A blog. Finally.
Even the name sounds gross - a hybrid between German and something coughed up during a bad cold.
oh, oh, you might say while grabbing a tissue, I have the blogs again, oy
On to other things. While trolling popular e-lit sites, a notice a high content of stream-lined, transcendent, stream of consciousness poetry/prose. Phenomenal. Really? One wonders if these pieces are accepted because the cover letter might have had the words M.F.A or Ph.D.
Is it okay to have a fake doctorate? An MFA from the School of Hard Knocks? I really wonder if someone established securely in the literary world would get the same acceptances as say, Sally Smith from South Dakota if their material were the same. Someone famous do this.
Now I lay me down to the alter of stream of consciousness bullshit phenomenon:
for years I ate paper off the floor
in order to impress the boys
I would sweep up the dirt with words
and watch the teachers walk by
holding hands with their favorites
run into a corner and stuff my belly
tight with false pregnancy hoping
that I would give birth to bright faces
caught in surprise at my greatness
oh, oh, these faces would say, you are
all I’ve been waiting for, let us walk the