When a writer leaves that many spaces between paragraphs, I find it threatening.
What's in the white spaces?
Is it a white font of writing that curses us? Hidden writing that... She talks under her breath, muttering, blaming; I hear her the way one hears the ocean in a seashell held up to one's ear. In those spaces between the blocks of black words.
Especially when I see virid and cinnabar feathers lying about, and can hear the swishing of the endless sea foam beneath her squawking, the way she belittles us.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Woman with Flowers 7.1
(7th sketch in series, first iteration of this one) Woman with Flowers Flowers, props upholding the woman. The flowers, fragrant, imaginar...
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The Buddha says: “ You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself .” The path is uncertain. Uncertainty is the guiding for...
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What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
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direct link: Tones of Noir music: Alex Bailey, ' Piano Improvisation No 7 .' Do poems wait to be born? A poem whittled out of t...
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