Thursday, June 9, 2016

My Face Is To The Rising Sun


My personal sketchbooks are a bit of a mess-- a mix of bad drawings, good drawings, quotes, collage, and inspirational images pasted in.  I use Handbook journals because the paper can handle some abuse, and they look nice lined up on a shelf.  One of these days I want to try making my own sketchbook from loose sheets of 300lb watercolor paper.  I had a friend in college who made a beautiful travel journal in her bookbinding class and wrapped the cover in a map of the place she was visiting.

My Face Is To The Rising Sun is a small, independently published poetry collection I impulsively bought from a junk shop in Marblehead.  It spoke to me at the time, but the fact is, I have no taste for 1800s poetry with it's rigid, uptight form and strict meter.  It's like cramming words into a cage and expecting them to sing.  Strangely, I wanted to keep the book even though I didn't want to keep it.  I liked the title.  I gently removed the title page and put the rest of the book aside for donation with all of the poetry intact.  I doubt the next person who buys it from a thrift store would notice the absent title page.

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