09 Thursday Jun 2016
Posted in #Prose Poems/#Short Fiction, POETRY, VISUALS
by phil gennuso
Those early days, Olinville Avenue, junk man, street car veggies pouring out of small trucks, little kids up and down the streets, girls with pigtails, boys, scraped knees. At night the steam poured out across the flat, across the house, the street, the sky and carried me far away to the sunflower moon, shining down with mystery and benevolence and wisdom and promise.
27 Wednesday Apr 2016
Posted in #Prose Poems/#Short Fiction, VISUALS
by phil gennuso, click for full size
Shining masks, a different, difficult history, today is song, tomorrow is sorrow. Wanderer, reckless, celebrant, family, you peer behind your sculpted mask with a smile, a toast, a tear.
24 Sunday Apr 2016
Posted in #Prose Poems/#Short Fiction, POETRY, VISUALS
by phil gennuso, click for full size
So I am dreaming, I am in a Gauguin painting, talking to this beautiful girl, probably around 21, maybe 30 or so, no older. She is not fragile, nor is she athletic, just natural, her face, her skin, her expression, her wonder; standing gently, against this dark, starless sky, she still shines, as if from some inner light.
04 Tuesday Mar 2014
Posted in #Prose Poems/#Short Fiction
Tags
Entropy:
If you put a cup of hot coffee on your table in the morning, and let it sit there, it will get cooler, over time.
If you put a cup of cold coffee on your table in the morning, and let it sit there, it will not get warmer, over time.
Such is what bounds our world, the ebb and flow of energy, for all things, living and non-living, dead or alive.
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Can you imagine a universe where one or the other, or both are reversed?
Is there such a mathematics?
Is there such a poetry?
And if so, who would open that door first, the poet or the mathematician?
