the editor
Posted: September 6th, 2009, 3:04 pm
as for the editor whom
might be on metaphorical holidays
to forget the moment and add a comment
when one isn't seemingly warranted
the reading is always masked as an overwrite
and other provocations such as this
the editing taking time and over
durations of being re-read
becomes like a painting in the
re-defining of lines and colour
the shapings take on the particulars
of other peculiarities
leaving chance to a metaphysics
unexplained
seemingly more intuitive
and whether one has the instinct
for it
leaving things as they are
letting art take its place
and fall where it may
is a rudimentary understanding
of the philosophy of risk
and chance
some things don't work out
some metaphors are better prepared
and more explained than others
the day itself is as such
the same experience
in a different costume and candour
some moments seem to last forever
some lines seem only too forgetful
some people are never satisfied
the editor begins with a self awareness
that the beginning of a line of prose
has already undergone a kind of editing
and as for the philosophy of writing
it might only appear as more as a
philosophy of editing
as to what to include and what
to leave out
and the reading during this epic realization
is supposed to be self explanatory
as a self induced hypnosis
and a staring into images
that are seemingly provoked
by the absence of an otherwise
knowable truth
the painting is supposed to grab you
even if it does offend the sensibilities of reason
the journey from beginning to end
is supposed to supply it as ample cause for celebration
and for comment
and create an altogether spectacular creation
and where it fails to include
the possibility of being dust or pointless
seems to be the only risk that an editor might absorb
and for some realizations or poetry
being pointless sometimes is enough
lest it mask itself as some excuse
to just enjoy the art of reading
might be on metaphorical holidays
to forget the moment and add a comment
when one isn't seemingly warranted
the reading is always masked as an overwrite
and other provocations such as this
the editing taking time and over
durations of being re-read
becomes like a painting in the
re-defining of lines and colour
the shapings take on the particulars
of other peculiarities
leaving chance to a metaphysics
unexplained
seemingly more intuitive
and whether one has the instinct
for it
leaving things as they are
letting art take its place
and fall where it may
is a rudimentary understanding
of the philosophy of risk
and chance
some things don't work out
some metaphors are better prepared
and more explained than others
the day itself is as such
the same experience
in a different costume and candour
some moments seem to last forever
some lines seem only too forgetful
some people are never satisfied
the editor begins with a self awareness
that the beginning of a line of prose
has already undergone a kind of editing
and as for the philosophy of writing
it might only appear as more as a
philosophy of editing
as to what to include and what
to leave out
and the reading during this epic realization
is supposed to be self explanatory
as a self induced hypnosis
and a staring into images
that are seemingly provoked
by the absence of an otherwise
knowable truth
the painting is supposed to grab you
even if it does offend the sensibilities of reason
the journey from beginning to end
is supposed to supply it as ample cause for celebration
and for comment
and create an altogether spectacular creation
and where it fails to include
the possibility of being dust or pointless
seems to be the only risk that an editor might absorb
and for some realizations or poetry
being pointless sometimes is enough
lest it mask itself as some excuse
to just enjoy the art of reading