paper white irish skin

artists are by their very nature
self destructive –
self is lost in art
and life in art
(self is found in art)

pen stab wound on arm
(the writer's tool of the trade)
paper white irish skin punctured
and blood seeps
from perfectly round wound

inhale;
exhale

inhaling coffee at rapid speeds

monk sits atop
isolated mountain
amongst solitary rocks
and lonely leafless trees:
zen garden

there is sense in insanity
and sanity in senselessness
(i found moderation in excessiveness)

12/30/14



Poetry by Thomas Perdue The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 942 times
Written on 2014-12-31 at 18:39

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
I like the writing, but I cannot fathom the first line, it seems contrary to everything I know and feel about art, creating art. The struggle of bringing forth a poem, or any art form, is as healing as anything I can imagine. I guess I don't buy into the trope of the self-destructive artist, the need to feel pain to create, and I can't imagine what is "lost." Somehow I feel you don't buy it, either.
2015-01-05



Interesting oxymoron that even moderation can be excessive. Sometimes, it seems, extravagance fits the bill. Pull out all stops.
2015-01-01