Friday, September 2, 2022

The Resultant Sky Is a Story of Wild Peach Liqueur Spilled on Dirty Pillows

  1. Almost broke open a new physical tablet, would've effectively aborted an unfinished late term tablet, to keep notes on discoveries and observations I make in primary color watercolor paint wash separation when all three mixed in different proportions of each other and in water (red always wins) because I have less academic scaffolding to call myself an artist than I do to call myself a poet and I've been assured by poets *with* enough academic scaffolding that while yes I have substantial academic scaffolding in poetry I don't have enough academic scaffolding in poetry so I didn't
  2. Painting makes me happy which means I'm sideways and sideways beats dark which is why I'm painting
  3. Waiting for fat color saturated washes to dry sucks, don't touch it Jeff Jeff taps here to not start new tablet
  4. Have I told you three times lately that we are being reprogrammed (and, this is new, conveyed to me by knees (old) and eyes (old) and hips (new), decommissioned), I speak only for me and fuck yeah is true
  5. I bark the new product, I sideways better spilling water

Also too, third slowest holiday weekend of the Blegsylvanian year, also too 


Tom Clark

Nothing but psychodrama
and disillusionment
in the canyons of the wealthy

Still there's a swell sunrise
up Gibralter Road a ways
where the red-yellow spectra
of the rising sun to the left (east)
swim up above down Ventura County
and all Montecitos'
hazed terrarial shadows erupt at once

The resultant sky is a story
of wild  peach liqueur
spilled on dirty pillows

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