Nude descending staircase
Artist: Tito Titus
Tempura, India ink, chalk, and shellac on Kraft paper
"I am not attracted to brusqueness or sarcasm. But then, I don’t know anyone who is,"
"the morning sun’s
young blonde woman
(butch in back
femme in front)
drinks coffee neat
from a hand painted mug
the size of America
and scans the universe
in her palm."
"I am not attracted to brusqueness or sarcasm. But then, I don’t know anyone who is."
"Just remember that sometimes, the way you think about a person isn’t the way they actually are."
A deer!—nibbling on the few green things
that grow in my strawy meadow.
Mine, we say here: my studio, my meadow, my road.
It is as it is. We were born
to possess it all and more. There’s no longer
a chance to change direction. So have one. Have a meadow,
Try it on—there are black-eyed Susans in your hair.
Have a deer. Have a deer fly—(I had two
of them yesterday. My stained tablet backs me up).
Have a swallow. Try to hold it in your throat
as it goes down beyond the pines of your forest.
But first feel its presence, try to catch
its essence. Before the words intrude.
Some words a scourge
Some tones a death
There is no here there
Nor a sky that cares
No certain look
No corporate hook
Just the drip, drop
The sheer scream of it
It isn’t recommended
To try and find yourself
In holocaust documentaries
In the Blue album while driving
The stark arrow finds the mark
While you run
With your little nest under your arm
With your broken-ness
All you know is
That you continue to cry in
The jungle alone
With your ghetto eyes
Your impetuous pounding chest