My poetic manifesto: (written at the Soquel Safeway on 41st Ave. 4/3/2012, poetry everywhere)
To bleed ink. To explore the wreckage of humanity through fractalized continents of thought. Through fractured conceptualization and broken finger-bones. Through fragmented cognition. To discover that beauty, the concept of it, is broken and that what is true beauty, what truly touches us is the imperfect, the non, the white space, the defining limits are what give us the freedom to explore, to love, to write, to create. As these boundries expand, so to do our options, but in a world where we create our own choir to preach to, in a world where our search results are tailored to us, where we choose to watch news that reflects our own world view, where our connections to others are limited in self contained groups of our own making, we lose sight of reality, of reason, of axiomatic a=a. I strive to write through these self-made boundries to forge new paths of cognitive awareness. I work to embrace a wholeness of existence that can show the fallacy of the new social. These masturbatory enclaves that we have fabricated need a real fucking. I make sure my poetry can be that fucker. The cock that splits the lips of self-important narcissistic altruists. I make my poetry into a good, long, slow, fierce fuck. At the heart of the matter, it’s about fierceness. Fierceness is looking into yourself and baring what is there to the world, It’s ugly, raw, naked and true, and it’s standing there, truly naked, truly bared, with inkstains on your fingers and all your deeds laid on the altar of paper, it is, at that moment, raising your head and looking into the eyes of another person and saying “look”. That is fierce, that is truth, that is poetry.