About a hundred years ago, I did indeed run a poetry journal (and press) but have since lost touch with that world. One poem I published stands out from that time, and not because it's particularly great or awful, but because its final lines were a fitting summation to my career in that glamorous world. It's from an anthology of (then-) new British poetry...
From "Ghostie Men" by Tom Leonard
would thi prisoner
in thi bar
fur thi aforesaid crime
uv writn anuthir poem
awarded thi certificate of safety
by thi Scottish education department
fit tay be used in schools
havn no bad language
sex subversion or antireligion
I hereby sentence you
tay six months hard labour
doon nthi poetry section
uv yir local library
cootn thi fuckin metaphors
I guess one of the reasons I left that world -- rewarding as it was -- was that I was tired of cootn thi fuckin metaphors. That, and I was fired.
My artistic sensibilities run a little more mainstream these days, and tend towards the confluence of artistic expression and candy.
This is a lovely work titled "Gum Blonde LVII" by Canadian artist Jason Kronenwald.
From his gallery's website:
"Each Gum Blonde is 100% chewed Bubblegum on a plywood backing. No paint or dye is used. The colour is inherent to the gum–the mixing of colour takes place inside the mouth during chewing. Kronenwald has a dedicated team of chewers and prefers the texture of Trident. However, he does not chew gum himself unless he must."
I've always wanted to be on a dedicated team of chewers. Where do I send my resumé?
Some of the colors are too vibrant. What flavor could that green possibly be??
Might Hillary's campaign have turned out a little differently if she'd used this portrait a bit more during fundraising?
I think her aura is minty fresh. Or is it blueberry?
Say, that reminds me: don't forget to vote today.