Wednesday, December 06, 2017

Muse Sleeping

Why Not to Write Poems

“I’m a poet” makes for awkward social introductions.
No one reads poetry anymore. It’s old-fashioned,
irrelevant, and adolescent. 

You don’t see the universe in the heart of a lily.
It just spits orange pollen all over your black turtleneck
and makes you sneeze. 

Grammar is confusing. Poems are unnecessary.
They make nothing happen.* They don’t even 
rhyme anymore.

You are insufficiently weird. Only goth teens, 
hippies, queers, suicidal women, and old people 
write poems. 

Poets have to read poems. You read a poem once. 
You hated it. The only famous poets are dead poets. 
There are no rich poets. 

You have no talent. You’re the wrong ethnicity. 
You don’t know enough big words. You’ve got no 
rhythm. And WTF are “line breaks”?

You’ve read that it takes years of study and practice 
to write even one good poem. The only easy-to-write 
poems are list poems. And they’re boring.
(By Sharon Brogan written on VerseWrights)
Art by Henry Avignon, Buffalo, NY

Saturday, November 18, 2017

What's Next . . .

Direction to me. 

It seems the blogs may be nearly on the way out . Too easy with FB to comment a quick retort or post a photo of your last meal than to really take some time, maybe research, and present a thoughtful presentation on the blog. 
Leaving my blog,  I fear loss of  my ability to stay with a project (may be aging but  not to the extent that I experience it) since attending other distractions -- FB, etc.  I will start something like repairing a lawn mower or sweeping up this lady bug infestation, and quit partway through vowing to return later.  Things get eventually done but only through attrition. I seem to have no staying power with a project, even reading.      Time for a change . . . .

  And  I see that poetry is still alive and well on the blogs:

Wednesday, August 09, 2017


It is always hard to know which orientation of the canvas was intended by the artist.

 Guess it may be all about how many times you can pass by it hanging in your abode without tiring of it.

I find more interest and possibility in the more abstract of art; seems I can see more in it each time.

  I once blogged the question "what is art" :   Found it!

Thursday, December 08, 2016

Old Metal Stuff

Girl and I on 1939 tractor which a neighbor and I restored from rusty condition on one of the wheels, and painted. Another close neighbor died and gave it to me 15 years ago.

One had to rotate the flywheel by hand there on the left to get the 2 cylinder to start.  It usually popped right off since there are petcock reliefs on the cylinders to allow  reduced pressure in the cylinders whilst starting.

We don't farm, so don't know what to do with it except maybe haul firewood, pull a dead tree, or drag someone out of a muddy/ snowy road.