The first experience we have of Inner Space: our dreams.
Of course, if we censor our reports from Inner Space we end up with poetry that lacks authenticity.
I come from a dark place—I know that it will always be dark—I have spent too long in Inner Space.
Poetry has its own archaeology: it's what we excavate in Inner Space.
Did you follow your vision? Did you hear the voice calling you from Inner Space?
We fear the unconscious; it is a portal to Inner Space.
It was not a part of my repertoire of emotions; I was trapped in Inner Space.
Poems are reports from Inner Space.
November is "Inner Space Month".
Artifacts and the detritus of Inner Space wash up on the shores of consciousness.
One day everything you said from Inner Space will be used against you.
All artists are nihilists; they destroy the old in the act of reporting from Inner Space.
The poet's journey in Inner Space is the shaman's journey.
I live at the inn of Inner Space, the inn on the road through a forest; few come this way, few visit the inn, the Yew Tree Inn.
Where we live, those outposts of Inner Space.
I am sending out probes into Inner Space.
Someone emerges, one born from the genetic debris of Inner Space.
2015
First Published: Urban Graffitti, http://urbgraffiti.com/writing/poems-are-reports-from-inner-space-by-stephen-morrissey/#more-6185,
Edmonton, November 2015.
NOTE: A year after this was published I posted it on this blog, today I see that it is no longer online where it was originally published at Urban Graffitti. This is what is seriously wrong with online publishing and digital archives, they are subject to change without the author's notice: they can be deleted, altered, rewritten, removed, gone... Mark McCawley published this essay in good faith that it would stay online; after his passing his web zine, Urban Graffitti, was eventually taken offline. Losing UG we lost all the graphics, short stories, essays, etc., that were online. If Mark had these archived at LAC then I stand corrected.
SM
11/05/2018
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