Tag Archives: 1950s

Jackson Pollock

Out of silence, and lidded smolder, arose a localized storm. You could say it was a balletic squall forecasting its own tyrant reign and fall, a fate designed to galvanize and then blackout not so gently into that goodnight exit … Continue reading

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Sylvia Plath

To be a mother, and to double as a dark sorceress, a cleaver of dried bones, could not have been easy. Especially in the 1950s. They burned witches then, as well as reds and blacks and faggots, and other things … Continue reading

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Jackson Pollock

  Ballet in a storm, one man’s kinetic forecast– You will know my name.

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Deluge

It is both pleasure, and an epitaph to pleasure, at the same time. When the phenomena occurs and the colors run and slash and slit down upon me in ravels of deluge. Spring-green, shell-pink, sky-blue, bled-red, egg-heaven, grief-yellow. I, a … Continue reading

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Music

Sometimes, when alone, and faced with the prospect of music as a savior, the choice between which record to play means all the difference in the world in getting through a day in a life ordered to meet someone else’s … Continue reading

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