What is it, I wonder, that makes us love the blues, the sad country ballad, the somebody done somebody wrong song, the dark forces of pulling apart? Sure, I'm talking about song-writers, poets, and artists -- we're the worst, I suppose, but is anybody rushing out to buy totally happy music? To buy novels or see movies without any conflict or struggle?
A lot of people, though, seem to be able to see the flick, get their safe dose of tragicomedy, and go home. Is it only those of us striving to be creative who turn our lives, and those of people around us, into little operas? I know people who appear to be continually happy, and it seems to me they must be running on some alternative fuel to the stuff I burn. I fear, sometimes, that the urge to tell a good story gets all mixed up with living a life that makes a good story. The problems really seem to arise when the tales of our existence are winding down and we try to get to a "happily ever after"line. I keep writing, but some days I feel I'm getting farther from that ending .
Ralph Murre is the author of "Crude Red Boat" and "The Price of Gravity, both books of poetry; author and illustrator of "Psalms", a book of poetry and art, co-author, (with Sharon Auberle)of "Wind Where Music Was", a book of poems of experience, and he is editor/publisher of several books of prose, poetry, photography, and drawings from Little Eagle Press, which he founded. Ordering information for these books is available from
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