"lying to ourselves in our own creative ways"
How melodramatic it all seemed. Standing around for hidden cameras; for God to finally make an appearance after years of upturned faces. She had been dead for fifteen minutes before we realized anything had happened. I couldn’t help but think that someth… All of us standing there, lying to ourselves in our own creative ways.
I've been doing a lot of thinking here about creativity and lies. It seems appropriate that my old friend & fellow poet Andrew Freiman, whose challenging work interrogates the blurry intersection of technology and truth, just published some poems thinking about the very same issues. These are excerpts from a darkly playful & innovative book called The Pledge (when was the last time you read a book of poetry that includes QR codes linked to videos that deepen the underlying narrative?), and I hope the publication of these pieces gooses the production of the full work--it's brilliant, I think, and utterly necessary.