short, 'scribbled' longhand wordpoems, written in the Summer of 1967, from the Found Book, lost in my garage's rafters for decades..............







.........unedited.....though, tempted, I was, to write them 'better'.......reading the dozens of poems from my 'teen's' certainly reinforced my ideas about the transformativeness of the brain's abilities to express thinking constructs more accurately and clearly in later stages of 'maturity'....

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

WHITTLING AT THE COALESCENT DROPS OF MEMORY

Polly Steele's "FOUR LETTERS OF LOVE" and the Danny Strong, IFC Production,  quasi-biopic, " REBEL IN THE RYE "......were short-lived in American Movie Houses.......I watched both Films, as a double-feature, recently......their romantically intellectual content, certainly, displaced some intracranial detritus left by the oily rags of routine film residue that was shunting my choreographically interpolated interstitiality  with the hammering of Marvel Comics Mentalities.. double-billing with Killers of the Cosmos..... Max Bierbaum suggested, in a rather long cinematic dream, that I consult with Zuleika Dobson, prestidigitator  to the Sensitive Neurotics of evanescent  Art World Confidentiality.. ...Don't slip on the ocean-sprayed cliff, Rochester....it's a hard tumble, even into water, from this height......Why is Bertha Mason laughing, even with molten beeswax running down her palms?    Sometimes, this is the 'soft light that breaks from yon window...
Read more

REMEMBERING THIS POEM THAT WE READ, DURING COLLEGE DAYS, AS I ANTICIPATE THE DEATH OF THAT OLD FRIEND, WHOM I LOVED........

Thanatopsis Poem – by William Cullen Bryant (Text-Version) To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;— Go forth, under the open sky, and list To Nature’s teachings, while from all around— Earth and her waters, and the depths of air— Comes a still voice— Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim...
Read more

What's all this Mess all about, Alfie?....What's 'IT' all about?

Image
THIS AFTERNOON, THREE YEARS AGO, I SPENT ABOUT A HALF HOUR DISINFECTING, THEN CLEANING "IT" OF BLACK MOLD, VARIOUS FUNGI AND MILDEW.....AND DRYING THE WARPED LINEN CANVAS WITH A HAIR DRYER....JUST TO SEE WHAT THE HELL "IT" WAS 'ALL ABOUT'......THEN, SUDDENLY, '"IT" ALL CAME BACK': "WHAT IT WAS ALL ABOUT'......FEELING A BIT OF NOSTALGIA, I PHOTOGRAPHED "IT", SURROUNDED IT WITH A VIRTUAL FRAMING JOB....AND....HERE...IT "IS", UNBUCKLED AND 'RESTORED...DIGITALLY'.....AT THE TIME OF ITS CREATION.....1966, WHILE I WAS IN ONE OF PURYEAR MIMS' ART CLASSES AT VANDERBILT.....I WAS THINKING: "SOON, I WILL BE A GREAT ARTIST or WRITER or PSYCHIATRIST, or FASHIONISTA.......AND MY WORKS WILL HANG IN GALLERIES, ALL OVER THE WORLD!"..... WELL.......THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN, DID IT? I GAVE UP "PAINTING" SHORTLY THEREAFTER......CRESTFALLEN, THAT I WAS NOT 'THE NEXT BIG DEAL' AND ...
Read more