I published a poem last night, titled “Mannequin Planet,” which I then deleted early this morning. I’m sorry about that. I am not normally so fickle, but I didn’t like it. I just couldn’t bring myself to like it. And I decided it wasn’t of the quality I want to publish here. The truth is [...]
On Being a Novice
When I first started this blog in April 2017 I was not a poet. All of my activity on The Used Life was centered on posts like this one: those with a decidedly philosophical bent aimed at exploring the nuances of human creativity and the art of living. It wasn’t until later—sometime in early 2018—that [...]
Punk Run
: all about the god flesh a dark piece of matter and the impression of a soft liberation beyond the apparitions of shattered ceilings and paper planes (the cool wealth is rearranged) chiseled apparatus of our childhood dreams, the vogue of impossible endings it’s a secret authentic as bone marrow for the TV gods and [...]
Fool’s Gold (A Letter to Tim)
This post is composed of excerpts from an email I sent to my friend, Tim, last week. Otherwise known formally as “T. Blake,” Tim is the artist who created the visual dimension of Seven Road. We correspond regularly about our work. About our creative struggles and achievements and, more importantly, about the spiritual dimension of [...]
Banshee Blues
you can tell a woman by the way she deals with the devil small like a plastic hurricane the way she ups and rolls and jives with the punches soft penance rescued from the fists of destiny like mud on the water ambitious voodoo once in a blue moon daylight’s the only crime she never [...]
Satellite Rhythm
from here cue the sounds of nature : thunderstorm, wren, mid air, the peaceful rejection of rains on a river a lone, untrampled thought like a cloudburst on a sudden Tuesday dull sky : forest white-eyed halo, a field of angels with mud on their backs holy junkyard trinity (says the man from a homesick [...]
Closed Captions
This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 12/10/19 I like that it’s a cozy, gray morning. Listening to Fleetwood Mac’s Mirage, drinking coffee, and revisiting Rollo May’s The Courage to Create. An observation: the artists I admire most have all cultivated such powerful and unique personal styles. Poets, visual artists, musicians, too. [...]
