"Art, like morality, consists of drawing the line somewhere."
--G.K. Chesterton
"The man's body is sacred and the woman's body is sacred.../Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just as much as you."
--Walt Whitman
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According to the Buddha, right speech is a statement that is timely, true, kind, helpful (connected to liberation), and spoken with a mind of good-will. Let us all try to observe this precept.
My prison pen pal "Conway" returns with new poems that move deeper into surreal territory. I like how he's moved away from his reliance on Gothic-horror imagery to more subtle and original metaphors. I sent him poems by John Milton, Carl Phillips and Ariana Reines this month, so look for even stranger poems in the weeks ahead.
We're currently seeking a publisher for a chapbook of his work. If you have a lead, please comment below. Meanwhile, some selections:
City Limits
Exploring her every nook & cranny: This neon-lit City of Angels carefully, I pried open a glass eyed time-piece sand slithering arteries of Grit became avenues of dead stars mixed among flotsam and jetsam once again
A globe-lit recalcitrant flame Lamp-light of our dark-voided space sucked into a whirlpool siphoned through a pocket-knife sliced Garden hose Fuel, for a stolen car's joyride So lonely for comfort; Yet so alive...
********
Streets
Delay this intrepid LIFE (left behind) hand-washed away, by years of silent cheers watch as sunsets-strip away the pain while your splendor is too keen to withdraw abstain or restrain, streets of my youth...
The streets I grew-up on, may flee But, they will never leave me I know those black veins, pumping red trees pulsing green congested traffic trailing lights through the foothills...
They freely flow, like: A mother's breast request of issue hushed producing life, as the sore cries out for more Time, to ingest floppy kisses, of silt & smog Tastes that clog this breast with memory...
"too brilliant" in the scheme of things; So I thought! Yet, looking back now, it seems I'd caught a hint or glimpse, of troubles to astonish as shocking as this may sound I chose to stick around; I could have Run...
4/2/2011 2:14 PM
Patricia Henry wrote:
Knowing my brother as I do,he has changed so much since he went to prison.We don't realize what we would lose when we choose the wrong way in life. Reply to this
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