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© 2014


JULY  2014

A Different Shoebox

but a good start

A writer today lives and works from a different shoebox
Than the one my mom sent me from home after moving.
She didnít want me to stop writing or lose touch with my
Earlier works, regardless how little she understood them.
The continuation be all. It was then I realized my need to
To write regardless of the outcome. No stars in my eyes.
She always encouraged me to journal, draw, compose,
Put together whatever came over me, labor, spurt and
Drip, no matter what it was and keep it no matter how
Critical the artist, every item is preserved for the tomb.

Think like a pharaoh.

Ready and mason-jar your soul with mind furnishings.
Create that long narrow hall of storyboard mumblings,
Temple utterance echoes and tall tale glyphs that even
You cannot always decipher until the need arises and
Like revelations, fill you with profound hopes and awe-
Struck wonders of a personal universe unknown until
You got there, your caravans, processions, people who
Line the golden way of your private mythology, hand
Scrawled in primal media, script du jour, letter perfect.
Pay no attention to the bylines of dingy death rhetoric.

Think like a builder

Todayís Nike shoe, postal red, white and blue box, all
American, size 8-12 footwear packaging, size matters
But wonít be held against you, needs to be opened and
Read as often as possible. The medium is not relevant,
Art, music, stories, anything from ďwhat the?Ē to epic
Tomes of the birth of the poet and his fable foundation.
Save it all because there will come a day when an item
In that box will hinge on a watershed moment that will
Loom larger than planets in your motif and motivation.

Think like an astrologer

Project astral-charts of squares and trines, conjunct
Meetings with destiny, show where the lines cross, a
Stellum clusters in your mid-heaven. Any mind can
Jog, dance or work-out. The random stars are only a
Reminder of what is possible when all that is possible
Is kept in mind. Plot a way across the state of denial
And look the gift horse deep throat thru the Panaflex.
Stare at chicken giblets like a wary wild-eyed shaman.
Leave no stone unturned, undocumented or untraced
Back to origins of pre-natal earthís infant space dot.

Think like a film director

I donít care if you only sneeze on it, that grand sneeze
Will mean everything to you on that day and every day.
Art School, any school, avoid the typical movie shot of
Frustrated waste basket waded paper shot. It should be
Politically incorrect and banned from script writing and
Any scenes attempting to portray the creative process.
Thatís not how you create. A journal entry can be one
Or two words, half a line, or an unfinished paragraph.
Your journal, your notes, your scribbles are not to be
Tossed out with the nab wrappers and banana peels.

Think like a hoarder

Donít dismiss that dream box like rubble without a
Cause, you should CD rhomboid every item entry and
Shoebox every stone-drunken rant, sketch-book all
Scribbles, hand written wall visions, E-mails if an idea
Pops out of them, half or underdone photo shop ops,
Documented scrapes on peanut butter jars and stacks
Of old Folgers gone home, no subject is too crazy,
Up to your neck in history, rows and stacks of solid
Creative effort, hopefully in some accountable order
Known to you and the spiders. Put loose-leaf binders,
Notebooks and protected artworks behind shelves,
Under your stuffed chairs, anywhere is a good place.

Think like an operative

Code dark wordy, paint undercover of darkness, a
One bulb consciousness ignoring the cycles of a
Cycling world, doomed to repeat its own history.
Make your own new and improved historic voyage
To the end of the unfinished sentence of written
Lemon juice, the invisible pages of brown stained
Papers, doodles, thumbnails, notes to self, icons
Of inscrutable yet infinite scope that explain how
The hidden enemy within could overwhelm you.
Always be ready for a possible outcome or income.

Think like a scientist

Dare to be crazy. Bounce your ideas off the ceiling.
A scientist would say, yes, but is it crazy enough?
Embarrassed someone may stumble on your stash?
Think out loud, black and white, donít name names.
Use awful color combos, pink and yellow, frame the
Asinine, glue the absurd to the height of absurdity.
Paint on old newspapers, date your work. Find any
Solution that fits your complexity or lack there of.
The only unusable idea is buried in a garbage heap.

Think like the river run

The real world will all seem irrelevant in seventy years.
Youíll wish you had written a few letters to your self,
To be opened in a future when your head trips mature.
Believe that you start somewhere mid nebular blurb
And end with all the buttons youíve ever pushed to get
You where you may not think you wanted to be, back
When, in a palpable gold rush moment. You simply end
On a note in the same sentence you began but never
Finished until you realized how complex your criteria
For that answer might have been. Re-Joyce, out loud.


J W by J W

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