V WE TAKE SOLACE IN THINGS OF THIS EARTH LEFT TO REMEMBER: OLD CLOTHES IN PLASTIC BAGS, A LOCK OF HAIR YOUR NAME, SCRATCHED IN THE PALM OF MY HAND. #sundaypoetry #loss #memory #january #jarvis #poetry #text #inspiration #process #writing

II BLACK ICE BLACK ICE TRANSPARENT THROUGH THE TREES LINE THE PATHWAY; THE ROAD TO THE LEFT IS LIT IN AMBER GLOW, IN ROWS OF FLOWERS. A SHRINE FORMS SOON TO FOLLOW: EACH PHOTOGRAPH IS OVERLAPPED AS IF THE LAST IS ALWAYS PRESENT. AS IF SIGHT IS WHAT IT MEANS TO SEE, TO REMEMBER. WHEN ALL OF HIM ARE ALWAYS PAST: THE DIRT ROAD, THE OLD COAT, THE SUNNY DAY A YOUNG BOY, STREAKED WITH MUD, LAUGHTER THROUGH THE TREES A YOUNG MAN WITH A CIGARETTE, ARM AROUND A YOUNGER BLACK-HAIRED BE

I IN HEAVEN’S CRADLE THERE IS A PHOTOGRAPH OF FOUR OF US SURROUNDING A TREE IN A PARK IN THE ALBERTA WINTER, FLAT LANDS, A PARK EMPTY OF PLAY WHITE AND WHITE AND GRAY, SEPARATED BY A ROW OF TREES, OF EARTH. WHEN BODIES CANNOT FAKE THE MOTIONS SEPARATED WHEN FACES CANNOT FACE ANOTHER WHEN WE ARE STRIPPED OF OURSELVES, LATER TO BECOME OURSELVES THE ENDING IS ONE WE CAN ALL LOOK UPON THE WAY BACK IS A PLACE WE DON’T REMEMBER. #text #inspiration #sundaypoetry #memory #writing #pr

I LIVE IN MY CONCRETE HOUSE A CONCRETE HOUSE HAS BUT ALL TO BEAR ELONGATED BY THOSE LINES BUT HEAVY WITH SITTING WEIGHT WE COULD POKE HOLES TO REVEAL STARRY SKIES IN THROUGH AN ATTIC OF NAILS, SHUTTING DOORS TO HEAVEN AS THE LIGHT DIMS AND BENDS PAST, WIRE, BARBED AND SEALED, TWISTED, HANDS CLASPED INTO POETRY IN DOORFRAMES, WINDOW PANES DUSTED WITH STARS A CIRCLE OF HANDS FILLED THE SEAMS WITH WHITE ROCKS AND SOUNDS OF WATER WHILE THE CELLAR BELOW SMELT OF DIRT, OF EARTH AND

THERE IS A GENERAL BELIEF THAT ARTISTS ARE BAD AT MARKETING. I BELIEVE ARTISTS, IF THEY CHOOSE TO, ARE GREAT AT MARKETING - THEY JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT IT. I'M BASING THIS ASSUMPTION ON MY OWN PREFERENCES. LET'S CALL THIS A SUBJECTIVE ANALYSIS OF ONE ARTIST'S DISLIKE OF MARKETING. EVERY BIT OF TIME I SPEND ON "MARKETING" (BRAND IDENTITY [OR PERSONAL IDENTITY IN THE CASE OF ARTISTS,] FIDDLING ON THE COMPUTER, CONNECTING WITH BUSINESS-Y INDIVIDUALS) IS TIME AWAY FROM MY ART, BUT