Thought Balloon: Winter, Sucking the Bullet

thought balloon small asterisk

*Winter is the gun in the mouth that, except for the fraction in luck, sucks the hot lead exploding into the brain back to the muzzle, into the barrel, back to the chamber, stilling, chilling, re-mating the bullet with cold brass and unignited powder.

File under talking to myself, letting you listen.

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Annals of Twitter: BECKETT STOP NEW YEARS

And as Tiny Tim didn’t say, Godot bless us everyone.

Museum of Joy: Spirit of Waters

Redon_spirit-watersOdilon Redon, Guardian Spirit of the Waters, 1878

Random Photo: Buskin, No Sock

mummer face central park louisville

A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.

Unjust Venn Diagram of Confessional Poets

venn diagram yay for pedants

The ones whose open mouths
are unhealed wounds.

The ones whose closed mouths are healed scars
pulled together over wet soft void.

The ones whose words are spelled in pointillist
splatter awaiting forensic specialists.

The ones whose verses are pantomimes of ink
on paper, serif pixels on a screen.

The ones who juggle the slices of pie
dripping ichor, slinging off little chunks of minced muse.

The ones  who use an app to create
the diagram, to include themselves in, the other ones out.

The ones who mourn their lost spirographs
with which they transcribed the music of the spheres.

Grendel’s Laundry List: Unaddressed Audience

If you address yourself to an audience, you accept from the outset the basic premises that unite the audience. You put on the audience, repeating cliches familiar to it. But artists don’t address themselves to audiences: they create audiences. The artist talks to himself out loud. If what he has to say is significant, others will hear and are affected.

The trouble with knowing what to say and saying it clearly and fully is that clear speaking is generally obsolete thinking. Clear statement is like an art object. It is the afterlife of the process which called it into being.

Ted Carpenter

A clear idea is therefore another name for little idea.

Edmund Burke

How can I begin anything new with all of yesterday in me?

Leonard Cohen

Museum of Joy: Sylvia danced with Scissors

plath4 collageCollage by Sylvia Plath