There is/was some discussion over at @ thelibrary on the porn exhibit at the National Library in Paris. And thoughts on the displays of pornography had me reminiscing about my school days as a rosy-cheeked lad scrawling the f-word on every surface with a permanent marker.
It reminded me of when I mowed that same friendly f-word into the front lawn at my sister's house. And how I had turned in an assignment on concrete (or visual) poetry with my angst-filled ode to that lovely word.
[Reproduction from memory of 9th grade poetry assignment. The teacher was cool about it, but told me to turn in something else if I wanted a real grade.]
It reminded me of when I mowed that same friendly f-word into the front lawn at my sister's house. And how I had turned in an assignment on concrete (or visual) poetry with my angst-filled ode to that lovely word.
[Reproduction from memory of 9th grade poetry assignment. The teacher was cool about it, but told me to turn in something else if I wanted a real grade.]
