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Shadow Work

Poets do work in the shadows. It's not a well rewarded job, in any sense.

The term “shadow work” has always been associated with poets. It’s work that is part of the informal economy, not paid - like housework, looking after children, charity work. It’s work that everyone benefits from but which is not recognized through the cash economy.

I have Sam Hamill’s book “A Poet’s Work” on my desk here in South Korea. One of the few I managed to bring with me. Hamill wrote often and very elegantly about the shadow work a poet does. Work that is not commerce but of the human spirit.

I’ve been dedicating myself now, these last few years I’ve got, to my poetic vocation and calling, 100%. But it ain’t easy. And the trials in my life of late remind me of my younger years, also scrapping together a life, paycheck to paycheck, so I could have time and peace of mind to be the poet I always was and am.

I’ve had the fortune to have had some “bene factors”, lived much richer in my life than I should have. I wrote the poem (video above) in Corsica decades ago. I was fortunate to get “hand me downs” and lived large and as if rich. My feelings came out in this poem.

And as I got, so I have passed it on. Things - you don’t own them, you just use them or pass them on. Or should. Here are some other posts I’ve written about reusing stuff, living more soulfully instead of drowning in materialism. Also, see these nice, sensible words of Steve Jobs, related to this subject.

Shadow Work

  • — to that other half, my “bene” factor

The shoes you wear for half a year
I’ll wear for 6 or more.

The shirt you wear this season
I’ll wear a lifetime long.

The music you listen to until the next big thing
I’ll dance to every day.

The drinks you sip at and never finish
I’ll to the bottom and quick.

The crusts of bread you leave at the side of your plate
I’ll live off of — better I’ve never ate!

The broad smile you flash infrequently
I’ll wear a lifetime long.

The thoughts so strong and sure, you think
I’ll in weakness push them to the brink.

The life you live like a tailored suit
I’ll live in spirit, a forever bearing fruit.

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NAKED AND ALIVE
Purely Poetry
Just my poetry. Raw, naked, served cold like poetry should be (so you can warm it up)
Authors
David Deubelbeiss