The thing I find about poetry is that there is a right amount. Right is as always the not right sounding word. There is no universally right word. Love in English is also applied liberally yet I have come to feel that there may be a universal love. My affection for chocolate and melody and hugging and orange-green-pink-brown may very well be the same love as every other love. I resisted it a long time but I see it now. How can I compare that to right? I have such trouble with the word right. I hate it so often. I think it is hateful. Cruel. Abusive. Wrong. Yeah, right is wrong. Yet here I am saying, above, that there can be a right dose of poetry. In that sense I mean fitting versus moral. But is there a difference between fitting and moral? Meditating on this point might be important. The right thing to do, when the time is right.
Reading, and stopping, are valuable decisions. The words go on. How to decide to stop? Paragraph page chapter book library language exist outside me and are thus not calibrated to my required dosage. They're external markers that help me remember where to pick up reading again. Time too is not quite attuned to my own rhythm. The internal syncopation is the real one, like how I know to stop now.
By Rob Middleton who can be reached @[email protected] on Mastodon