Mommy Dearest

Carol didn't want to be my mother.
Those were her words, I heard them
quite often in fact. I believed her.
The scowl on her face added sincerity.

Carol bids me to turn the entry light off on our way out.
I had it covered. I opened the car door for her first than
seated myself in the drivers seat, we pulled away.

I turned the radio station to NPR. Are we listening to that?
The question mark was missing from her voice. I changed
the dial as I turned onto Elm street. You were going through town? I smiled, oh the expressway would be best I guess. Why would I need a mother?

Sullivan

Well Kasey caught my attention this morning. Pointed me to Chris Sullivan's Slight. It's worth the trip over to see what it's all about.

This Woman Needs Help!

I just read a wonderfully insane poem and am convinced that the writer needs help. And I hope she gets it!

The help she needs is the fulfillment of her desire to get into the MFA program at the University of Houston. I adore her poem titled This is Not the First Time You can get both the poem and her blog about the style in which she aims her writing at the link.

Katey... I wish you every success in achieving your aspiration.

11.22

arthur, my arthur,
why and by whom?
your table split asunder in one afternoon
your blood splattered upon your queen
did so clash with pink.
grown men like babies bewailed;
moaning and weeping spread
beyond the grassy knoll
a tear touched my cheek
and froze in time

Thursday - This and That

My thanks to Michaela Cooper for sharing the link to Samizdata.net which has a wonderful Lexicon of blog related words you likely have never heard of. I found looking at some of the terms very entertaining.

Silent Lucidity has moved sites. I've updated the link in the sidebar too.

Annie Sexton tribute this Sunday in Boston.

Exposing Injustice Through Poetry -- New poetry compilation seeks to highlight brutality of society

and the saddest, but hopeful thing of all...

Aimee's - What the Cabbies Said to Me Is so not bad... Unless perhaps you are using my teenage daughter's vernacular.

Bad Art

When I am finishing a picture I hold some God-made object up to it-a rock, a flower, the branch of a tree or my hand-as a kind of final test. If the painting stands up beside a thing man cannot make, the painting is authentic. If there's a clash between the two, it is bad art. -- Marc Chagall


His work was that curious mixture of bad painting and good intentions that always entitles a man to be called a representative British artist. -- Oscar Wild