maria is as real as air. you all know her just as well as I do, just as intimately, and just as mercilessly. a black maria is the name for the hearse carrying Irish political prisoners to the morgue. maria is the name of the transport called culture carrying us relentlessly to our final mental resting place.
poetry is an odd way for a human being to express themselves. the act of writing poetry is very private. the act of reading that poetry is voyeuristic. people who write poetry with the intention of having others read it, are actually inviting strangers to take a seat in their heads. this gives readers access to the entire person behind the eyes, warts and all. you can try to hide stuff in your poetry, little secrets and such, but you can't keep anything confidential. you can't help it, you leave clues everywhere, in the words, in the images, in the situations, even in what you haven't said.
incarnations of black maria provides a momentary view of a life. there are some good things in the story, some whiney type things, some stupid things, even some heroic things. i've taken a slice of mind, mounted in on a slide, then stuck it under a high power microscope.
maria is as real to me as air. she isn't a person. she isn't an idea. in fact, she doesn't exist. yet she is as real to me as air. you all know her as well as I do.
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