Hello . . . this is Joe. Welcome to A Daily Drabble. Please add 100 words of prose or poetry as a comment on any date you want and in any order you want. Please reply on the drabbles you like. I'll moderate the comments at night, and they'll appear the next day. This is for everyone!
I want to visit where this photo depicts. But not sober. Sans Ecstasy, I don’t see sufficient point. I want the strobing colors all tactile too. The people here look young—like adult versions of middle-schoolers. I guess this makes perfection of sense: art students, by definition, should never look mature. They need a long time to get old—goodly interval in which they can fail and fail and fail until some young punk decides to make them a name. Eminem, circa 1999, could not stop repeating the most common of copulas. Under my umbrella, elocution crackles: therefore, torpor charters.
ReplyDeleteStep inside, don’t hide, and feel the flow of this multichromatic show. Sit or stand where you will, get your fill—oh capitalist fantastic, what’s the cover, brother, for an art enthusiastic? Dollar signs buy artsy rhymes and meaningful political statements. Erudite consumer, a baby—not a boomer, a drain of vitreous humor might reveal a benign tumor. There once was a dude from Las Vegas, related to the Nicaraguan Ortegas, who wrote poems near a waterfall as he would scrawl and got a splash of color on the pages. It didn’t bother him—his wacky tobaccy invigorated his vim.
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