The Honey [Three Line Lunch]
a fugitive diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers
The Honey
Brain iz buzzing
With words this morning–
Worker bees in the hive.
a fugitive diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers
The Honey
Brain iz buzzing
With words this morning–
Worker bees in the hive.
When we write we are speaking, in print, in the voice of whatever we are. I find myself in a weird place right now. As I enter my fiftieth year, having come through two years of chaos and crisis in more than one arena of my life, I feel so changed that I’m not even [...]
Flannery O’Connor once said that the only way to write successful autobiographical fiction is if you are able to look at yourself as a fictional character. In other words, if you can look at you as if you were not you. Autobiographical or not, your fictional characters are not you. They’re never you. Of course, [...]
It was our first rehearsal for Salome, late spring 1991. I had managed to drag Mutahar Williams along. “Mutahah,” as it was pronounced, was his Subud name, but he was very English, his voice deep and resonant, like seasoned wood: an exquisitely-tuned instrument for poetry. We’d hit the coffeehouse poetry circuit trolling for players for [...]
We did Oscar Wilde’s Salome in our underwear in the summer of 1991 and got “Pick of the Week” in the LA Weekly for it, a big deal then. We had a hit play on our hands. We were the Gray Pony Chorus. It was a wild ride. That was the peak of our renown. Since [...]
a fitfully sporadic diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Talking to Myself in Public Here I am Talking to myselfIn public again.
This is a special Three Line Lunch crossover edition of Hippie Squared. It’s a first edition. Save this, it could be a collector’s item. (Do I date myself? Very well then, I date myself! I am large, I contain decades.) TLL graciously offered to step in when it became clear that HS was going to [...]
a fitful and unpredictable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers Over the Line of Midnight at the Bargaining Table 50 union members behind witness. She sits erect, back muscles cross-hatched, voice unsheathed.Lawyer across table’s managers spread like wings. Papers rolled, choked in fist, pogos to his feet, Barks. How must the ancient gladiators have felt down in the bowl of the [...]
a fitful and unpredictable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers You Never Know You just never know. You try to guess, But you never know.
a fitful and unpredictable diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers And Then I Ask “A statement is always a lie,” I say, And then I ask, “Is a question always the truth?”