ALL THOSE
WEDGEWOOD FACES
Elegantly proportioned and as if frozen in
blue time - all those stately poses and courtly
miens. It wears me out in toto. Pottery and clay,
the sensated combination of fire and glaze. Ideas
like this only come down from a Heaven once.
-
Percy Bysshe Shelly? John Keats? Grecian urns?
All that jumbled marmalade of contingent words and
superior and poetic clauses : yes, you'd think that -
between that and marble - there's enough range to
drive any reader crazy and any school kid dense.
-
I have my butterfly net instead, and with it I
capture the air of those around me breathing -
their oaths and curses, fucks and rages, things
and dealings, down and dirty or clean and bright.
My mix, I guarantee, will keep you up at night.
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