DAVID LAWRENCE : Brooklyn Option
CAROL BORZYSKOWSKI : Comments on Good Writing
contemporary international poetry - for your reading pleasure,
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All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Central Oregon Community College

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Brooklyn Option
Front Street in Brooklyn and the sense of community tons Over me with the weight of a slab of atmosphere, The solidity of genre. I am an investigative alien in the communal watch Of attacking mirrors. The shops disappear into their commodities But leave a feeling on the streets Like warm dog urine. I imitate part of this urban rendition of semi-suburban life. If I lived here I would be part of life's brouhaha, A wandering card in a deck of fifty-two options. I'd call this home if it were't for the estrangement Of wondering what I am doing here in a fringe borough. I pick up my Norwegian salmon sandwich on French bread At Almondine and imagine that I am in a caper among egg Slices near Boulu in Soho.
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I have many things to write unto you but   I will not write with pen and ink
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Bob Marley
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CAROL BORZYSKOWSKI Comments on Good Writing

[from 01.10:120 ENDNOTE]
Good Writing sets a taproot in your brain that sinks down to touch your soul.

I refuse to dismiss the importance of reading and take a firm stand to promote the written world. I applaud PoetryRepairS slogan: 'Read more poetry, Repair your mind.' We all need poetry in our lives. We need to see it, hear it and feel it.

Poetry is springing up in advertising on television. Performance poetry with musical background that engages the ear and sells the product. Okay to that I say, look at the medium, look at the form. Applaud the rhythm and rap.

I have always thought that reading expands your world. A poem that sinks into your soul is read and reread and from that day forward, there is a different light about your eyes. Writers able to take the universal out of the abstract and make it personal to you have fulfilled their greatest function. Sinking a taproot into your soul will change you forever.

Too much violence everywhere? Violence is, to most people, too vague and abstract. Sure you care; but, you dont know the people. Those people are dying across the world from you and not directly connected in any way. You may "feel" the horror of the situation; but, you are not truly engaged nor effected. Yet, tap into the right story or poem, one whose author has distilled the abstract into one happening or character that you get to know, and when violence or tragedy strikes then it rocks your soul. You are struck dumb. If the taproot reaches your soul and expands in and from your soul, then you are able to see the horror of the universal problem.

It isn't 27 people killed by a "friendly" bomb while at a wedding reception; it becomes your friend Geia, who finally was able to wear her big sister's shoes and go to a grown up dance. Her shoe is the one lying empty at the edge of the ruined dance floor.

Encourage the poets and writers. Keep reading and when you find the right words, share them.

All good writing is political in a sense. Writers, dreams and poets show the world as we need to see and understand it. Read more poetry; Repair your mind. Repair the world one soul at a time.

Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

Music Time in Africa

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Brooklyn Option Comments on Good Writing  
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Myths say that if one sings soulfully and with fervor over the bones of a wolf, she will rise from her bones and walk away full-bodied. Like a modern Indian chanting over buffalo bones, to revive his sacred food, I sing psalms of praise and forgiveness to the wolf; from hot, humid arroyos of Oklahoma where I ran free and above the steep asphalt canyons of L.A. where I am bound by voluntary servitude in glass and steel mountains. The horned owl, the cougar, deer, elk, air and water all need the wolf to make their land wild again. What do I need? I know about raw power creating the mountains, know about water sculpting ridges and gouging out deep canyons. Now I walk over moss-padded boulders, under beards of lichen hanging from ancient trees; lie on river banks watching the future-- primordial water raging toward me, by me, into the past. I need the wolf to rip away layers of asphalt, scratch in my red dirt and howl over my bones to resurrect my natural man.

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  • Brooklyn Option DAVID LAWRENCE produced an odd, ironic poem that defies alienation by pointing to the detritus , which survives estrangement from nature, and by its focus (one might say 'closest focus') to nature: atmosphere, dog urine, ingrediants of sustenance].
  • Comments on Good Writing CAROL BORZYSKOWSKI . editor: .
  • Wolf JIM MANNING from poetryrepairs MM.01:009.
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