Monsieur, you are staid, professional, solid enough; quiet, muted.
Yet you are a wild man.
When you strip your clothes, the frenzy begins. How can such passion hide under a veneer smooth as the pin stripes in a suit?
I remember, and am awakening. Erotic energy rises like smoldering bush fire. In your absence.
For you are not here, only there.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
-oh, writing process- on Metaphor
in my apartment on a dance-the-poetry-within-you day I never know what is going to emerge that day, ever, always a surprise a rough draf...
-
I sit before a large painting I am ready to trash to fret about my feelings towards it. Soon I am slapping paint all over the canvas. ___ ... -
Basquiat at the AGO: An Untitled Portrait When asked about his frequent use of "carbon" (tar, asbestos), Basquiat shot back, ... -
What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
No comments:
Post a Comment