(Don't Look Down) by by Alan J. Blaustein

(Don’t Look Down)

Nice to let them out for air,
My bedlamites come shrieking from their cells,
Loosed to joyful havoc-making play.
Can I go so deep and do I dare, Listen to what truths my darkness tells,
To cast a thicker shadow on my day.

@2014 Alan J. Blaustein


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Bio: I no longer have a copy of Poetry News, a mimeographed magazine that published a tiny poem of mine when I was seventeen in 1967. I wrote on and off through various crises throughout the late 1960s and 1970s with no success, and in the 1980s I was involved in the East Village poetry scene of the time and published in several collective publications, know as What Happens Next. By 1990, I felt that I had run out of poetic steam, to borrow a phrase from something of Breton’s. I had already written mass-market paperbacks, and in September 1990 I started to work for Mixed Media Enterprises. I wrote and edited various publications for the client publisher. Poetry came to mind intermittently until October 2012, when I heard the pentameter again. I prefer formal poetry, taking Ezra Pound’s dictum that “when poetry moves too far from music, it rots,” but I will write free verse if the idea, inspiration or whatever strictly calls for it. Real poetry is about language, first of all.

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