‘on writers: I found out that most of them
there were schools, establishments,
groups gathered and fought each
there was literary politics.’
-Charles Bukowski, The Last Night Of The Earth Poems
This is a small withdrawal from the complete poem. This tiny bit speaks to me very clearly. I am self taught. And, now that I am finally submitting properly to publications, I am finding his words are incredibly accurate. And I am so damn thankful to be self taught. I belong to no club. No writing politics or policies take any portion of my writing mind-set. Maybe this will also help you.
My sunken soul is deep within me because my face is no more. We’re walking. Soon, leaves, wind, summer, ocean, sun, more wind and then rain. Mud runs with rocks down the mountain and here we are. and what the hell are you doing here.
Make a thing. Put it there. Next to the stone. Have you ever seen such a a thing? The thing held all the knowing- Having been put next to the stone. Now the knowing wishes to be. Have you ever sat outside, on the deck, in the middle of the night, and listened to anything that was willing to be? And the knowing was the maker of the sounds?