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| Jesse Bradley |
| J. Bradley invented revenge in the year 103 CE. He loves like an empty wallet on a first date. His first collection of poetry, "Dodging Traffic" came out October 2009 through Ampersand Books. Lust for him @ iheartfailure.wordpress.com |
| Indented Son, when you start writing poetry you'll be tempted to say things like "If I slit my wrists, I would bleed rhetorical questions." This is called a slam line, a concept that redefines a moment into asthmatics stealing oxygen from an audience. That's why slam poets are grateful audiences don't have the text; give them more than a moment to figure out what you're saying, they're gonna ask "what the fuck was that?" They'd write feedback on the margins like an unpopular yearbook: "This is filler. I hope you don't live like you write because it sucks when the focus of your existence is stalling for time." It's ok if you want to stretch your verse like underwear and water wings but be prepared to pluck the stingers from your neck and forearms. Failure is hard. I've learned to wear it like Magnum condoms so I can fuck victory from the jaws of defeat. You'll use it to throw galas of pity; I won't stop you from the way you treat your tears like hors d'oeuvres. Every writer needs a focus so I give you this crucifix of Raymond Carver nailed to a bottle of gin and a typewriter. Look hard at the text engraved in the bottle neck: "No tricks". May this mantra snap at your back when you crack your knuckles, think of crafting lines that marginalia and time eat alive, realize the poetry in failure. |
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