Categories
Random Posts
- The Bird in the HandIf you can release what is your grasp letting those cramped fingers stretch out and loose, while strained muscles relax in a soft gasp after …
- What good is artWhat good is art if it does not instruct, or for our “better angels” cast new wings beyond utilitarian design, reminding us that beauty without …
- Highway BluesI hear the highway calling, but I will not catch a ride; Where I’m bound and where roads lead never seem to coincide. For interstates …
- The Bird in the Hand
Recent Comments
- Irene on Some ancient affirmations
- Rekha on No More Sad Weepings of Regret
- Novena on Wake Up: sonetto rispetto
- John on On the Veranda: serenade
Subscribe
Join 298 other subscribersMeta
Tag Archives: J Alfred Prufrock
Kind of Blown (Miles Davis is Past Tense Now)
Esse Quam Videri : The siren’s song bleeds forth through tenement crags: the plaintive wail of mad dog penguined Perseus, hunting down in ancient rites street Circe and her rabid whores. Along this path, this street of more than visions … Continue reading
Posted in Poems
Tagged Berklee, Howl, J Alfred Prufrock, jazz, Miles Davis, The Wasteland, TS Eliot
Leave a comment