My poem “Letter to Throop from the Imperfect Stuckist Sky” is live at Book of Matches. Many thanks to editors Nicholas Christian and Kelly Allen for taking this poem, and to artist Ron Throop, whose work inspires and amazes me, and whose friendship and generosity I cherish. This painting hangs on the wall of our dining room, directly across from another Throop original. I only wish we had more walls!
O at the Edges 
Wonderful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Beth!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think these lines/words are ‘brilliant’ Robert …
“But really, at this stage all I can do
is keep plugging away, word by line, ache by poem,
submission to bruise, night after week after year after
decade. This is the point at which wax melts and feathers
flutter through their lonely plummets to somebody’s
murky Aegean nightmare. Or should I just embrace
my ineptitudes? Those long, ragged nights and unraveled
days? The emptied glasses?”
Congratulations Rob … time to celebrate with a glass of red …
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ivor! I was thinking about you just yesterday. It is indeed time to celebrate. But I have to wait until tomorrow evening, as I’m having my infusion tomorrow. A hearty red sounds good!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Then I will wait for you and celebrate with you tomorrow
LikeLiked by 1 person
Excellent! But perhaps you should celebrate today as well.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yeah… I’ll double celebrate for you 🍷🍷
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, about these imperfect poems of yours–the imperfect things are the most perfect, aren’t they? Another great one, Robert. Much love, B.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks, Bob. I specialize in imperfection!
LikeLiked by 1 person
https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=1964365836001&set=a.1200477179262
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hmm. The link was inactive. 😕
LikeLike
Bizarre. It worked for me. Try this pairing.
https://www.wikiart.org/en/vincent-van-gogh/a-pair-of-shoes-1886
LikeLiked by 1 person
Got it! Thank you.
LikeLike
Or this monstrosity:
https://www.turbosquid.com/3d-models/3dsmax-heart-shaped-coffee-cup/804748
LikeLiked by 1 person
versus this:
https://www.etsy.com/listing/557343107/rough-light-green-ash-glazed-cup-teabowl?ref=shop_review
LikeLiked by 1 person
This one is more my style.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
The first couple lines of that floored me when first I heard them.
LikeLiked by 2 people
…Not a whisper, nor a thought,
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Auden!
LikeLiked by 1 person
https://www.kingandmcgaw.com/prints/andy-warhol/diamond-dust-shoes-1980-lilac-blue-green-435296#gallery-1
LikeLiked by 1 person
Congratulations, Bob
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Derrick.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re on fire, Bob! Love the generous cup that is this poem.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks, Lynne. Poems are finding homes!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Congratulations!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Andrew!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome, Robert.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Congratulations on the publication of your poem, Bob!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Liz.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome, Bob.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I do like your letters. Those are the paintings we all want to make. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Kerfe. My letter poems are like the scarecrow poems, in that they generally emerge nearly whole, and require little revision. But they all concern matters near and dear to me, and are probably the result of pent up feelings and ideas suddenly released.
LikeLiked by 1 person
They do remind me of scarecrow. Connections.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The subconscious flowing through a stream of consciousness narrative…
LikeLiked by 1 person
I bet that imperfection pie goes well with cool whip
I love this tribute!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, P.S. Or creme fraiche, depending upon the flavor, imperfect or not. 😄
LikeLiked by 1 person
A triple joy at least. Your poem of persisting in making. The painting (which is rugged and vital) and then someone in the comments reminding me of an Auden poem. And then back to your poem reminding me of another Auden poem. I keep my head down plowing while your wax melts, but I think of you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ron Throop is the artist I want to be when I grow up. He’s persistent, generous, prolific and a nice guy. My wax is melting, but there are still a few feathers left, keeping me aloft, though soaring is difficult some days. 🪶🪶
LikeLiked by 1 person