Why I Am Not An Artist….

Well First Off I’m usually late….for everything….like this blog post….or perhaps like this blog post I’ve left everything in my car…

but besides all that thinking about this title alludes to that Frank O’hara Poem which then reminds me of one of my very first ever cover poems that I did for a class over at Stockton College…

Why I Am Not A Musician

After the Frank O’hara poem “I am not a painter, I am a poet”

I am not a musician, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a musician, but I am not. Well,
For instance, Mike Noordzy plays
Bass. I come by during practice
Sit and drink, make small talk
With the drummer during setup.
They begin to practice, continually
Trying to tune the bass and guitar.
“C’mon man get it right”
“You should have learned it by now”
“You’re to slow” “You’re to loud”
But me? I go home to a room
With a desk and poster of Kerouac
And no one to compare words with,
I think they sound good together
And my beat is alright alone. Days go by
And the band plays in a bar
The guitarist in tune with the bass
And the drummer slightly off.

So there’s that….

I began writing a little from the image sent…and writing a little is actually writing a lot compared to what I have been doing….but like I said it’s in my car…so from memory the few lines I did write:

Every animal has a brick wall under its skin

indestructible bleeding, even through floppy ears

The pictures mostly shaded grey but there is some color within it that may show itself when I expand this piece throughout the month….I’ve hung the picture up at my desk at work and will stare at it most of the day….

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