.
That's exactly the way I feel right now. I'm exhausted and I want to go to bed, but the story keeps wanting to tell itself to me. What to do!? :)
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
#AmWriting
Hashtag Am Writing ... and loving it.
This yarn is finally spinning itself. After seven years and four months from its initial conception, this baby is 17,933 words into its new form. Sure, I've thrown several false starts into the trash, sure, for years I wasn't sure from which side of the field I wanted to enter this game, but now, this first draft is a keeper -- and I no longer have to worry about what side of the field I'm coming in on, because this monster is pulling me onto the field. I'm not carrying it on and creating the players and scenarios.
The players and scenarios are creating themselves -- I'm just following behind like Nabokov famously wrote ... taking notes.
Since pinterest is one of the most popular sites on the web right now, and a lot of writers are using it to supplement and promote their books, I almost went ahead and created a page for this WIP, but I decided against it after reading some concerns some pretty savvy people have had regarding the site's TOS -- and how the place can potentially rob you blind or get you sued.
So, for now, no pinterest for this WIP, but I do like the idea of a site to supplement the work. The main problem I see though is that the web is so dynamic that sites (and especially pages within sites) come and go so quickly that most of the pages I had bookmarked in October of 2004 (when I first conceived this work) have vanished. I was smart enough at the time to save the pages as offline files but even those files aren't easy to read with current browsers!
If I create something on mikeduron.com, it'll be self-contained and not linking to any external sites unless I absolutely have to do so. I'll see what happens with that, but, right now, I'm just very happy this story is coming along so nicely.
This yarn is finally spinning itself. After seven years and four months from its initial conception, this baby is 17,933 words into its new form. Sure, I've thrown several false starts into the trash, sure, for years I wasn't sure from which side of the field I wanted to enter this game, but now, this first draft is a keeper -- and I no longer have to worry about what side of the field I'm coming in on, because this monster is pulling me onto the field. I'm not carrying it on and creating the players and scenarios.
The players and scenarios are creating themselves -- I'm just following behind like Nabokov famously wrote ... taking notes.
Since pinterest is one of the most popular sites on the web right now, and a lot of writers are using it to supplement and promote their books, I almost went ahead and created a page for this WIP, but I decided against it after reading some concerns some pretty savvy people have had regarding the site's TOS -- and how the place can potentially rob you blind or get you sued.
So, for now, no pinterest for this WIP, but I do like the idea of a site to supplement the work. The main problem I see though is that the web is so dynamic that sites (and especially pages within sites) come and go so quickly that most of the pages I had bookmarked in October of 2004 (when I first conceived this work) have vanished. I was smart enough at the time to save the pages as offline files but even those files aren't easy to read with current browsers!
If I create something on mikeduron.com, it'll be self-contained and not linking to any external sites unless I absolutely have to do so. I'll see what happens with that, but, right now, I'm just very happy this story is coming along so nicely.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Doing the Underground Timewarp ... Again
There are some masterworks of literature I find myself moving through at such a slow pace that time seems to melt away for me in a way I can only ever experience otherwise when I am ~creating~ -- whether the medium be poetry or paint or fiction. Dostoyevsky's NftU is that rare sort of fiction that, were it a dessert -- say a rich chocolate/pudding/moist,warm cake sort of thing -- I could spend days, weeks, MONTHS on! It's like that perfect, peatty, warming, haunting single-malt scotch at the perfect moment ... on that perfect evening.
How many times have I read and re-read the transition between chapters five and six of the second part? I don't know -- and I really don't care; I flip back and forth like a kid watching a DVRd magic show. And this writing, I'm convinced, ~is~ magical. Well, at least it will be until I pull out the dissection tools of the ruthless critic and take this butterfly apart ... joint by joint.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Reading Notes: Notes from the Underground
While reading through this phenomenal work by Dostoyevsky for the very first time, I'm amazed by the similarity to other (later, contemporary, and much later) works I've read. First and foremost is the similarity to the narrator's voice in Henry Miller's Tropics books -- and even Black Spring. Where once I thought Miller fresh, bold, hysterical and profound -- many things, but mostly original -- I now see that while he was one hell of a writer, he was not as original as I first thought. It's sort of like when I first noticed the similarity between Cubism and the art of the Ancient Egyptians -- where objects seen from different perspectives are depicted on the same plane. Where, before having learned of this similarity, I thought Picasso brilliant -- impossibly original -- I now think of him as a gifted genius but not as original as I first thought.
