ArtMouse

@artmouse.bsky.social

410 Followers 705 Following

Artist, Reader, Biker (Bicycle), Retired Lawyer, Minnesotan By Choice, He/Him

Title: Missed Connections You, at an airport kiosk, Your abyssian black ink eyes, Blown up photo selling your book, Me, a crumpled butt. You know, (I know you know I know you don’t know) We later met face to face in person? “What are you working on?” “An essay for the New York Review of Books.” Where do we go from here, you and me? Nowhere, ever, I’m afraid. *** I don’t remember What saved me from this awkward- ness. Something always does. Look, I know I am never saved, But there is always always does.
Title: NEST Poem: I put, “Containers contain contents,” in writing. Trinket boxed in tin box, ([[[Matryoshka/matryoshka/matryoshka…/matryoshka/matryoshka.]]]) The box turtles’ runic tunics, their plastrons, are hinged. Turtles all the way in. Trojan turtles containing themselves. All the same, continuously incontinent incorrigible continents Frame box hoarders broken borders breached. But, to be sure, to be held, just to be held, to be contained, Swaddled, swathed, wrapped, insular, Shrouded in secreted sea, We float in, on, after, always, tears, Moses’ fetid basket wicker woven.
What/want to hear/expect to hear/heard/read/reared/What/was said/unsaid/does silence/say
Blue ink and pencil abstract drawing with glass, reflection, water color
Aspiring to Know Nothing is the poem's title. The poem: Artists alone go to the river's edge at night where untold have died/They sniff, sip, chug, bathe, tell, get carried away./ Their wavelets and residue are celebrated/ by others also swept, by those who can't go but know the way, and/ by those who know nothing./Artists alone go to the river's edge at night.