drmstream

I The world is so big, there is so much to com­pre­hend, that we are best start­ing with some­thing small, some­thing pre­cise — a sim­ple story, an image, an idea –and then writ­ing every­thing we can think about it, and let that writ­ing take us to places we hadn’t antic­i­pated going. II When you write, don’t […]

For each ecsta­tic instant For each ecsta­tic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quiv­er­ing ratio To the ecstasy. For each beloved hour Sharp pit­tances of years, Bit­ter con­tested far­things And cof­fers heaped with tears. –Emily Dick­in­son Sit some­day and watch the light­ning crack over a deep swamp. The flat water, seep­ing along the […]

So shake the dust And take me with you when you do For none of this has ever been for me. All that pushes and pulls And pushes and pulls It pushes for you. The sto­ries are every­where. Hat tip to reader Dale in Mel­bourne for point­ing me to this.

When  I walk along the street, the imagery is vital and imme­di­ate. A strong jaw. Her lips make deep creases when they purse. He’s got his shoul­ders thrown back like he’s been con­grat­u­lated about some­thing that he didn’t do. Her fore­head is pressed for­ward as if she’s look­ing into life through a plate glass win­dow. That […]

Expe­ri­ence presents a con­stant puz­zle: the fullest sense of expe­ri­ence is to be wholly in the world, immersed and accept­ing of the things that we encounter, sur­ren­dered to the moment. To share these moments requires tremen­dous art. You can’t force mean­ing, say to your­self that you’ll use this tech­nique or that tech­nique to mimic something […]

The 1920’s are char­ac­ter­ized as a decade of pros­per­ity. Though ini­tially eco­nomic in nature, this pros­per­ity dif­fused into all other are­nas of Amer­i­can life. It was the age of the flap­per, of speakeasies, and of triv­ial spend­ing. It was an era that threat­ened the image of the Vic­to­rian woman — — timid, con­ser­v­a­tive and polite […]

I must have dozed for a few min­utes.  A dream rushed by the thresh­old of my con­scious­ness, mak­ing a gen­tle noise.  Death was in the dream.  He drove a black Cadil­lac loaded with flow­ers.  When I woke up, the cig­a­rette was start­ing to burn my fin­gers.  A thin man in a gray flan­nel shirt was […]

1857 lith­o­graph by Armand Gau­tier, show­ing per­son­i­fi­ca­tions of demen­tia, mega­lo­ma­nia, acute mania, melan­cho­lia, idiocy, hal­lu­ci­na­tion, erotic mania and paral­y­sis in the gar­dens of the Hos­pice de la Salpêtrière. In an attempt to cat­a­log mad­ness, the artist has cre­ated a zoo exhibit for lunacy. They are curi­ous objects, these women who have lost their mind with […]

In a Dark Time In a dark time, the eye begins to see, I meet my shadow in the deep­en­ing shade; I hear my echo in the echo­ing wood– A lord of nature weep­ing to a tree, I live between the heron and the wren, Beasts of the hill and ser­pents of the den. What’s mad­ness but […]

How can I pos­si­bly artic­u­late the flame inside me? Can it ever relate to the world out­side? And if so, is it that I can­not help but take a step, yet will never make a cor­rect one? excerpted from the drm­stream Face­book page I could have asked this ques­tion once. My voice would have cracked, tears […]