Sittin’ on the Shakra the Bay?
It was the best I could do. Hate to crowd in on Olly’s turf, but this can’t sit out there too long:
There is one stretch where I can see river and highway adjacent to one another. The first time I was there, I thought how much the freeway of cars was really like a river of water.
Wow. This man is miles above us.
But even the great thinkers err from time to time:
Listening for the sake of itself isn’t a value that this culture cherishes.
This would be a compelling point, if you turned a blind eye to the stubborn popularity of live and recorded music.
Also, as to Shakra’s point about political poetry cutting too close to a writer’s “core,” how can some half-baked eco-femmy rant possibly expose the poet’s inner what-nots more than, say, a poem about one’s inability to love, or one’s fear of death, or the fact that as a child, one’s uncle made one get naked and watch snuff films with him?
Oh wait, I’m actually trying to debate Shakra. Damn, the Shakra Beat is treacherous. Sorry, Olly, I’ll leave you to it.
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