Is it weird that every poem I've read from poetic outlaws has resonated with my life? Describing both myself and relationships with others and how I feel almost perfectly.. It's almost scary and feels like a message
Kathleen Wood was a striking presence in San Francisco's Cafe Babar scene. I remember her well from the moment I arrived in 1986. She will be briefly acknowledged in the Cafe Babar chapter of my Julia Vinograd documentary. www.betweenspiritandstonethefilm.com
Lemon juice. Disappearing ink.Refreshment on a hot day. Brown rice goes down slow, white rice gets stuck In throat. Meditation is medication not a pill or snow snort that rots the brain. Mark’s in Passaic or Palisades. No matter, not important. Poetry is the king on the chess set -- check mate. Every word wages, sets a price, tugs, inhales a new breath whether fresh air or a toke that brings the movement full round with the sun rising to shine light on a dark night enlightened by your ink.
Great to hear a woman's voice and point of view. A fine poem. As Corso said to me, "there were no beat women. The life is too hard." He was wrong. There are anthologies of beat women writers. Is the outlaw life harder for women.? One friend said, well, they can alway hook and have a place to stay the night. Yeah, but they have to worry about rape.
Four years working a picture in disappearing ink. That is a good metaphor for pissing away time.
Beautiful. Although I must say I prefer all kings dead!
Including would-be kings.
Please, please include would-be kings.
Is it weird that every poem I've read from poetic outlaws has resonated with my life? Describing both myself and relationships with others and how I feel almost perfectly.. It's almost scary and feels like a message
There is a depth to synchronicity, for certain.
I had to laugh, wonderful. Are our perceptions not just illusions of what we want to see?
Kathleen Wood was a striking presence in San Francisco's Cafe Babar scene. I remember her well from the moment I arrived in 1986. She will be briefly acknowledged in the Cafe Babar chapter of my Julia Vinograd documentary. www.betweenspiritandstonethefilm.com
Let me count the many reasons I love this poem...
Just use invisible ink to tally!
Lemon juice. Disappearing ink.Refreshment on a hot day. Brown rice goes down slow, white rice gets stuck In throat. Meditation is medication not a pill or snow snort that rots the brain. Mark’s in Passaic or Palisades. No matter, not important. Poetry is the king on the chess set -- check mate. Every word wages, sets a price, tugs, inhales a new breath whether fresh air or a toke that brings the movement full round with the sun rising to shine light on a dark night enlightened by your ink.
‘Brown rice terrifies me’
This has more gravity for me than I’d like but, made me smile.
So filling I can't eat to much or I'll miss all the good stuff
Duly noted as I bought some within hours of reading this piece as an odd aversion therapy... maybe? I’ll make room for the good stuff.
incredible
Oooh! I feel that one. A threnody of time. Wasted? Or a gift that points the way? Thanks for sharing.
I can relate. Seeking enlightenment and men, the folly behind the illusion.
Great to hear a woman's voice and point of view. A fine poem. As Corso said to me, "there were no beat women. The life is too hard." He was wrong. There are anthologies of beat women writers. Is the outlaw life harder for women.? One friend said, well, they can alway hook and have a place to stay the night. Yeah, but they have to worry about rape.
Or rape of the soul
Ha! Never forget that on the way to enlightenment you lose ecerything....
I wonder, is she mad at Mark, or at herself, for spending 4 years drawing a picture in disappearing ink, which still seems to haunt her greatly?
Yeah. Where is Mark anyway?
Wow Kathleen this is Poetry is an ART. I hadn't thought about Sandy Bull in so very long. Thank you so very much.