It's a sick life being poet...he writes to give himself health...
*This my own sculpture. I call Bird of God. 12"x3", clay so long as he writes. When he lays down his pen or shuts off his typewriter he falls ill again. He finds himself in the world, bare, expect that he hears the poetry of gunfire and cries of revenge, worse yet, of murder. It is poetry he could... Sign in to see full entry.