I wake to windows filled with gold, like bullion outside.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Showing posts with label Autumn trees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Autumn trees. Show all posts
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
-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. ___ ... -
What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
-
Basquiat at the AGO: An Untitled Portrait When asked about his frequent use of "carbon" (tar, asbestos), Basquiat shot back, ...