artist, poetry, Uncategorized

Diary Entry 34:

February 23rd:

Based on Harry Willson Watrous’s ‘Sophistication’. Started 1:42 pm. My dorm. Finished 2:06.

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Class

A regal spout

as positioned to reflect the visage

of an upturned,

porcelain nose.

In a parlor

where a five-lettered furnace glows,

gardenia-grains shift inside of a milk-white bone.

It’s petticoats worn on a petty evening

and the call of an embroidered egret.

-A. Struthers

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artist, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

Diary Entry 32:

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Started at 11:36am. In my dorm. Based on Erich Heckel’s ‘Windmill, Dangast’. Finished 1:49pm.

Pallet

A tomato paste barn shivers

in a jug of wind

as a bashful beaker

drips cool currants

down its side.

It’s Clyde

in a common setting

forgetting young Dale

and the rattle of nails

sharp enough to silence

planks.

It’s Joseph in the ranks

looking for Lottie in the dirt,

and citrus peeled

in a broom-closet barricade.

-A. Struthers

artist, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

Diary Entry 31:

Started 6:59 in my dorm. Based on ‘Sad girl’ by Miodrag Miljkovic. Finished 7:30.

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Biography

Rare is the one who bothers to ask a burnout brunette

about her day.

Or why

she has nothing to say

when stories are steaming inside her.

Whether or not her cat kneads the pages that keep her warm

is of little consequence to the crowd.

Whether she’s tired,

her boss doesn’t care.

Whether she’s hungry,

her grocer just shrugs.

Few ask a burnout what’s fair.

Grateful is she for the small treasures-

the old woman who gifts her a cough drop

or the blind boy who laughs she’s ‘sweet’.

It’s a mild progress she calls her joy

and for this, she writes of her days.

-A. Struthers

artist, poem, poetry, rhyme, Uncategorized

Diary Entry 29:

February 19th: Based off J.E.H. MacDonald’s ‘The Tangled Garden’. Started 1:50 pm. 7:00pm.

5.1.5

Johnsy

When paths aren’t all that tangled,
and dreams are spun and cast,
and bushels are as fragrant
as the gardens we have passed,
will you still sing of Behrman,
when you rise to note what’s last?

When some boats aren’t that sturdy
and beaches boast as grand
and hands aren’t all that calloused
by the tilling of the land,
will you still write of playtime when you’ve grown too tired for sand?

-A. Struthers

artist, poetry, Uncategorized

Diary Entry 24:

Started: 7:34pm. Finished: 7:52pm My dorm. Based on Cassius Marcellus Coolidge’s A Bachelor’s Dog.

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(Untitled)

Luxury-

that six-lettered lap dog

he sells with a smile

can only afford

a rolled-over belly.

Barking at the telly,

he spits a tooth-marked chimney to the side

and fills his lungs with smoking cash.

With beer on the burner,

Turner churns in the distance.

-A. Struthers

artist, poetry, Uncategorized

Diary Entry 23:

Started 8:47pm/9:51pm finished. Tim and Ryan’s dorm. Based on Caspar David Friedrich’s ‘Wanderer above the Sea of Fog’.

Caspar_David_Friedrich_-_Wanderer_above_the_sea_of_fog

Drift

Is this the way the world is?

A slow sail onward

or a deep breath in?

A cloth fin

to the side

of a wide

wind compassing home

or the froth of forgetfulness blurring into

an amber horizon?

-A. Struthers

artist, poetry, prose, Uncategorized

Diary Entry 22:

February 12th: Started 9:08pm. Finished 10:42pm. (Based on Joseph Christian Leyendecker’s painting ’The Violinist and His Assistant’).

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Moonlight on 7th

Who could imagine a tree 

singing of heaven 

in an uprooted forest

or the Actaeon of ambition 

daring to quench his thirst 

with a sonata

that waltzes on glass?

 

Here

stir the sonnets of broken bars

and the metronomed soles

downing the beats  

they call 

ichor. 

 

Tossing peanuts into caps, 

a sleight of hand sprouts diamonds from the waterlogged wells

and in a misguided hope,

spares a penny for good luck.

 

In a city that’s forgotten its core,

what’s to make of the hollow, 

in which the hair of Pegasus still sounds?

 

Grazing the grounds,

the stag strings his bow with a quivering arrow.

His marrow?

The moonlight.

-A. Struthers