On Urges

When the urge to write slows to a trickle and the need to talk seems superfluous the funnel of listen fills with earwax summer’s vase stuck with dry flies and all the flowers fall drooped one awakes yet again and gets up aroused by the unsurpassable sun spilling coffee on the backs of its studs.

En Plein Air

An urban photographer idling along on foot found a plein air painter her portable kit easel, small canvas, box of luscious bright wet paints open and with one brush loose and light all the motion in her wrist at the edge of the street like frosting a cake her subject the poet scribbling on a…

Fit to be Tied

Some writers, it seems, hard to read, struggle to get a piece going unless they have something to talk about, but something to talk about doesn’t come from the same reservoir as having something to say. Some of our most interesting and arresting writers have written profoundly, enjoyably, articulately, about, by all appearances, nothing. Others…