the other side of summer

holy shit.  here we are in the middle of august.  fall is just nipping at our heels.  the light in northern california, the most gorgeous light in the world [of course i'm biased, i'm a native son], is changing from the harsh fluorescent white glare of high summer, to the diffused, smoky, golden hues of early fall.  i love fall.  bring on the pumpkins, the corn, the root vegetables, and the ghouls and goblins of halloween.  but fuck, i have yet to take a summer holiday.  yeah, i know.  boo hoo.  i'm fortunate to even complain about summer flying past me without a summer holiday.  but there was something the elders of my youth always said, treasure your life because the years go by so quickly.  i paid them no mind.  however, they were so right.  i'm moving into geezerhood.  not as a metaphor but as a numerical value.  hang on.  because the next several decades that might be alloted to me will go by even faster.  what to do about it?  nothing.  but for those family, friends and whatever you might be obsessed, if you are lucky to be obsessed, with something.  for me, my obsessions are poetry, movies [horror and exploitation, and everything in the interstices] and music.  is poetry a career?  not for me.  i've made it a life.  for better and for worse.  if nicanor parra can make an anti-poetry those who take up the mantle can also make an anti-life.  what the fuck does that mean?  fill in the blanks yourself.  for that is the beauty of 'anti'.  we are what we make of it.  including life.  if you choose poetry, or if poetry chooses you, make of it the best you can, in any fashion you can.  one does not need to be a university professor to be a poet.  any job will do.  you don't even need to publish books.  a blog, twitter, or whatever, will do.  that is one of the definitions of antipoetry, and a life in antipoetry.

peace