I've been rather preoccupied lately. Much of what has taken up my time reently has been reading Modernist poetry and writing record reviews, while at the same time working on notes toward more poetry for workshop. That last item has been a bit more difficult to keep up on. The blog has therefore suffered.
I am beginning to feel the burn regarding writing new stuff as I have readings...public readings coming up and I don't really like the stuff I've done this past semester. That statement isn't entirely true, but I do want to have more that I feel halfway proud of.
One idea has to do with the picture to the left. This is a photograph of the Tulip Staircase, and a famous ghost photograph. I've been toying with using this as a theme or the famous peacock clock of the Hermitage. Not sure what to make of these or what they will turn into, but I'll work on it by Wednesday.
I've been rather solitary of late, perhaps especially because of the recent social gatherings that have been taking place during the week, which tend to mean that I need quality time on the weekends. Much to read, much to write. Busy Busy Busy. And Ezra Pound may well make me nuts:
For three years. diabolus in the scale,
He drank ambrosia,
All passes, ANANGKE prevails,
Came end, at last, to that Arcadia.
He had moved amid her phantasmagoria,
Amid her galaxies,
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Drifted . . . drifted precipitate,
Asking time to be rid of . . .
Of his bewilderment; to designate
His new found orchid.
--from Mauberley, part II