Thanks to everyone who turned out to see the Bartram's Boxes Remix exhibition and maybe even bought a copy of Solace (still available here -- hint, hint)
So what's up next? During my annual beach sojourn, I decided to do some 'warm-up' poems just for fun without some huge project in mind...yet. Kind of like doing your stretches and cracking your knuckles to do some future heavy word-lifting.
A few years ago, I wandered around the historic Laurel Hill Cemetery in Philadelphia and snapped shots of headstones for people whose names were also nouns or adjectives. This one certainly begs the question: Who would name their child "Charles B. Dull"?
So with no aspiration for historical context, a warm-up poem from the word...
DULL
No luster or reflection
or nuanced conversation.
No animation or edge of irony.
No twinkling of eye
or curve of lip in a wry smile.
No sharp wit or curiosity.
What is dull, in fact,
is your lack of interest
in me.
(c) Beth Feldman Brandt 2014
