Two new pieces inspired by I’m Not Saying, I’m Just Saying today.
First, there’s Ethel Rohan’s True South – a story of love, madness, fish, and sky.
And, consider this passage from Sean Lovelace’s A Red Balloon: “When I say artful, imagine flames, a fire either beginning or ending, the transfixed state of staring into flames—it’s evening, chili beans in your belly, your expectations for the century are settling in, sacred poetry crawls across the night sky, crystal irises of stars, constellations, chords of some owl or an idling Segway, some evening song around your waist, gold dust and wisps of purplish clouds, a handful of Cool Ranch Doritos I suppose, yawning, hypnotic dreams, opacities of fog, a stretching tremor (not so unlike the latter days of America, but I digress…)—this woman wears her clothing the way the Las Vegan skies wear the falling snow. Her eyes are cosmic slaps. Her hair poured molasses, as I mentioned earlier. Her legs a mechanical panther. Her breasts two ringing anvils.”