so long suckers
been a slice
best thing
since sliced bread
toasted tears
on dry rye
salami all eh koom
bye ya
don't cry for me
are gents tin a
long way to go
for a decent sand
witch hunt in
salem globe trotter
was watching the
television anyway
and hadn't noticed
that you were gone
July -- my winter month
electrical pulse -- I told you make believe was better
radiate; open lips, open cases
wait- when did you last call
first skin; freckles
I cannot take it - bite my lips
they have tendencies
you have tenderness -- foreign to me
and I have temperments
last a lifetime
soften her lips and powder her face
nothing like the great escape...
you told me you hated that I wasn't myself when you first met me, and now the real me is what's tearing us apart.
I told you make believe was better.
radiate; open lips, open cases
wait- when did you last call
first skin; freckles
I cannot take it - bite my lips
they have tendencies
you have tenderness -- foreign to me
and I have temperments
last a lifetime
soften her lips and powder her face
nothing like the great escape...
you told me you hated that I wasn't myself when you first met me, and now the real me is what's tearing us apart.
I told you make believe was better.
Don-O's Dump - DREAMS TURNED INTO EGGS, SCRAMBLED Pt. 1
Don-O's Dump - DREAMS TURNED INTO EGGS, SCRAMBLED Pt. 1.
Read the post inspired by Nobius. See what you're missing by not being in the APA?
Today, I'm thinking about what I'm going to do on my vacation and what poetry means in the 21st century. And for that matter, what Aikido means.
Read the post inspired by Nobius. See what you're missing by not being in the APA?
Today, I'm thinking about what I'm going to do on my vacation and what poetry means in the 21st century. And for that matter, what Aikido means.
Asking Out- An Invitation And A Reply
An Invitation
This might come a little out of the blue
And may be unwelcome- that I realize,
Yet I am seized by a need to tell you
That in recent days, amidst the shrill cries
Of the city, ringing from its towers
Gartered in glass and chrome, and bits and bytes,
You've been visiting my vacant hours.
Which is strange- our virtual acquaintance
Has been limited, yet it empowers
Me to forgo all attempt at pretense,
And ask if, beyond occasional scraps,
We could meet non-digitally? Perchance...
No, that's inaccurate- I mean, perhaps
Over deep-fried momos, at that place
Run by those rather enterprising chaps-
The Tibetans? The food should, just in case
The company proves to be unenthusing,
Help you keep an undisgruntled face.
Do muse on this, and if after musing
You think that this could turn out to be
Quite a pleasant encounter, then using
The number below, do reach out to me:
(Here is where my neck's stretched out on the line)
Eight nine, eight nine 'O', two six five two three.
And there- it's done!!, Ms. ___,- should all go fine,
Your company's pleasure should soon be mine?
And may be unwelcome- that I realize,
Yet I am seized by a need to tell you
That in recent days, amidst the shrill cries
Of the city, ringing from its towers
Gartered in glass and chrome, and bits and bytes,
You've been visiting my vacant hours.
Which is strange- our virtual acquaintance
Has been limited, yet it empowers
Me to forgo all attempt at pretense,
And ask if, beyond occasional scraps,
We could meet non-digitally? Perchance...
No, that's inaccurate- I mean, perhaps
Over deep-fried momos, at that place
Run by those rather enterprising chaps-
The Tibetans? The food should, just in case
The company proves to be unenthusing,
Help you keep an undisgruntled face.
Do muse on this, and if after musing
You think that this could turn out to be
Quite a pleasant encounter, then using
The number below, do reach out to me:
(Here is where my neck's stretched out on the line)
Eight nine, eight nine 'O', two six five two three.
And there- it's done!!, Ms. ___,- should all go fine,
Your company's pleasure should soon be mine?
A Reply
Hullo!! Must say the poem's good,
And must have been pie to you;
But right now I'm not in the mood-
Still, thank you for asking though.
