Kandinsky “Composition IV” -What is true?
I hear colour, too understand how sight and sound confound the senses when I see music and feel sculptures as you hear compositions abstracted not representing anything other than what pleases you as you fall to your knees and weep to see your own painting on its side. I would have guided you to John Lackey but he wasn’t even born before you died and I cringe to remember commenting on background music in Lackey’s film as whiny, not knowing it was his own and take heart in his gracious assurance that anonymity breeds honest criticism I know that to be true, as well. Phish scorned as pissing in audience’s ears I can’t applaud enough when Trey forgets lines much like Jerry Garcia often stumbled and we loved him even more for it, that is true. But I wonder what mantra to chant to write a sonnet and what wounds behind closed doors to muffle so that I can even write one good line before I’m done. B. Elizabeth Beck This poem is from B. Elizabeth Beck's manuscript, Painted Daydreams. The writer, artist and teacher is the author of two poetry books, and founder of central Kentucky's Teen Howl Poetry Series. She lives in Lexington, Kentucky.
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November 2024
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