Architextural Press

Impressions of J

2005-11-16T20:38:00.000-06:00

Impressions of J.—

The fragile glance into my reflection
draws introspective silence.
Inquiring into the depth of my eyes
to envision a calmness beyond
a dark stormy troubled conscience.

Emotions convolute to the surface
as a compilation of my sentiments
yet the eyes are my Mother's
from her I have inherited.

Immersed in self-reflection,
I recollect times of importance
in my youth.
Insights to tomorrows
by the shelter of innocence.

Open to embracing
an unknown influence
of the world beyond the sidewalk
before my childhood home.

A Few Poems

2005-10-27T20:56:00.000-05:00

I am ready to admit my poems are to be final as I begin the tedious proofreading
rather than the deliberating drafting of my writing. Already, an Illustrator is offering
to try a hand to accompany the pieces, and I am receptive to see what may become
of bringing these together and calling the pieces to a closure.

I was reluctant and protective before I took a revising of some of the poems
which emerged two sets of the same names. Respecting their difference without one eclipsing value of one another in presentation.

No timetable but a definite direction as I am ready to bring to closure and being
with new pursuits I have scattered in jotted inspirations and have not endeavored to begin.
It is not a prolific works, but one I can feel confidently stands without me now.

Three o'clock in the morning

2005-09-29T17:45:00.000-05:00

Perceptions are evasive when I realize all the facets are lucid
in and of themselves. The state of their collage
within the company of one another
makes a disturbing contradictory exhibition.

The diner is more than familiar, but this is table 18
and not table 17. Instinctively I would sit at table 17.
Not at this hour. 3 o'clock in the morning.
The diner is not open.

I cannot get a handle on it,
and the coffee evades my tendency to drink
without keeping count how many cups I have drank
as an unseen hand has replenished a mug
I haven't taken a sip from yet.

The urn is filling
and I can hear the sound of water
beginning to flow
and the grounds I can smell
brewing into the industrial brushed stainless steel vessel.

The well worn table top shows clearly
every mark and coffee splash in the sunlight
cast through the windows behind me in this world of distortion.
Certainly the darkness of the hour ought to shade the sunlight
from revealing how unattainable this coffee
at this hour remains for me.

Yet I am aware the hour has come
that I must awaken for work is expecting me.
The coffee mug, the table, and the diner
disappear and I rise abruptly
to prepare for work which lacks
these familiar comforts
amidst these contradictions.

A Letter To The Editor

2005-06-27T21:03:00.000-05:00

For My Editor:

The sculpted clutter of neglected projects waits for my attention.
If I could only--- Enter as many passing whimsical topics
on putting myself to task and being focused.

Sometimes, I reassure myself I shall take an afternoon
and set out to the coffee shop.
The front window of the diner for a light lunch and revising drafts.
Anywhere I can sit and work. Just pen and paper.
Letting myself put order to projects.

Half-jotted concepts with potential word choices
and quick scattered sequence impressions
splashed with jigsaw puzzle disorder on the paper.

I confess my fundamental achievements
tend to present themselves
while I wait in a laundromat.

Between washer and dryer cycles,
I think of all the things I could be doing
if I didn't have to wait for laundry.

Too short to go elsewhere without being rushed
and long enough to grow restless waiting.

I would write a letter, and the ideas would start to dwell.
Ideas I had not disturbed since who knows when I put them on some paper.
Incomplete perceptions I left at home in a notebook I misplaced.

A summary of a project forgotten about starts forming in a personal letter.
A sense of obligation as in work to be done.
Purpose and meaning that require my attention to form.

Writing is a self-rewarding involvement
where I cannot expect another to appreciate
the satisfactions and torments of being "in progress.".
The initial thought to finished version
is a consuming conscious effort to exact an impression.

Yet I have left these endeavors stagnant
after a troublesome moment in my life
and have not returned to take care of my unfinished work.

My editor recognizes that suffering awareness of circumstances
I have felt abandoned in my endeavors.
I realize although we are apart some grand distance,
She wishes to help me in my endeavors.

A lost line in a revision that she smiled upon in a draft
will be commented on afterwards.
But not before I say I am ready to proof a final version
as it may alter what I choose to revise.

The revisions have begun at an awkward time
where we are apart and I feel unsettled in my daily endeavors
much less returning to writing.

I believe in her.
To entrust her with what I feel too fraile
to complete without her advice.
In knowing she wishes that I find fulfillment.

Introducing Architextural Press

2005-04-02T22:45:00.000-06:00

Welcome to Architextural Press:

While immersing one's lexicon to amalgamate
Architextural is not my novel invention,
Architextural Press conveys my intentions.

I acknowledge art appreciation implies an audience.
Chosen or not, Writing opens a writer to critique and criticism.
Both closely related: Critique implies academic asceticism
while Criticism implies a judgment within the observer's weltanschauugen.

My textual endeavors are my primary means
of conveying impressions which I cannot procure otherwise.
The cultural involvement of Art as a destructive act
also involves dialogue between the artist and an audience.

Picasso told his daughter Maya,

"It doesn't matter whether they praise you or
criticize you, the important thing is to be talked about!"

Press is a force of exposition that once it escapes
the writer's hands as finished is at the mercy of interpretations.
Interpretations clash, arguments for one's perspective entail,
and conversing is what amalgamates Art, Text, and Culture
into an architecture of a comprehensive view of the world and human life.

Architextural Press: My effort to present a place for discussion.

The entanglements of my own writings
and the audiences that have sought to make themselves available
is a challenge in itself. How effectively I can allow this medium
to overcome what I cannot afford to achieve in print
is a matter of your volition: those who choose to be an audience.

"Work hard, Struggle in vain. Fail miserably."

J. Grab