posted by Ivy @ 11:15 AM
posted by Ivy @ 3:14 PM
posted by Ivy @ 3:19 PM
'I’ve always been a big fan of music and poetry so this seemed the perfect way to combine those two great loves. I loved the idea of it being vaguely built around the model of a tribute night, but unlike other tribute shows all this original material comes out of it.'
posted by Ivy @ 9:49 AM
posted by Ivy @ 2:38 PM
posted by Ivy @ 11:30 AM
posted by Ivy @ 9:00 PM
posted by Ivy @ 12:54 PM
posted by Ivy @ 4:45 PM
posted by Ivy @ 2:59 PM
Poets aren’t always the best at titling. It isn’t something we learn formally. I’ve been making a study of titles and titling for a number of years now. I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of it.
posted by Ivy @ 7:36 PM
posted by Ivy @ 11:07 AM
I stopped thinking about fruit and juxtaposition in favor of sharp, silver, fractured, gleam, and allowed the real conversation between observer and observed to begin. I found the first door into the poem through the cheap green plastic stem; it opened directly into childhood’s first world and my older brother’s army men. The poem was off—with its exploration of violence and savagery, real, imaginary, sublimated; surface beauty, shine, and shimmer; piercing, torture, and the gloriousness of bling with its sexiness and dazzle.
posted by Ivy @ 6:18 PM