standing still amidst revolution
-I’m sick of metaphors, my own. The whole allegorical world in my head seems filled with technique and contrivance, an attempt at bridging the chasm between myself and others. In this effort I feel like Froggy waving frantically for Saturn’s attention, stripping down stark nude that he might be noticed by his creator, that he maybe validated-in some sense-for his humanity or simply as creation. Yet, even as I lay there, my skin turning a tomato red under the sun’s glare, the technique, the contrived language, crumbles under the glare of nothing more than that burning star which lights the […]