what the hell is with all the spam
in my comment box? i saw a couple of comments and i thought woo! someone's taken the time to say something about my work and instead what i get is some kind of odd shill for i don't know what. aw, what the hell, that's capitalism, right?
this week's left me drained. i come home from work, do my usual dad and husband things around the house, then when anna and nick go to bed i am also crashing. plus i'm reading a few books that i bought at city lights last week including a collection of essays by h.l. hix and a novel by jaan kaplinski. it was kaplinski that inspired the last set of dailies
. in a short essay by sam hamill that concludes a volume of poems by kaplinski, the wandering border
[copper canyon press; 1987], says this about his identity as a man, poet and human being:
If I write about Estonians, I mean Estonians, but if I write about Indians, I mean Indians.
And in a sense, I am an Indian too. I am a Buddhist, and I am simply a man. And,
primarily, first of all, a sentient being, a sensitive being. And my poetry is a poetry
written by such a being, not simply by an Estonian.
i don't do identity poetics/politics too well neither. i live in california, have a common hispanic surname, but am a descendant of norwegian, spanish, english, and who knows what else. i am the progeny of california full of hyphens and hybrids. if someone asks me what i am i say i am simply a human being. yet i love all cultures. i love mexican culture[s], european, slavic, asian, southeast asian, indian and everywhere else that makes california such a bounty.
i am a lopez. i am a factor of all that i love and influences me. i am a northern irish-polish-eastern european-russian-mexican-norwegian-swedish-spanish-asian [et al.]-baptized catholic-bastardized buddhist-following-his-own-dharma-practice poet. there is that lot of me and all so luscious. i don't exclude nobody.