Idealism...
and reality.
The Prototype...
and the production model.
What's Perfect...
and what's actual.
What Should Be...
and what is.
And poetry... lives in that gap.
When our actual is close to the Ideal, poetry is happy, positive, up.
When what we live with (or without), is hopelessly far away from what Should Be, poetry is dark, brooding, down.
When we feel like we have a foot in both places - one in a harsh reality, the other in an attainable Ideal - then poetry is full of ache, longing, hope, desire, tension, wistfulness, tenderness and pain.
In that case, we are stretched above a narrow but deep chasm, and are trying to bridge it with our own selves, trying to pull those two sides together (or, keep it from spreading further), with all that we have in us. We are in the gap between what Should Be and what is, and we feel the stress of it.
That's where poetry comes from. The gap. The space between.
At least... that's where mine comes from.
1 comment:
Hmm, not that I'd recommend Dave Matthews in front of my music moron friends, but he (& his band) have a song called the Space Between, or at least that phrase is mentioned in one of his songs (Dave Matthews Band). I still think he's a dirty stoner hippie, but the arrangement is nice. You should be able to find it somewhere in cyberspace. :)
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