#greg scheiber

The world is kinda constantly falling apart.  Everything is chaos, so it’s only natural that it works its way into art in general, and specifically into my work.  I suppose if you think about poems working like that, I believe that the purpose of the poem is to try to put things back together a little bit.

The good poem--the solid poem, the beautiful poem--exists solely in the liminal state.  It is a suture between the visible and the invisible, rippling the surface and plunging deep like thorns into the interminable fastnesses of our liquid souls.  Poetry arrives to us from this intangible inner landscape rising up like smoke and scattering among ourselves like soot from the ancient hearths where the Shelleyan coals of inspiration are lit and burn sullenly into oblivion.  The true strength of the poet arises from here.  He or she has the divine gift to transmute the utterly wordless into our construct languages.  It is a gift wanted and hard given.  It is tongues of fire.  These yearnings burn the poet and their words burn others.  Or rather, their words should burn others.  This art is nothing short of an evangelization--an evangelization to the human spirit--to the reckonings of our inner animal and our inner god.  To the reckoning of the human.

A Message from Greg Scheiber