And must have been pie to you;
But right now I'm not in the mood-
Still, thank you for asking though.
they N Sum
them & sumone wanna P serious
but we know better
better better . life's short, &
it better be fun
,
68 times a day yer river overflows
its blood
havecourse 'll fun
have faith'll travel
________________________________________________
Never work
git a flow
not a
gob
______________________
Dadajinksy
rolls her eyes
from prophetward
heaven
jinxing
&
high
jinkin'
___
rule
no. 57
doan
take yerselve
soseriouslee
____________________________________________
Water
got wet in winter
worked
worried
got cold/hot
scared/scarred
drowned in metaphor
washed up
watered down
weathered a storm
got burned
got doused
downed beer
spilled beer
drowned in beer
spilled water
spelled w a t e r
waited
waded
whetted/weighted
concrete boots
at the bottom of my lake
worked
worried
got cold/hot
scared/scarred
drowned in metaphor
washed up
watered down
weathered a storm
got burned
got doused
downed beer
spilled beer
drowned in beer
spilled water
spelled w a t e r
waited
waded
whetted/weighted
concrete boots
at the bottom of my lake
Executioner 18
8.
He was
wrong Bolan was.
No other way to think about it.
Quietly hell-fire
blood mind.
He was
no less than a dozen pro killers
with God
to back them up--and he was
hitting
with intention.
And for what?
For good?
[Bolan] seemed to Grimaldi like hell.
Loud and dramatic.
Dead.
A dimly lit
human
erupted.
He was
wrong Bolan was.
No other way to think about it.
Quietly hell-fire
blood mind.
He was
no less than a dozen pro killers
with God
to back them up--and he was
hitting
with intention.
And for what?
For good?
[Bolan] seemed to Grimaldi like hell.
Loud and dramatic.
Dead.
A dimly lit
human
erupted.
Executioner 18
7.
Silent Piece
--a 9mm Beretta,
[Bolan] affectionately called.
Grimaldi chuckled nervously
“That’s man.”
“It all is,” said the blue ice.
One number at a time
one number
Bolan’s numbers
nothing but misfortune found.
“Time.”
Grimaldi shrugged
and aligned the nose
with the tiny dirt strip.
Silent Piece
--a 9mm Beretta,
[Bolan] affectionately called.
Grimaldi chuckled nervously
“That’s man.”
“It all is,” said the blue ice.
One number at a time
one number
Bolan’s numbers
nothing but misfortune found.
“Time.”
Grimaldi shrugged
and aligned the nose
with the tiny dirt strip.
Bad AssEnvy I'm the Asshole
view 24 naughty x-rated cakes
of model lipid membranes
composed of perfect
for hen parties and so on
we got her as they are and Benny
(our youngest cat) hung over
and so it begins
did you see the original
sweary sponge?I had heard that
about Mummy ( Prof I ' m currently
drinking strawberry flavoured milk)
and so it goes the
the person telling people to
go get their food
was rude and so much more
don’t park too close cause
his asshole will just swallow up
your full size till they
treat ya like tundra
human beings also have all
the brain tissue they need to
survive with comfort
and so it starts an intricate
protein-identification parade
a moving marble exposed
for a short time before it
disappears beneath a cardboard canopy
old skool stoopid
it's you creatures who make me
really glad to be that Little
Oafish Annie hairstyle based
on the short story by E. Annie Proulx
just for the record (and because
I am an unconscionable asshole)
it was 89 degrees today
of model lipid membranes
composed of perfect
for hen parties and so on
we got her as they are and Benny
(our youngest cat) hung over
and so it begins
did you see the original
sweary sponge?I had heard that
about Mummy ( Prof I ' m currently
drinking strawberry flavoured milk)
and so it goes the
the person telling people to
go get their food
was rude and so much more
don’t park too close cause
his asshole will just swallow up
your full size till they
treat ya like tundra
human beings also have all
the brain tissue they need to
survive with comfort
and so it starts an intricate
protein-identification parade
a moving marble exposed
for a short time before it
disappears beneath a cardboard canopy
old skool stoopid
it's you creatures who make me
really glad to be that Little
Oafish Annie hairstyle based
on the short story by E. Annie Proulx
just for the record (and because
I am an unconscionable asshole)
it was 89 degrees today
Only Tristan Tzara
Only to conclude that after all everyone dances to his own personal boomboom
Only a manner of speaking
Only in violent acts
Only as the reflection of an individual
Only for the individual who is expressing himself
Only the elasticity of our conventions creates a bond between disparate acts
Only in expressing the opposite in words which for him are a poor translation
Only relative necessities discovered *a posteriori*
Only as explanations
Broken Head
big party
throbbing bobbing headache
snow bank memory cold face brain bake
...another cHaiku
throbbing bobbing headache
snow bank memory cold face brain bake
...another cHaiku
Mangy Mutt
Mangy Mutt...
by John Stiles
Red hair like a hunting jacket: tinged, fiery and fierce.
