A friend sent me this poem. While we haven’t been in touch in a long time, I’m happy to receive these things. I believe the best art is based on life. I’m not sure how art can exist outside of the experience of living. I’m a fan of short snapshots of the most mundane. Unnamed…
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For the Mother of My Mother’s Mother by Kenneth Patchen Wind. Flower. Pretty village.1847. This is the autumn, Jenny.Leaves scratchThe lowest star.Green are the leaves, Jenny. Pleasure in a warm young body… Dogs snapAt the Sullen moon.Cruel are the dogs, Jenny.They do their crazysad loveOver your sleeping face.Snow. Rain. A bad word. Jenny, my darling Jenny…Black are the leaves that…
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O RANGE Crush by Josh B. flutter through the handsome rule of the isles of tamari weaken your strength hear the whisper of the birds while the wind chimes sing under the night of the first moon shh are you lit? why are you? Please sit in the fire your cell is being prepared with…
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