There is in Dostoyevsky's NftU a quality that seems so far ahead of its time that it gives me the chills at times. For instance, the section in Part 2 -- A Propos of the Wet Snow, Chapter 1, where he describes that long, ridiculous one-sided feud with the unnamed officer he works so hard to challenge at the Nevsky -- the same officer he feels he could have educated, improved, had the officer but given him the respect he deserved! This is Humbert Humbert speaking here! Who could fail to recognize Humbert in those lines -- also the echo of Charles Kinbote from Pale Fire!
Maybe the impression that his work is so far ahead of its time is created by the sheer fact that Dostoyevsky influenced so many of the great writers who came after him. And Dostoyevsky is not immune to such influence either. I can clearly discern the voice of some of Edgar Alan Poe's narrators in later parts of NftU. Sure enough, looking at publication and birth/death dates reveals an obvious overlap where it is possible -- though how probable I don't know -- that Dostoyevsky could have read Poe's work. This is something I suspect but not something I've had the pleasure of researching yet. I wonder if there is any literature out there on the influence Poe had on Dostoyevsky?
At any rate -- this I would include right up there with Don Quixote, War and Peace, Moby Dick, and The Old Man and the Sea, Lolita, To the Lighthouse, Orlando, and those few others as one of the greatest of all novels ever written.
Funny thing about this Part 2 of the story though. If you read (as so many tend to do these days) about this book rather than read it, you'll wonder even several chapters into the second part what ever happened to the prostitute everyone comments so much about. Interesting how everyone who has a lecture on youtube or a paper published online seems to neglect the wonderful anecdotes shared in the first two or three chapters of the second part of NftU....
While reading through this phenomenal work by Dostoyevsky for the very first time, I'm amazed by the similarity to other (later, contemporary, and much later) works I've read. First and foremost is the similarity to the narrator's voice in Henry Miller's Tropics books -- and even Black Spring. Where once I thought Miller fresh, bold, hysterical and profound -- many things, but mostly original -- I now see that while he was one hell of a writer, he was not as original as I first thought. It's sort of like when I first noticed the similarity between Cubism and the art of the Ancient Egyptians -- where objects seen from different perspectives are depicted on the same plane. Where, before having learned of this similarity, I thought Picasso brilliant -- impossibly original -- I now think of him as a gifted genius but not as original as I first thought.
There is in Dostoyevsky's NftU a quality that seems so far ahead of its time that it gives me the chills at times. For instance, the section in Part 2 -- A Propos of the Wet Snow, Chapter 1, where he describes that long, ridiculous one-sided feud with the unnamed officer he works so hard to challenge at the Nevsky -- the same officer he feels he could have educated, improved, had the officer but given him the respect he deserved! This is Humbert Humbert speaking here! Who could fail to recognize Humbert in those lines -- also the echo of Charles Kinbote from Pale Fire!
Maybe the impression that his work is so far ahead of its time is created by the sheer fact that Dostoyevsky influenced so many of the great writers who came after him. And Dostoyevsky is not immune to such influence either. I can clearly discern the voice of some of Edgar Alan Poe's narrators in later parts of NftU. Sure enough, looking at publication and birth/death dates reveals an obvious overlap where it is possible -- though how probable I don't know -- that Dostoyevsky could have read Poe's work. This is something I suspect but not something I've had the pleasure of researching yet. I wonder if there is any literature out there on the influence Poe had on Dostoyevsky?
At any rate -- this I would include right up there with Don Quixote, War and Peace, Moby Dick, and The Old Man and the Sea, Lolita, To the Lighthouse, Orlando, and those few others as one of the greatest of all novels ever written.
Funny thing about this Part 2 of the story though. If you read (as so many tend to do these days) about this book rather than read it, you'll wonder even several chapters into the second part what ever happened to the prostitute everyone comments so much about. Interesting how everyone who has a lecture on youtube or a paper published online seems to neglect the wonderful anecdotes shared in the first two or three chapters of the second part of NftU....
