A Fragment

The following is the beginning to a poem of sorts.  There are quite a few more stanzas to it, and more to follow, but this was the bit I wrote first, so, while perhaps not the best, it’s my favorite section.  The poem might end up being called “Mt. Ida, the Flight”, “Sunder Not”, “The Unity”, or something better that I haven’t thought of yet.  That latter seems likeliest to me.

The Great Reformation

I came to the important and mind-searingly simple realization that in order for this blog to be anything like a success, I would have to allow myself to be much more pithy than I tend to want to be as I’m writing for it. Perhaps the pretentiousness of monikering (I know… it’s not supposed to be a verb. I like it that way.) this site in such a way that every post ought to be a “minor literary work” (Thank you, Merriam-Webster) had gotten into my head a little too deeply. I really felt like in order to put anything up, I would really have to put Something up. Every post, an illumination. Every thought, an invention. This was the space for the minor aristocracy of my mental hierarchy.

But today I decided that my blog needed a little bit of democratization; an egalitarian movement; genuine self-revealing, entertaining pithiness.

So I sat down and thought, “Pithy. Pithy, pithy, pithy. What’s pithy?” and tapped my computer’s keys impotently. It was really rather pathetic.