3:AM in Lockdown 59: Jeff Wood
See No Evil, Speak No Evil, Breathe No Evil By Jeff Wood. One year ago this week I called my grandmother in Ohio to wish her a happy birthday. It was her 97th birthday and now one year more. We spoke to each other across an ocean. She had the news on mute […]
Poem Brut #91 – Portraits
A tryptic of scribbled non-letterings, a following in pace of pen between focus and trance; drawn-writing and written-drawing of towards, the brief catharsis.
They are portraits of someone moving out of one as a restless into of no one.
They are, just about. Not without meaning but meaning not to be read. Entirely serious and ridiculous.
They don’t say much.
In the 91st of the Poem Brut series, new poetry by David Spittle.