June 25, 2019
This art tickle is not entirely about John Waters…
LIFE AFTER ART

Posted in John Waters, Life After Art |
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February 12, 2019

Beauty depresses me,
knowing that it’s temporary.
Positivity requires too much energy.
And even if I were happy,
I wouldn’t admit it,
for that would be an insult
to those who are not,
and those who pretend to be.
Posted in Hate Poems, Magnanimous Misanthropy, Negative Affirmations |
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December 30, 2018
One more week. Emptyscapes Extended until 1/5/19.
Lora Schlesinger Gallery, Bergamot Station, 2525 Michigan Ave. B5b, Santa Monica CA 90404

Posted in Emptyscapes, Negative Affirmations, Seductive Vacuity, Shameless self-promotion |
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May 28, 2016

I recognize the ideal,
of what I’m ideally working towards,
but I’m incapable of realizing it.
So why not satisfy myself
with what I imagine
I’m capable of doing
rather than actually doing it?
That seems like a reasonable solution.
But isn’t that what I’ve been doing all along:
basking instead of striving;
recognizing what I’m capable of
and settling for less?
Which is actually a long process
of resigning oneself to failure:
basking in the glory of potential
and potential glory,
until potential is dead.
Posted in Negative Affirmations, Poems of regret and Resentment |
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February 7, 2014

At this point it would be impossible
to make up for all the lost time.
I might as well try to settle
for a serviceable desperation,
and strive, at least, for resignation:
the long hard process of resigning myself
to the choices I made
by not making a choice.
Posted in Poems of regret and Resentment |
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May 29, 2013
In the latest issue of Gesture magazine:

How dark and wide and wet it was:
pungent in the morning, with steam rising from it.
I held my nose over it, breathed in deeply
and gagged.
A hole, deeper than my love,
awaited you. A shallow hole,
nonetheless.
http://www.thegorillapress.com/gesture
Posted in Poems of regret and Resentment |
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February 7, 2012

A good humor man nurtures a roadside weed
With water from a Dixie Cup;
Street lights change superfluously in muggy stillness;
In a world of blinding blandness
A poisonous vacancy becomes beautiful.
Posted in Hard & Alone, Low |
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December 11, 2011
I realize now that nothing will ever strike me
with the force of revelation.
And that in itself is a revelation.
It’s not much of one,
but it will have to do.

Posted in Pointless Revelations |
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