Category: Poetry


Surrealist Discoveries

You know what I stumbled upon today? Surrealism Poetry.    Can you imagine my excitement? My suddenly, whole-body oscillations? Surrealism plus poetry? That’s what you get when you just start googling nouns in which you’ve got an interest. Surrealism itself sparks from André Breton’s first Le Manifeste du Surréalisme in 1924; he presents a two-fold definition of surrealism: SURREALISM, noun, masc., Pure psychic automatism by which … Read More Surrealist Discoveries

Thoughts from the Underground

Sometimes it is that nothing I own works as if the tight throat lodging in the path of my breathing has conspired against me to unleash suffering over all my endeavors. In these sorts of times my breathing can’t reach and my arms become frail and I feel like I’m swallowing but silently and without use. Sometimes this feeling of unrelenting pointlessness and deeply … Read More Thoughts from the Underground

Let’s Be Soldiers

Perhaps Sunday will be a day of poetry. It certainly is a fine day to curl up in the aesthetic recesses of one’s own mind, jittery from intake of coffee and cozy from an outfit made of sweaters.   Who might I be, If we were playing soldiers? Well, let me tell you; I’d be the one with rosy cheeks, An affinity for bubblegum … Read More Let’s Be Soldiers


An Evening with George Saunders

– Let me tell you about this aesthetic. This vast unflinching cavern of buttoned-up tweedly tailored minute men of an intellectual battleground, ransoming the world—the eternal—the everlasting– for a solitary brush with a Greatness unpromised. Let me leave my generation, my jaw is tight and bursting with questions too full and too weighty to leave room for yawns. What are we if we do … Read More An Evening with George Saunders


Let Me Let You Love Ginsberg Like I Do

“Howl” written by Allen Ginsberg is the greatest poem ever written. Objectively speaking. I wrapped myself in The Essential Ginsberg for a continual bout in wordsmithing; as noir jazz, dusty lamplight and frosted mugs of matcha tea will do to you on a cool starry Saturday. “Howl” is my favorite poem of his, and it never ever fails to tickle the sidekick inside of my viscera who wants … Read More Let Me Let You Love Ginsberg Like I Do