Posts tagged ‘Stagnation’

November 15, 2018

Share the Selfishness

Available elsewhere, and from Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Hate-Poems-John-Tottenham/dp/1878923293/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1542304597&sr=8-1&keywords=the+hate+poems&dpID=41FfGSl2GOL&preST=_SY291_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_&dpSrc=srch

“In elegantly-wrought laments of self-loathing and mean-spirited love poems, the author finds that he has more to say on already exhausted subjects, and gives voice to the kind of thoughts most people prefer not to express but will nevertheless automatically relate to and be entertained by. Tottenham has staked out a singular terrain where egotism and self-loathing meet, where futility merges with urgency, and beauty is created out of bitterness. If nothing else, he furnishes proof that a poet maudit can still, if not thrive, at least survive, alive and unwell, in this benighted age.”
from the introduction, by Louis Pipe

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October 24, 2018

Emptyscapes: Art Show

Lora Schlesinger Gallery
Bergamot Station, B5b: 2525 S.Michigan Ave, Santa Monica CA 90404

November 3 – December 15  2018
Opening reception: Nov 3rd 4-6pm

 

 

May 2, 2016

Inspired By True Events

Tortured

I waited a long time
to become a failure.
It took longer than I expected.
Was it worth the wait?
Frankly, no.
It was all in the anticipation.
But it was nice to have something
to look forward to.

September 20, 2014

A Time Less Quality

Time Less
I waited a long time
to be haunted
by what wasn’t wanted.
One experiences a different kind of nostalgia
when one doesn’t ‘change’.
Yet the question is still the same:
how best to squander
the rapidly diminishing time that remains.

March 23, 2014

CVI

Past Prime

Contact with anybody
who has produced work of quality
fills me with an air of thwarted yearning empathy,
an implausible sense of fraternity,
a melancholy sting.  Regret and resentment
gnawing at me, eating me alive.
This is what you reap
when you haven’t sown anything.

November 7, 2013

Time Moves, But Not I

Entropy

I am no stranger to waste, to bouts of tranquilizing
Self-abuse: drifting off with wilting rod in flowering fist.
Thoughts sliding like water across a pane of glass
And over the edge
Of the sofa and elsewhere. And tension detours
To parts unknown, on days that pass unknown;
Held together by dust,
By boredom and all its  blossom.

August 21, 2013

X

Unseizable
Out of  all the things
I could have done on this day,
that might have been fun, edifying
or charitable, I have chosen instead
to sink somewhere in flustered haze.
As if anything might be salvaged
from these uselessly plumbed depths.

April 8, 2013

The Arrival

The Silence Preceding

For years on end I have been sitting here,
impatiently awaiting potency: some explosive revelatory surge
that will carry me away and permit no looking back.
But this moment of deliverance has not arrived,
and I have done nothing to hasten it.
Perhaps it doesn’t matter.
Perhaps I wasn’t meant to do anything.
In which case, I have succeeded admirably.

November 28, 2012

Pointless Revelation

I used to be lost.

Now I’m just stuck.

November 21, 2012

Living Too Late

It is pointless to have reached this point:
this summit of finely seasoned staleness.
The callow negativism of youth matured to a dubious vintage,
with a voluptuous bouquet of regret
and a lingering aftertaste of self-disgust.