Just sitting in the corner, watching Spider Man 3 (three) times.
Now addicted to (milk) chocolate biscuits, Persol, and so forth.
Sandra, is he texting her? Is he calling her Tea?
He`s good at IT but doesn`t want to do much. Likes
To sit, brought up by many grandmas, so`s and so`s.
Suchlike and so forth. Ah so... so omomoimas.
by John Stiles
Red hair like a hunting jacket: tinged, fiery and fierce.
Just sitting in the corner, watching Spider Man 3 (three) times.
Now addicted to (milk) chocolate biscuits, Persol, and so forth.
Sandra, is he texting her? Is he calling her Tea?
He`s good at IT but doesn`t want to do much. Likes
To sit, brought up by many grandmas, so`s and so`s.
Suchlike and so forth. Ah so... so omomoimas.
Bramhall's Discourse of Liberty and Necessity
After parking their scooters or bicycles outside
the voluntary audience of serious contemporary
poetry peruse a video for huge-ass "avatars"
a slightly larger involuntary
and ephemeral audience
consisting mainly of unlearned poets
processed workers who do not show
cementitious property in water
a few viral Up With People-ified critics
saying in a few plain words exactly
what did people in 1498 said:
“The whole place is all Runnymede
meliorate crouch idiot puke.”
most people just look at the first couple of word
the newest living Franz Wright
corporate executive writes
“I feel like I'm going Gioia”
the United States government's
arts agency has worked to become gun-shy
In sociological terms upland game birds read
contemporary poetry as assigned pastoral
nomad work that has Dana Gioia
Gioia seeks to encourage what he calls God
most members of Foreign Governments
are literally paid to read poetry
trying to increase the number of Americans
oft-published in The New Yorker
the voluntary audience of serious contemporary
poetry peruse a video for huge-ass "avatars"
a slightly larger involuntary
and ephemeral audience
consisting mainly of unlearned poets
processed workers who do not show
cementitious property in water
a few viral Up With People-ified critics
saying in a few plain words exactly
what did people in 1498 said:
“The whole place is all Runnymede
meliorate crouch idiot puke.”
most people just look at the first couple of word
the newest living Franz Wright
corporate executive writes
“I feel like I'm going Gioia”
the United States government's
arts agency has worked to become gun-shy
In sociological terms upland game birds read
contemporary poetry as assigned pastoral
nomad work that has Dana Gioia
Gioia seeks to encourage what he calls God
most members of Foreign Governments
are literally paid to read poetry
trying to increase the number of Americans
oft-published in The New Yorker
sUBLIMATION1*
Sublimation: Process postulated by Freud to account for human activities which have no apparent connection with sexuality but which are assumed to be motivated by the force of the sexual instinct. The main types of activity described by Freud as sublimated are artistic creation and intellectual inquiry. The instinct is said to be sublimated in so far as it is diverted towards a new, non-sexual aim and as far as its objects are socially valued ones. (J. Laplanche and J.-B. Pontalis, The Language of Psychoanalysis) Just now, a few moments ago, was it?, I sublimated a dogs ear for my mother’s breast, a pony’s hoof for my mother’s breast, a cows udder for my mother’s breast, a dogs…I am a phallic reconstitution, a reification, of sublimated dogs’ ears, ponies’ hooves, cows’ udders and a warrant cat’s sexual bewailing. I sublimate at the drop of a hat, a cogpin, and with little regard for my well-beingness, against my better instincts, my better consciousness, my Schopenhauerian will-less will. I am a sublimatee, a manatee, a phallicism gone terribly wrong.
Oil On Canvas III
Rerun
Everything seems as it should have been-
Nothing here is substantially changed,
The same pepper-shakers are still arranged
On the same white tablecloths, though the sheen
Of the silver is a little blotched now,
That handsome waiter about whom I used
To tease, is now quite rotund, a diffused
Content envelops him and me, that's true.
