A line floats beyond grasp;
at tongue’s tip but too far from lips
or pen to save.
A line floats beyond grasp;
at tongue’s tip but too far from lips
or pen to save.
I am best when I have work to do. Work is my drug of choice. Work obliterates the painful reality of neo-tyranny. Work dulls the unbroken monotony of soul choking bureaucracy infected society. I get high knowing someone needs me to get things done ASAP and when I rise I need not decide how to [...]
Note – Before we begin, though I feel I should not have to remind I do remind that all written can be prefaced with IMO and absolutes can be modified to “some but not all.” “One only reads well that which one reads with some quite personal purpose.” Paul Valéry “The interests of a writer [...]
Why read poetry at all? Why bother to become better? Most who read poetry read to experience joy, the beauty of language jitterbugging through time; the satisfaction of turning the key that unlocks the door to a room filled with wonder; the apotheosis of participation in sacred rites created by writers; the sudden, sacrosanct, orgasmic [...]
Of Poets we have enough. More to the point, of people who attempt to write poetry, our society overflows. Readers we lack; those who read poetry well appear too seldom in our society. Against all odds, poetry got cool to do. Current interest in poetry does not attain overwhelming popularity like that generated for national [...]
I hit a writing wall. Not a physical wall. Not writer’s block. A wall of distraction. Coffee in hand, I lay my pen against journal pages to create quick, small bits of poetry and watch, disappointed as my pen slips from the truth of poetry into paragraphic opinion and personal dogma. In my manner, I [...]
We endured adolescent tribulations, success and celebrations, in private, in public and on TV. We made love under State Street willows, in bedrooms, in cubicles, on kitchen tables, in the backseats of imported cars. We made children who are laughter. We made children who are murder. We made children who are nothing at all. Boomers, [...]
If I believed that in seven cosmic days the Omnipotent painted this canvas we call home, and I can think of no reason not to I would quake and tremble each time I heard yet another species passed the way of the dodo, another victim of yet another madhat hunt or developing incursion into limited [...]
A game of Focus vs Creativity haunting another waking occasion. Tempting is the Focus pill, resolute immersion, idea, goal, deadline, completion, interrupted only by frequent washing of hands. Enjoyable the other, natural, unmedicated Creativity, bouncing, fluttering thought, associative, continually dancing like sunlit patches splattered on a forest floor; laughing images, wise, silly, foolsung phrases; fragments [...]
My penis fell off in the night. it lay on the counterpane next to her night clothes, a lonely pink thought without a pen. I tried to put it back again but it was cold & burned my hands. She came home at 6PM. Indecently incomplete, I hid behind the bathroom door. She saw my [...]