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
2004-2011: Rivals
Amazing. Has it really been seven years since I started cooking Rivals? I can't believe I will have been walking around literarily pregnant for seven years this coming October.
No matter. Regardless of the manuscript word count or the working title (now changed), the stew is still in the pot ... and it smells delicious.
In other news -- gazoonga.com lives as well.
I just sort of forgot to turn it on..... heh
Oh well. On to other things:
I've been reading and re-reading a lot of things lately. Everything from Tarzan of the Apes to Moby Dick, from King's On Writing to Gardner's The Art of Fiction has bubbled up from the bottom of the deep pond that is made up of ideas and works I love to stir and sniff and taste (and have wanted to experience for a long time but never really got around to experiencing until now -- like Lovecraft's Call of Cthulhu).
I've been stacking up books on my nightstand (some borrowed from co-workers like Dawkin's Greatest Show on Earth, others pulled from the library right outside my bedroom (Kiss the Girls, Blowfly, The Bad Place). Besides going through actual paperbacks and hardcover books from various sources, I've also been reading e-books pretty extensively. In fact, I bought the books by King and Gardner mentioned above in e-book format and don't even own a hardcopy of either.
I do a lot of my e-book reading using my cell phone (Samsung Fascinate). It's convenient and I currently use only two proggies for this activity, though I could install more. The two I use are Aldiko and, of course, Amazon Kindle (mobile). I write 'of course' of the latter since, apparently, it's impossible to delete this little proggie unless you're a 12-year-old computer major in your junior year at MIT.
When I'm not using my cell phone to read my e-books, I'm using my Sony Reader. It's got a larger screen and I like the way the print looks on it. Still, after having used all three proggies extensively, I can say each has its merits and drawbacks.
With Aldiko and Kindle on my cell phone, reading is great. I can turn on the night-vision mode and read the print just the way I like it: white font on black background. I don't know, I guess it stuck with me from the eighties. For me, it just seems so much easier on the eyes when you're reading from a screen such as the one installed on my cell phone.
Another great thing I love about reading e-books on my cell phone is the fact I can hilight text, copy it to the clipboard, open up Wikipedia or Dictionary.com and paste whatever I want to look up directly into the search box. Wow! No need to sit by the encyclopedias in the library anymore, eh? Of course, the Kindle app has a larger store with more books available, but I keep wanting to use Aldiko for some reason. I'm not sure why, I just like the way it looks. Maybe I just resent the fact the Kindle app is basically being shoved down my throat?
At any rate, the big drawback about both these readers is that they don't give me the ability to hilight text and enter notes on the hilighted passages so that I can review the notes later and comment on my remarks. This is something easily accomplished with the Sony Reader, although, with this nice little reader, I don't have the ability to access the sites I mentioned above.
I think this might be available in newer readers -- maybe even a newer version of the Sony Reader. I haven't looked into it yet. I have the Daily Edition version and I know for a fact there's a newer model than mine out in the market already. I just don't remember much about it off the top of my head.
So, what I'm thinking of doing now -- at least at home -- is reading the book, say "Tarzan of the Apes" -- on the Sony Reader and just researching things (like, say, what sort of 'apes' was Burroughs thinking of when he described the apes that raised Tarzan?) by not being lazy and just Swyping whatever I want to research into the search box on the app installed on my phone.
It's still easier and more efficient than jotting something down and walking over to the OED or the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Do they actually still print those things?
No matter. Regardless of the manuscript word count or the working title (now changed), the stew is still in the pot ... and it smells delicious.
In other news -- gazoonga.com lives as well.
I just sort of forgot to turn it on..... heh
Oh well. On to other things:
I've been reading and re-reading a lot of things lately. Everything from Tarzan of the Apes to Moby Dick, from King's On Writing to Gardner's The Art of Fiction has bubbled up from the bottom of the deep pond that is made up of ideas and works I love to stir and sniff and taste (and have wanted to experience for a long time but never really got around to experiencing until now -- like Lovecraft's Call of Cthulhu).
I've been stacking up books on my nightstand (some borrowed from co-workers
I do a lot of my e-book reading using my cell phone (Samsung Fascinate). It's convenient and I currently use only two proggies for this activity, though I could install more. The two I use are Aldiko and, of course, Amazon Kindle (mobile). I write 'of course' of the latter since, apparently, it's impossible to delete this little proggie unless you're a 12-year-old computer major in your junior year at MIT.