It's only when my eyes, moth-like, ar pulled
Towards your breasts, seemingly as supple
Now as then, that I am made to reflect
(As I feel the viscous warmth of maple
syrup on my tongue) upon the dulled
Embers of my hours, made derelict.
Nothing here is substantially changed,
The same pepper-shakers are still arranged
On the same white tablecloths, though the sheen
Of the silver is a little blotched now,
That handsome waiter about whom I used
To tease, is now quite rotund, a diffused
Content envelops him and me, that's true.
It's only when my eyes, moth-like, ar pulled
Towards your breasts, seemingly as supple
Now as then, that I am made to reflect
(As I feel the viscous warmth of maple
syrup on my tongue) upon the dulled
Embers of my hours, made derelict.
If It Be Divine Madness
If it be divine madness
Then let it take hold of me
And within it am I free
To work my poetic magic
Then let it take hold of me
And within it am I free
To work my poetic magic
hot hot hot
for duncan mcnaughton
entrance and poise
the tease slow hard
to see the film is
scratched
grainy
anonymous
to his knees as in prayer
the woman riding crop and garters a genuflect a fuck
entrance and poise
the tease slow hard
to see the film is
scratched
grainy
anonymous
to his knees as in prayer
the woman riding crop and garters a genuflect a fuck
pages of bettie's klaw
projected on the back of the door bettie colors into an image of riding crop stilleto heels corset black fishnet stockings against the naughty naughty girl who maybe argued about who knows what yet nevertheless progresses to a tickling then a little paddling of her butt with such an expression on bettie's face signifying knowledge that the girl's flesh is all that and so lusciously part of her spirit so bettie grins and winks to klaw because we are all full of shit
go on so hold tightly our body we can never own
go on so hold tightly our body we can never own
aXEL bORG7*
August Strindberg has a Van Dyke; I do not. Strindberg went horribly mad, insane with jealousy and alchemy; I have not, not yet. He wrote plays, books on necromancy and black magic, novels and diaries. I have a beard, trimmed close and neat to the scull of my face, and a hearing aide with a toggle switch to increase or decrease volume and humming. Strindberg wore well-tailored suits, serge and gabardine, pleated and double-breasted; I wear pony denim and rubber sandals with a silly insignia on the strapping. Strindberg had a fondness for the people of the islands of Stockholm’s archipelago; I was born on an island, one much smaller than an archipelago or a Stockholm. Strindberg’s grandfather was a spice merchant; mine a boiler-man from Liverpool. Strindberg is dead; I am not, not yet.
Executioner 18
6.
The pilot glanced at his passenger
an involuntary shiver.
The man in Executioner black did not
respond.
*
The Executioner
watch
oil storage tanks, then
countdown preparations.
Blackened fingers traced out
munitions
while the other hand checked
the thunderous
.44 AutoMag
loads
of delicately engineered sound.
The pilot glanced at his passenger
an involuntary shiver.
The man in Executioner black did not
respond.
*
The Executioner
watch
oil storage tanks, then
countdown preparations.
Blackened fingers traced out
munitions
while the other hand checked
the thunderous
.44 AutoMag
loads
of delicately engineered sound.
Executioner 18
5.
Knight / Dawn
The darkness of the Texas central plains
diluted by
a sleek twin-engine
winging
a low celestial profile.
The pilot was a young veteran
in service of his county
in service of others.
His name
was Grimaldi
until recently.
The passenger,
a tight-fitting combat outfit
who must advance
the moment, a one-man
military,
a heavy autoloading weap-
on of war
[was Bolan.]
In the glow from the plane’s instrument panel,
the eyes were
ice that seemed to see.
Knight / Dawn
The darkness of the Texas central plains
diluted by
a sleek twin-engine
winging
a low celestial profile.
The pilot was a young veteran
in service of his county
in service of others.
His name
was Grimaldi
until recently.
The passenger,
a tight-fitting combat outfit
who must advance
the moment, a one-man
military,
a heavy autoloading weap-
on of war
[was Bolan.]
