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January 8, 2012 / mollywillows

|||||||||||||||||||| so the year is now 2012


“twenty twelve”. it has this ring of poetry to it– this fleeting freefloating romantic apocalyptic let’s fuck it all and rock out like gurus ring to it. it makes me want to resurrect the hidden poetry in everyday presence. #1 poet of glory, Octavio Paz, once wrote famously that poetry is “the apple of fire on the tree of syntax”, and hey — solar flares licking from the sun towards the earth are closer than ever before in 2012. what does this all mean? it means the poem i’m about to share with you that was published in paris-based her royal majesty (three years past) has eeeeverything to do with my rambling preamble…: read poetry. my (once) published poetry?



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