When I'm not using my cell phone to read my e-books, I'm using my Sony Reader. It's got a larger screen and I like the way the print looks on it. Still, after having used all three proggies extensively, I can say each has its merits and drawbacks.
With Aldiko and Kindle on my cell phone, reading is great. I can turn on the night-vision mode and read the print just the way I like it: white font on black background. I don't know, I guess it stuck with me from the eighties. For me, it just seems so much easier on the eyes when you're reading from a screen such as the one installed on my cell phone.
Another great thing I love about reading e-books on my cell phone is the fact I can hilight text, copy it to the clipboard, open up Wikipedia or Dictionary.com and paste whatever I want to look up directly into the search box. Wow! No need to sit by the encyclopedias in the library anymore, eh? Of course, the Kindle app has a larger store with more books available, but I keep wanting to use Aldiko for some reason. I'm not sure why, I just like the way it looks. Maybe I just resent the fact the Kindle app is basically being shoved down my throat?
At any rate, the big drawback about both these readers is that they don't give me the ability to hilight text and enter notes on the hilighted passages so that I can review the notes later and comment on my remarks. This is something easily accomplished with the Sony Reader, although, with this nice little reader, I don't have the ability to access the sites I mentioned above.
I think this might be available in newer readers -- maybe even a newer version of the Sony Reader. I haven't looked into it yet. I have the Daily Edition version and I know for a fact there's a newer model than mine out in the market already. I just don't remember much about it off the top of my head.
So, what I'm thinking of doing now -- at least at home -- is reading the book, say "Tarzan of the Apes" -- on the Sony Reader and just researching things (like, say, what sort of 'apes' was Burroughs thinking of when he described the apes that raised Tarzan?) by not being lazy and just Swyping whatever I want to research into the search box on the app installed on my phone.
It's still easier and more efficient than jotting something down and walking over to the OED or the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Do they actually still print those things?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Gazoonga!
Site is progressing nicely. I was checking out some places where I could advertise online. Found some good spots. Also, I created the "official" facebook page for gazoonga but don't plan to push anything until I can get that new ip addie this Friday. It doesn't help to spread the word if nobody can access the site from work or school afterall....
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Mobile Post Number 1
Okay, so it's a little past five in the morning and I've been up since three thirty. I'm obviously not getting any sleep, so here I go testing mobile blogger....
Monday, October 11, 2010
It Lives! ... Still!
Ahem ... well, it died; then it sprung back from the trash's bowels. I know, I know ... verging on the cliche, but what the hell? I started this project in October of 2004 and now it's the middle of October 2010!
Holy minarets, Bat-Man!
I didn't know that when I started Rivals the novel would be lost completely only to be started again from a completely different perspective -- point of view. The narrator has changed completely. The original characters will remain in the finished piece, but they won't be the main players. The story won't be told from the original guy's point of view.
Heh -- whod'a thunk?
Now I have pages in my drawer ... and I'm trying to finish the story before I have a diabetic stroke ... or else get stabbed on the bus by some other vato who doesn't like the way I'm looking at him (or the way his chick's looking at me) haha
At any rate -- it feels good to be back to writing again....
Holy minarets, Bat-Man!
I didn't know that when I started Rivals the novel would be lost completely only to be started again from a completely different perspective -- point of view. The narrator has changed completely. The original characters will remain in the finished piece, but they won't be the main players. The story won't be told from the original guy's point of view.
Heh -- whod'a thunk?
Now I have pages in my drawer ... and I'm trying to finish the story before I have a diabetic stroke ... or else get stabbed on the bus by some other vato who doesn't like the way I'm looking at him (or the way his chick's looking at me) haha
At any rate -- it feels good to be back to writing again....
Sunday, November 1, 2009
It Lives!
Ah, this novel has become the albatross hanging around my neck.... I need wind in my sails! Ha! Oh well, it's okay. It's like a big piece of cake I come back to now and again to take a bite out of. Eventually, I'll be done with the whole thing and, when people ask, I can still say it was a piece of cake to write -- eh? :)
At any rate, I'm off to my new start but I've been distracted with the daily struggles of life these past few months -- really working on the lowest rungs of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Now, things are settling down though and I've recently had more time to refocus on "my craft or sullen art...."
