Posts Tagged ‘art’
You sleep next to me while I am wide awake. The ideas are firing, and the only thing I can do to quiet my mind is write. I slip out of our bed to the other side of the room and start. Your face is calm in sleep and of course you are beautiful. I [...]
There is a type of writer who cares less about writing than about being a writer. There is a type of writing that comes from a machine where all the characters and plots are etched onto its keys.
Artists are not the only ones to invent personal languages and mythologies. The text of this installment is taken from the start of a poem in my Bellwethers series, Noctilucent. It also appears in the zine with the dandelion lady on the cover, and you can get a copy of it if you email me.
Wafting can cause nausea. You wake up, or rather you stop trying to sleep. All you want to do is vomit, but you have to make it all look so easy. Good morning, feather.
Do you ever worry that, or wonder how, something that you make that can matter so much to you, can fail to matter to anyone else? And does that even matter?
No tourist takes a picture he does not already have in his mind. They copy postcards already seen. They take pictures of their own expectations. The world needs benevolent camera joyriders. People need to leave more of themselves behind.
If only we could just replenish and turn, replenish and turn, never run out of blank slates. Maybe we can. That’s what I hope for, anyway.


