Tom- Tom
John Cage on Silence
I so often think of John, sitting in his sunlit NYC apartment on 6th, listening attentively out his window to what others would call noise; but to him, it was all poetry as he needed it.
TomI so often think of John, sitting in his sunlit NYC apartment on 6th, listening attentively out his window to what others would call noise; but to him, it was all poetry as he needed it.
Bus terminal. Greying hair as thick as straw, You shave in the sink Before you fall black and down On the cold-smeared-shit tiling of the Greyhound bathroom. There is no life before Fent, she said. He