I'll start carrying a digital camera around with me and photographing things around town. As the pics collect, I'll post them here and on facebook to let anyone who might be interested have a look-see. [Thanks to Lucia Stanica for the inspiration to get me back to my shutterbug self again, btw.]
At any rate, I'm off to my new start but I've been distracted with the daily struggles of life these past few months -- really working on the lowest rungs of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Now, things are settling down though and I've recently had more time to refocus on "my craft or sullen art...."
I'll start carrying a digital camera around with me and photographing things around town. As the pics collect, I'll post them here and on facebook to let anyone who might be interested have a look-see. [Thanks to Lucia Stanica for the inspiration to get me back to my shutterbug self again, btw.]
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Novel: Update
About ten thousand words into this novel, I've decided to start from scratch. I'm not changing the story but the way in which I tell the story. Specifically, I've moved from a first-person, limited pov to something else. It's a sort of meta perspective I feel is more appropriate to the story and makes it more interesting for the reader.
Strangely enough, by tossing the old way of telling the story into the shit-can, I feel as if I've made a huge leap ahead in the writing of this book. I feel liberated from something stale and still; fallen into something dynamic and exciting.
Strangely enough, by tossing the old way of telling the story into the shit-can, I feel as if I've made a huge leap ahead in the writing of this book. I feel liberated from something stale and still; fallen into something dynamic and exciting.
Novel: Update
Now that I've gotten the actual format of my novel settled, I've focused on the timeline and am happy to report I've got that settled as well. The exact dates are in place and all that remains now is to make the entries required.
I've been flirting with creating a dossier for each of the main characters and feel I may actually begin that process tomorrow. I want to create an actual folder for each character -- complete with photos downloaded from the internet at random (likely photobucket). Sorry random people I select to be the physical representatives of my characters. What can I say? I selected you because I have good taste!
Okay -- back to work now....
I've been flirting with creating a dossier for each of the main characters and feel I may actually begin that process tomorrow. I want to create an actual folder for each character -- complete with photos downloaded from the internet at random (likely photobucket). Sorry random people I select to be the physical representatives of my characters. What can I say? I selected you because I have good taste!
Okay -- back to work now....
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Poem: "Luna"
Luna
O, white and tranquil summer moon,
Silent disk of placid light,
Let me never see another noon,
But live forever in this night.
The clouds endeavor to hide your face,
But their existence is fragile and they soon divide,
As I who live to see your grace
Ride a ripple of life that will soon subside.
But you, sweet moon, will yet remain
To light the night for children's eyes,
And by your light will lovers love,
And mothers sing their lullabies.
~Mike Duron (Alaska, 1999)
O, white and tranquil summer moon,
Silent disk of placid light,
Let me never see another noon,
But live forever in this night.
The clouds endeavor to hide your face,
But their existence is fragile and they soon divide,
As I who live to see your grace
Ride a ripple of life that will soon subside.
But you, sweet moon, will yet remain
To light the night for children's eyes,
And by your light will lovers love,
And mothers sing their lullabies.
~Mike Duron (Alaska, 1999)
Poem: Sonnet No. 8
The Spider
I have a spider my ex-wife called me
to kill. He'd fallen into her shower
and couldn't climb out of the tub. To see
him there, at a point in his life lower,
obviously, than any he'd ever known
before -- a point in his life just like mine,
I think, where she could have killed him and shown
some kindness, his quick death being a sign
of her understanding -- just warmed my heart.
I caught him up in some tissue and brought
him home. He has crickets now -- and my art.
I'm sure he can't know he's even been caught.
Spiders are dull -- about as dumb as bricks;
I just keep him 'cause he doesn't get ticks.
~Mike Duron (composed December 26th, 2001)
I have a spider my ex-wife called me
to kill. He'd fallen into her shower
and couldn't climb out of the tub. To see
him there, at a point in his life lower,
obviously, than any he'd ever known
before -- a point in his life just like mine,
I think, where she could have killed him and shown
some kindness, his quick death being a sign
of her understanding -- just warmed my heart.
I caught him up in some tissue and brought
him home. He has crickets now -- and my art.
I'm sure he can't know he's even been caught.
