Filed by Bil at 4:58 pm under Fightin' Words, Stuff to Read

I’ve been thinking about poetry lately. It’s true it sounds differently when you speak it aloud than when read inside your mind. It also sounds differently when you whisper it to yourself than when you shout it to a crowd.

I discovered the magic of whispering poetry quietly out loud for one’s own self this afternoon. I’m in the laundromat, and I whispered some poetry to myself between two noisy washing machines because I didn’t want anybody else to hear me. That would have been, you know, weird and embarrassing.

What I heard was mine and mine alone, and somehow it felt like now it existed in reality instead of just on a page. Funny, too, how it feels like if I knew anybody else had heard it, that would have depreciated the solidity of the words in the universe, as though if other people heard it, too, then it would have been just some collective dream instead of my own tangible experience. Funny, I say, because that’s pretty much the definition of crazy. But I know how I feel, and I won’t back down.

Also, I’ve discovered Darwin Deez. The weirdness and the beauty just keep coming.