The visitor said he too liked poetry, in particular that of Walt Whitman.
The borrowed book
Mind-blowing
Why would I ever want to contemplate my navel again when I can experience nausea by gazing down the abyss of my own spinal column?
Byronic potatoes
I dedicate my lunch today to Lord Byron. One look at the photo above, and you may think that is an insult - either to Lord Byron or to the carapau assado, a typical Portuguese dish, depending on your opinions regarding either or both. Before I explain, and since I am talking about Byron, I... Continue Reading →
Everything she knows
I taught her everything she knows. That's what the mother said on the sixteenth birthday of the eldest daughter. Not everything, said the daughter. But nobody heard her until years later when she found her true voice. © Allison Wright, 2013.
Res Poeticae
David Bowie used to do this. In an interview with British marvel, Michael Parkinson, he spoke about his creative process. David Bowie used to cut words out of the newspaper, or write arbitrary words on a piece of paper, and if my memory serves me correctly – and I believe it usually does! – he... Continue Reading →
That elusive pair of jeans 