Spiders are dull -- about as dumb as bricks;
I just keep him 'cause he doesn't get ticks.
~Mike Duron (composed December 26th, 2001)
Poem: Sonnet No. 7
Fragile Friendship
People tease you about my love, don't they?
How strange to have this strange poet love you.
A penniless harlequin just won't do
when your beauty demands a knight to slay
dragons -- to rule kingdoms -- one who can say
dead and hollow things and make them sound true
(and with eloquence and arrogance too);
a well-heeled shoe to lay, love, and obey.
There was a time though, when your heart called out
to me with a sidelong glance and a smile,
when love's flower turned yellow-green and young.
It seemed to me there was nothing to doubt
back then it was happy flirting, not guile,
that made my old love yellow-green and young.
You shouldn't have let them hold your tongue.
Your lover is your heart, your friends your mind.
One makes you human, the others unkind.
In the end, with your friends, you will find
love like ours is all that really matters;
it endures, while fragile friendship shatters.
~Mike Duron (composed December 25th, 2001)
People tease you about my love, don't they?
How strange to have this strange poet love you.
A penniless harlequin just won't do
when your beauty demands a knight to slay
dragons -- to rule kingdoms -- one who can say
dead and hollow things and make them sound true
(and with eloquence and arrogance too);
a well-heeled shoe to lay, love, and obey.
There was a time though, when your heart called out
to me with a sidelong glance and a smile,
when love's flower turned yellow-green and young.
It seemed to me there was nothing to doubt
back then it was happy flirting, not guile,
that made my old love yellow-green and young.
You shouldn't have let them hold your tongue.
Your lover is your heart, your friends your mind.
One makes you human, the others unkind.
In the end, with your friends, you will find
love like ours is all that really matters;
it endures, while fragile friendship shatters.
~Mike Duron (composed December 25th, 2001)
Poem: Sonnet No. 4
Rainbows in My Attic
As we sat there at the table, I said,
"You know I have feelings for you, don't you?
You're only being nice...." Then you nodded your head,
slightly, and you turned to me smiling and you
looked as if you didn't want to kill me
but you had to kill my hopes -- tenderly
(like a little foal with a broken knee
or an old dog you put down -- tenderly).
I smiled back then and helped you with the ropes.
"I'm not a kid," I said, and, "It's okay."
That's when you rose to leave and all my hopes
died at the gallows -- where they hang today.
But isn't that so melodramatic?
Hopes are rainbows I make in my attic.
~Mike Duron (composed December 17th, 2001)
As we sat there at the table, I said,
"You know I have feelings for you, don't you?
You're only being nice...." Then you nodded your head,
slightly, and you turned to me smiling and you
looked as if you didn't want to kill me
but you had to kill my hopes -- tenderly
(like a little foal with a broken knee
or an old dog you put down -- tenderly).
I smiled back then and helped you with the ropes.
"I'm not a kid," I said, and, "It's okay."
That's when you rose to leave and all my hopes
died at the gallows -- where they hang today.
But isn't that so melodramatic?
Hopes are rainbows I make in my attic.
~Mike Duron (composed December 17th, 2001)
Poem: Sonnet No. 3
The Ship
My heart, so quick to spot you and to love,
unfurled its sails and deftly changed its tack
and, though this move surprised the stars above,
and mind and pride did move to turn it back,
this errant heart of mine could not be swayed
though every trick of pride and mind was tried,
it boldly strove to reach you -- unafraid
that by its love, its love might be denied --
so sailing on despite the stars and mind,
and with a faith no faithles heart could know,
it suffered waves of loneliness to find
that spot where all good winds to you do blow,
but now against your reef does my heart grind;
it should have, from the start, obeyed the mind.
~Mike Duron (composed Sunday, December 16th, 2001)
My heart, so quick to spot you and to love,
unfurled its sails and deftly changed its tack
and, though this move surprised the stars above,
and mind and pride did move to turn it back,
this errant heart of mine could not be swayed
though every trick of pride and mind was tried,
it boldly strove to reach you -- unafraid
that by its love, its love might be denied --
so sailing on despite the stars and mind,
and with a faith no faithles heart could know,
it suffered waves of loneliness to find
that spot where all good winds to you do blow,
but now against your reef does my heart grind;
it should have, from the start, obeyed the mind.
