Out of the thousands
who are known,
or who want to be known
as poets,
maybe one or two
are genuine
and the rest are fakes,
hanging around the sacred precincts
trying to look like the real thing.
Needless to say
I am one of the fakes,
and this is my story.
Leonard Cohen
What a surprise to reach the end of this poem and find it written by Leonard Cohen!
ReplyDeleteI first read Leonard Cohen's poetry in high school and immediately fell in love with his dark visions. Do all artists think they're "fake" in comparison to others? I can't imagine Picasso (having just seen the exhibit at the de Young) saying this. Was this just Leonard Cohen's dark night of the soul (a fleeting moment) or does he often feel this way?
ReplyDeleteI don't know how I feel about this one. Not sure I believe in "fake" poets--but maybe I do. As I said, I'm not sure. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteIt's the judgement that throws me. Why bother? A fake to one, authentic and inspired to another.
ReplyDeleteI went to the coast. Went camping. Tied my kayak on top of my friend's kayaks on top of their truck, so we could drive to the river and paddle up stream. It started raining. My friend said, "Let's bring our books. If it keeps raining, let's go to the coffee shop and read, but I'm sure it will clear up as we head south." It rained. It rained harder. We went to the organic coffee shop in Mendocino and read the papers (it was the day before they got the killer in the forest where you Ruth and I camped 2 summers ago) I looked out the window at underprepared people walking in the first rain. I went to the bookstore and bought Leonard Cohen's Book of Longing. Maybe it was the coffee? I found the whimisical sketches of profiles, line drawings of shapes and feelings and his descriptions of study with his Roshi and his adulation of cigarettes laugh out loud funny. This one for me was matter of fact comical, but I see now it had to be in the context of the page before and the page after and the rain spotting sweat shirts to darkness.
ReplyDelete