ashellessmind

This journal is written for a specific friend, who helped me remember an old Xanax trip and a poem I wrote about it: The Grown Bulb All summer we were an inseparable Jill and J∅ck and I made my girlfriend   grimace when I mentioned how much like that hill we had together grown. Yet you were an old man scattering s∅∅d—benching on my palm, reading an out-of-print newspaper. So on my last Xanax trip, I ripped you clean from me until a fountain formed in your abs∅nce. I cut you to the quick; I cringed; I painted "F∅CK" with blood on the bathroom mirror. Did you return

Every time I begin to think I am done with writing forever, I write another poem. When I was thirteen and started writing poetry, I don't think I had the concept that I would be doing it for ten years, but I have. What about you?

Not mine. Hopefully this is helpful for someone. I got this from an old news article by Drunken Splice. HELPFUL HINTS Notes on Writing Poetry JON ANDERSON First  published by BLUE MOON PRESS, Tucson, Arizona INTRODUCTION In 1968, when I first started teaching the writing of poetry, attendant with all the fervor of passing on whatever I'd discovered in my own writing as a young poet, I set about jotting down some of the things I'd learned, discovered, or surmised. These had no order of importance, were largely subjective (the "you" I addressed was, most often, myself), and often seemed antithetical to each other. Over the years I've off