more poetry still

Nice image of young Beagles sitting in his bunk in the barracks room, a quill pen would be nice, but I see him more as a stubby pencil kind of guy, his eyes transcendent as the pencil flies across the page in the old notebook illuminating his deepest thoughts and dreams while all about him his fellow soldiers puke and ache from their latest barroom brawl with the Krauts, or the Patties, or maybe the Navy.  Got to be careful fighting those Navy guys, don't drop that brickbat.

What the hell is a brickbat?  a piece of brick, typically when used as a weapon.. Well that isn't as esoteric as I would have thought.

I guess rhyming is ok, it's fine if it's done well I suppose, but sometimes the poet gets into that sing-songy moon/June thing which is the pits, and sometimes when you are reading it, you can tell what the final rhyming word is going to be, and indeed you can see how the whole line is set up to serve the rhyme.  You know the first line you can say whatever you want, but you have less freedom with your second line.

I guy at the Ten Cat told me once that the thing about music is the tension between the expected and the unexpected, like when the beat comes when you expect it, you are kind of soothed, but when it's not there you are kind of tense, but kind of excited, and that is what music is all about.  I do something like that in my painting, starting patterns and then breaking them and then resuming then, but we are not talking about my painting.  Maybe some other day.

Speaking of music, while most modern poetry has broken free of that rhyming thing, I don't think songwriting has.  Are there any songs that don't rhyme?  I can't think of any offhand.

That shooting of Dan McGrew is ok.  Awfully sing-songy, but it has a nice movement from the muck and gold to the Northern lights.  Nice line from Rudyard about the dawn coming up like thunder across the bay.  I see the sunrise almost every day and I never hear no thunder, but Rudyard's dawn has a ring no, maybe because it is coming out of exotic China, while my sun is coming out of Michigan, which besides the wooden shoes of Holland Michigan, is not all that exotic.  While we're at it, does Beagles ever get to see the Northern lights?

I don't know about that shit eating hound thing
It just doesn't make my heart sing.


Geez, now that Trump has put in that general, life is kind of boring.  There is Trump ghosting that statement for his son, and there is a complicated scheme involving Trump and Fox and that dem staffer who got shot, but without the morning tweets life seems a little empty.  I don't think it can last and even now as the dawn comes up like shoes of lumber out of Michigan across the lake...

I am waiting on the tweet
That will make my sleepy heart beat