I gave up on new poetry myself thirty years ago, when most of it began to read like coded messages passing between lonely aliens on a hostile world.
Tags: poetry, Russell Baker
sounds kind of romantic. anyway, the humans can come befriend the lonely aliens anytime they want.
or something meaner, like: fuck this guy, what the fuck does he know, fuck.
i thought we *were* all lonely aliens in a hostile world. And then I met this guy.
Yeah. That quote basically succeeds in making poets sound all badass as fuck.
I give up every fucking day on people who gave up on “new poetry”, when all they want from everything is confirmation that their insecurities are not perfectly rational.
I just noticed the frog in that picture.
who’s the catcher who’s the pitcher?
the frog’s the pitcher i think
I agree with above. Pretty much the problem with any writer discussing writing.
1. small stakes
2. writer basically saying the writing is different than they themselves write.
Look upon my works, Ye Mighty.
Is the kid pissing on the frog or is the frog spitting on the kid’s dick?
That’s a philosophical question…
That quote is my favorite Radiohead song.
did the kid piss out a kidney-frog or did the frog puke up a kid?
The kid’s arm is distinctly WHOOO!SPRING BREAK!ish, so you may be getting somewhere with your pissing a kidney-frog theory.