Showing posts with label head. Show all posts
Showing posts with label head. Show all posts
7.02.2026
7.15.2024
i think therefore iamb
He was beginning to think in iambs or else he was starting to hear his pulse inside his head.
10.03.2023
1.09.2023
4.22.2021
write clumsily
A saving grace and a disturbing handicap it is to speak from the top of your head, putting all trust in yourself as a truthsayer. I write from the top of my head and to write so means to write honestly, but it almost means to write clumsily. No poet likes to be clumsy. But I decided to heck with it, as long as it allows me to speak the truth.
—Gregory Corso, “Some of My Beginning … And What I Feel Right Now,” Exiled Angel: A Study of the Work of Gregory Corso, ed. Gregory Stephenson (London: Hearing Eye, 1989), 87.
—Gregory Corso, “Some of My Beginning … And What I Feel Right Now,” Exiled Angel: A Study of the Work of Gregory Corso, ed. Gregory Stephenson (London: Hearing Eye, 1989), 87.
Labels:
clumsy,
first thought,
gregory corso,
handicap,
head,
top,
truth
12.01.2018
bad piano
The poet often feels like some poor composer who has bought a beaten piano from a closed bar. A few of the keys stick and a couple when struck make no sound at all. For those he must hear the sound in his head.
6.10.2018
head on a block
The reader was not tall. The podium was high, wooden and wide. A little head bouncing atop a butcher block was what the audience saw.
Labels:
butcher block,
head,
height,
podium,
poetry reading
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)