An Eclectic Journal of the Arts
Spinozablue welcomes new poetry from Glen Armstrong, and an essay about Bloomsday by Sylvie Jane Lewis. Writers tend to write about things they know. People they know. Places they’ve seen, or imagined, or dreamed up. There’s a “knowing” of sorts in the imagined as well. Typically, however (with exceptions), they don’t invent characters based on […]
“Whatever happened to . . . ?” That’s a question we sometimes ask about an artist who seemingly disappears. Of course, if they haven’t actually left this earth, they haven’t really disappeared at all. They’ve just chosen another path, another way to spend the remainder of their days on this planet we call home. They’ve […]
I go to my spot. It’s my spot though it’s everyone’s. It’s everyone’s though it’s really just mine. Because I say so. Because I believe the rocks, the trees, the birds, the clouds all speak for me. They are my eyes and ears and voice. Voices. Plural times plural. So close to infinity, but not […]
Nick Drake’s Day is Done The good die young. A cliche, a myth, a bromide, but sometimes all too true. Nick Drake died of an overdose of amitriptyline at the age of 27 in 1974. He left us great music, deeply felt. Rich in melancholy, nostalgia, autumns and rain, Drake sang of the pain of […]
A couple of recent movies got me to think again about Rimbaud and his effects. Movies have a funny way of doing that to me. They often make me think about writers, artists, and musicians, even if the movie isn’t really about them. Oblique references stimulate a new ordering, a new attempt to find links, […]
It looks like we should be picking up steam in early April, with new poetry, essays and fiction. To celebrate Barbara Guest’s forth-coming Collected Poetry, I will be posting some essays about her work and life. A remarkable poet, she deserves a much wider readership and far more recognition. Current books of note: Reading Carmen […]