Why I Am Not A Painter
A l l C o n t e n t ©2005-2021 E m i l i e H a n s o n e-mail
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Minneapolis, MN links & archives
a pile of mostly raw and probably bad poetry
on the internet
in the hopes of creating something better
This blog is not CLEAN and is not meant to be.
Useful critique appreciated, i.e. specific comments and suggestions.
You need not identify yourself unless you want to;
comments will be judged on value, not the source. (Although knowing the source can be useful.)
Unsupported heckling OR praise are not appreciated.
Also, I vaguely apologize if you're my friend and you see yourself or others we know here.
I am aware that that can be unsettling
but that's the risk you run being friends with a writer. Also,
maybe you're just being paranoid. Also,
there is never a clear picture of reality
jean one
you see Scott and
the outer signs
of madness, the consumption
of worlds, yet
in these pictures
of outer
space, there is
some dark struggle
no one is narrating. the challenge
has always been on the page, how to put it
down: these thoughts (not
the ones i'm reading)
are the real torment. he sees
the outer effect, macro molecular change
at the surface of my body, but what
shifts in the larger space! when i don't
see his eyes, they still express
and move
and if i destroy the sun,
i'll know in the aftermath
each life lost is my life again
Labels: marvel
Archives
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Links
adam.
elimae.
pastsimple.
