Poems Are Doors To The Subconsious Don't Loiter On the Porch~ Walk In _______________________________ Ever since learning Coleridge conceived 'Kubla Khan' in toto while dreaming, I've been intrigued by the idea that much of what finds its way into poetry comes from corridors deep in the human sub- conscious, in a playground for private angels and devils -who do no one's bidding but their own- and may very well live in a kind of parallel universe. Might not Eliot's "you"- very well be a deeper part of Eliot himself in 'The Lovesong Of J. Alfred Prufrock'? Might not the "you" be a deeper self that houses his fears and desires under the conventional surface of the "I" of his conscious world so that in a reflective, somewhat melancholy- even braver- mood- he takes its hand and walks with it into territories unknown, or perhaps even threatening to his deliberate, waking life? Perhaps poetry comes to us through many garbled layers, trying to speak about those things we usually push aside. And here is the area where free verse-- utterly free verse shines: it's difficult to allow free flow that may lead to previously uncharted waters, when you are concerning yourself primarily with meter and devices. What I've found, is that you can allow the flow and the pull of language along with leapfrogging ideas to take the lead like an unbroken horse needs to run to let off steam- to get its legs- to become exhilarated. After the ideas begin to connect one to the other-- then and only then, apply discipline to writing poetry-- but only after the initial, loose associations have had their exercise. Try it. It works. As to the question, "What came first? The chicken or the egg?"-- I believe the most successful, original and vibrant pieces find their own way, stumbling out of the dark. After they appear, we can dress them up as we choose- but allow the subconscious to do its own automatic writing because that's what frees poetry in ways nothing else can: it's the happy riff between active thinking and musing-- playing and being free-- being staid or being unfettered. I've always thought the freshest poems are written by poets who allow this to happen, who trust it and follow it where it leads before they begin to hone and ply their art. That kicking you hear against the stable doors is a sign that you should be listening, and giving those roans room to run. I guarantee a surprising experience every time~ ~ yep. Every blessed one. Main Page 
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