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Violin: A Love Poem to the City of Oranges
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Bohemian nights in Valencia where the gypsies shred violins into the coming dark “Rhythmic swells reverberate trough my lungs. The back streets of Valencia. Back street Europe. Romani enclaves and gypsy parts of town. We’ll sit here in the Plaça de la Virgen with our stiff sangria, smartly bashful in red-faced delerium. For it is Spring…
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from the archives of 2014: “With only enough time to unpack from our trip to Portland Jaclyn suggests we rent a jalopy and drive our tired souls to North Carolina for the High Point Furniture Market.”
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“The Dying of Baal,” A Poem by Helen Wing “…Oh Syria! With the god of Storm and Dew now thunder-mute in Homs, Aleppo, Damascus and Palmyra… ”
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“It’s like walking through a dream: where everything glows a soft infusion of yellow-gold and the lightness of being is simply enough.” -excerpt from an old interview on the emotions, sensations of traveling North Africa (Image. Morocco)
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by Richard Risemberg There are many ways to become a good writer, but one of the best ways to become a great one–besides giving yourself a thorough grounding in the mechanics of language–is to get over yourself. The fact of the matter is that, even though you’re writing the book, the book is not […] via…
Nicholas Andriani Rankin 