A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Sunday, September 08, 2013

What Criticism

Jackson Pollock was, in many ways, the Beat
poet
of quintessentially-American Modernism. Like Kerouac,
he
moved through the world bipedally, guided by a binocular
superimposition
of imagery fed to his brain via optic nerve
input
from his left and right eyes. Like Bukowski, he had
an almost rude appreciation
for the charged sexual value he saw as
inherent
in the female buttocks - and the vagina, nestled
just forward
of between them. Like Ginsberg, his imagery
defied
attempts at rational decoding. And like Burroughs,
he was
- let's face it -
a bit of an asshole. Yet in at least one critical
aspect,

Pollock

stands apart from all of these iconic figures: he was
a
famous painter.

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