| Author: | Cameron Gordon | ISBN: | 9781311175113 |
| Publisher: | Cameron Gordon | Publication: | November 17, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Cameron Gordon |
| ISBN: | 9781311175113 |
| Publisher: | Cameron Gordon |
| Publication: | November 17, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
This is a collection of poems written over the course of two decades, with a few new ones written especially for this collection. Their theme is the ruminations and wanderings of the mind, sometimes beautiful, sometimes crazy, often mysterious. Those mental emanations can yield openings, more often closings and random static. I've tried to capture a bit of each in the poems, organizing them under two headings to capture both the sublime and the mundane (profane?) aspects of thinking.
I could say that these poems are travel notes of a voyager who has bumped his head against his own mind multiple times and sometimes says "ouch", other times "help", and yet other times, "ahhh". Or maybe these can be considered as one person's liner notes for the sometimes discordant and always circuitous record album of psychological and spiritual growth and retrogression. Or...well, it doesn't matter. It isn't easy being human, caught between the earth and the heavens and not knowing which direction to pull or push in, or whether to pull or push in the first place.
But at least we can write poetry. And that is no small consolation.
This is a collection of poems written over the course of two decades, with a few new ones written especially for this collection. Their theme is the ruminations and wanderings of the mind, sometimes beautiful, sometimes crazy, often mysterious. Those mental emanations can yield openings, more often closings and random static. I've tried to capture a bit of each in the poems, organizing them under two headings to capture both the sublime and the mundane (profane?) aspects of thinking.
I could say that these poems are travel notes of a voyager who has bumped his head against his own mind multiple times and sometimes says "ouch", other times "help", and yet other times, "ahhh". Or maybe these can be considered as one person's liner notes for the sometimes discordant and always circuitous record album of psychological and spiritual growth and retrogression. Or...well, it doesn't matter. It isn't easy being human, caught between the earth and the heavens and not knowing which direction to pull or push in, or whether to pull or push in the first place.
But at least we can write poetry. And that is no small consolation.
