In art, a dress is never just a dress; nor in life either.
Logic and fact keep interfering with the easy flow of conversation.
I have tried being surreal, but my frogs hop right back into their realistic ponds.
Passion cooks. Reason cleans.
The aphorism: a platitude that swerves, or slides all the way around.
In the great cities, winter glitters with art and feasting. But poetry, the country cousin, sees only the dearth of the fields.