Thoughts and Thoughts

I am a little paranoid after reading some of my poems today and realizing how dark and insane they sound.

That love poem I posted was a bit of a change (at least it's in iambic pentameter) BUT!

Does anyone understand what I am saying anymore? Sometimes I'm afraid that I am just speaking nonsense to myself and imagining that it is something profound (the first sign of insanity).

I don't mean 'does anyone find me intelligible anymore?' but 'Am I someone who people can look up to as a model of diligence, intelligence, and munificence?'

Okay, I'm kind of joking --- BUT!

Last night I dreamt that Barack Obama, Hilary Clinton, and a close friend of mine died. Robert Hass (former poet laureate and professor at Berkeley) did a memorial speech, but was so outraged against life for the death of Obama that he smashed a bunch of flowers against the podium and collapsed.

Harold Bloom says something like this about outrage: moments of outrage constitute the steps on the way towards death, which cannot be faced adequately. A justification for life must be invented while in the midst of such outrages.

A justification for life? I seemed to have lost a serious one a while ago.

Was it the drugs or was it that Rhetoric class I took with that Heideggerian woman that so confuzzled me?

Let me speak plainly: the only thing I am working on right now is a fantasy novel. I enjoy creating a narrative out of these many romantic images I have had in my head for some time.