So I tried to start with it.
But I've been having trouble writing here. (Hence the posting of old stuff.) So it didn't go anywhere. Or. Anywhere lengthy.
So. I now have more orphans. More bits for development. Mostly, because of the prophecy, about religion.
These are them. As I wrote them.
*****
2 comments:
if you were a sculptor instead of a poet, you could put these all on bits of metal or fabric and make them into a pile on a sheet and spray red paint all over them and call it art.
...too bad.
nat brought in these literary journals from all over the place to the prints... and there was one.. with this poem...
that was a bunch of these stanzas...that basically had the same structure....
but these stanzas were like strewn sorta spaced in a checkerboard on the page....
it was rather amazing... i wasn't sure what the order of the poem was.
and it made me think... that in conjunction with foer and faulkner... about:
so you have this poem
but sometimes... a poem is just a mind spew of a feeling or concept...
so what if you do just that... mind spew a feeling onto a page?
all the words and the images and the textures and colors and sounds!
what it... you could communicate your mind to someone?
anyway... this bit made me think of that.... that enthusiastic epiphany in a 70s youth group lounge.
Post a Comment