~Mike Duron (composed Sunday, December 16th, 2001)
Poem: Sonnet No. 2
To Sit Beside You
To sit beside you (even when your eyes
will not bless mine with any love -- when all
the world, it seems, would slow in time and fall
into an endless instant, should your eyes
just glance at mine with any love at all),
to see the perfect symmetry and grace
in every treasured detail of your face
as you smile and I fee your love is all
my pen would need to steal the stars and lace
their beauty, as a gift, throughout these lines.
To sit beside you, my love like vines
whose flowers open to the cool moon's grace:
Once, this was all my heart could want or need,
but, by a single look, my heart was freed.
~Mike Duron (composed December 16th, 2001)
To sit beside you (even when your eyes
will not bless mine with any love -- when all
the world, it seems, would slow in time and fall
into an endless instant, should your eyes
just glance at mine with any love at all),
to see the perfect symmetry and grace
in every treasured detail of your face
as you smile and I fee your love is all
my pen would need to steal the stars and lace
their beauty, as a gift, throughout these lines.
To sit beside you, my love like vines
whose flowers open to the cool moon's grace:
Once, this was all my heart could want or need,
but, by a single look, my heart was freed.
~Mike Duron (composed December 16th, 2001)
Poem: Sonnet No. 1
Threads of Arras
Whenever I take up this pen, thinking
I should write something describing what it's
Like to see you while this subtle aching
Leaves my heart in purple and crimson fits --
Yielding, then resisting the force that binds
Our lives together when we fall in love --
Underneath the sharp language of our minds,
My pen scratches out the hidden threads of
Arras you create inside me (all their
Richly-colored weaves softly tapped when you
Respond to my reticence with a dare:
Your usual kindly 'Hi' or 'How are you?').
Mostly though, I wonder if you realize
Everything I dream when I dream your eyes?
~Mike Duron (composed December 13th, 2001)
Whenever I take up this pen, thinking
I should write something describing what it's
Like to see you while this subtle aching
Leaves my heart in purple and crimson fits --
Yielding, then resisting the force that binds
Our lives together when we fall in love --
Underneath the sharp language of our minds,
My pen scratches out the hidden threads of
Arras you create inside me (all their
Richly-colored weaves softly tapped when you
Respond to my reticence with a dare:
Your usual kindly 'Hi' or 'How are you?').
Mostly though, I wonder if you realize
Everything I dream when I dream your eyes?
~Mike Duron (composed December 13th, 2001)
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Existence -- Thoughts from 1999
Life is nothing more than a vacation from non-existence.
The natural state of being of any thing that is is non-existence. After dissolution, a thing no longer exists. Before creation, a thing does not exist.
Therefore, the natural state of being of any thing that is is non-existence.
Existence is an aberration.
~Mike Duron, 1999.
The natural state of being of any thing that is is non-existence. After dissolution, a thing no longer exists. Before creation, a thing does not exist.
Therefore, the natural state of being of any thing that is is non-existence.
Existence is an aberration.
~Mike Duron, 1999.
Poem: "St. Paul"
If Saul of Tarsus had been a
real monster -- say a man
who molested children (each day
stealing one in his old van,
using his little girl as bait:
'wanna go to my house?'
she would ask at the playground gate)
and he was the type of spouse
who could brainwash his partner so
she would participate --
actually help -- and never go
to the cops while her soul mate
molested and murdered, then carved
the children up and cooked
the pieces for his fat, love-starved
dogs (those his own children spooked)
and, had one of your small ones been lost as such,
to a man reborn, could you forgive so much?
~Mike Duron (composed November 29th, 2001)
Note:
The ghost of the poet wanders in the spaces between the letters of his poems.
real monster -- say a man
who molested children (each day
stealing one in his old van,
using his little girl as bait:
'wanna go to my house?'
she would ask at the playground gate)
and he was the type of spouse
who could brainwash his partner so
she would participate --
actually help -- and never go
to the cops while her soul mate
molested and murdered, then carved
the children up and cooked
the pieces for his fat, love-starved
dogs (those his own children spooked)
and, had one of your small ones been lost as such,
to a man reborn, could you forgive so much?
~Mike Duron (composed November 29th, 2001)
Note:
The ghost of the poet wanders in the spaces between the letters of his poems.
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