In the glow from the plane’s instrument panel,
the eyes were
ice that seemed to see.
from Space Station II
This is from a limited edition artist book of mine. Click on the image to enlarge it. For more info on the book, visit A Book Arts Mosaic CBBAG touring exhibition page or my Broken Joe Stuff.
.
This Text (a cHaiku)
A Short Text for Clifford
Who owns this?
I alone owned this text
This text was mine but it is no more
Who owns this?
I alone owned this text
This text was mine but it is no more
mallow edge
dried with longing
eyeline: my drowning
was mirror love
sharp sorrows have cancer
station cleanliness
pretending - disconnect now.
fly world, nine memories
into and over
Crying is then last &
to write "boy" was like
what then?
echoes swallowed news,
like "how sad now?"
banging everyone
in the process.
When Colors I've not confused
stay to fade around,
tinged with outside
stormcloud dustings.
Sad spills everything
inside junkies and
one starry blink
causes despair on trains,
and in headlines.
eyeline: my drowning
was mirror love
sharp sorrows have cancer
station cleanliness
pretending - disconnect now.
fly world, nine memories
into and over
Crying is then last &
to write "boy" was like
what then?
echoes swallowed news,
like "how sad now?"
banging everyone
in the process.
When Colors I've not confused
stay to fade around,
tinged with outside
stormcloud dustings.
Sad spills everything
inside junkies and
one starry blink
causes despair on trains,
and in headlines.
Shall a bear fall in love with a comet ?
" As the bear saw the comet flashing again across the sky, he said :
- I will start singing my own song to this comet. I hope she'll sing it back to me ..."
If ever you do believe a bear can fall in love with a comet : comme to tell me and i may start telling you the true story ...
Insignificant, or, a seed in DaVinci's skull
What was it, how was it formed? Perhaps it goes back to the white space problem
the between spaces, except that the drawing had to do with movement within space
and so, how empty spaces become filled by movement becomes the question
I'd like to consider
I am insignificant, as still as a garden hose
to create, to cause, to have an actual act of physics, to shape a movement
in the mind
I still feel the exertion, six years later as sweat beaded lips
limbs coarsened and thickened by friction
I can make sense of only a few things in one life, but I have no desire to
have another or to go back to being, a rat, or whatever it was I was before
I started spinning through that water imagining I was DaVinci thinking
about wind, thinking about resistance on my seed wings.
the between spaces, except that the drawing had to do with movement within space
and so, how empty spaces become filled by movement becomes the question
I'd like to consider
I am insignificant, as still as a garden hose
to create, to cause, to have an actual act of physics, to shape a movement
in the mind
I still feel the exertion, six years later as sweat beaded lips
limbs coarsened and thickened by friction
I can make sense of only a few things in one life, but I have no desire to
have another or to go back to being, a rat, or whatever it was I was before
I started spinning through that water imagining I was DaVinci thinking
about wind, thinking about resistance on my seed wings.
Below Morning's Edge
powered by ODEO
Below Morning's Edge
The cannas have begun to show,
a paradox of petaled sunrise
risen atop stoic stalks
leaves held together, as always,
slipped one inside another like
pages of poetry - twisted,
hidden in the dark crescent
just below morning's edge.
Four long months of Carolina summer
they stand proud, June through September.
I wonder, come the third Thursday
if the thanks they give is for the fall,
for the chance, at last, to let the sun set.
Are they glad?
to loose their curled secrets?
to lay them down and sleep?
.
Music Day
It was crowded there, at the Alliance
Francaise yeterday. If you got a chance
To catch a rare glimpse of the goings-on
Through the wall of bodies, some white, some brown
And all, all wrapped with a lush frenzy-
You would've been lucky. Or if you, like me,
Preferred wathcing the watchers to the watched
Then the play of light, many-hued, as it touched
A pair of still eyes, and from their depths drew
A swift torrent of music, to you
Would've seemed more enchanting by far
Than the somewhat harsh wail of the guitar,
Its nylon-threaded electric melodies
Paled by the dance of light in those silent eyes.
Francaise yeterday. If you got a chance
To catch a rare glimpse of the goings-on
Through the wall of bodies, some white, some brown
And all, all wrapped with a lush frenzy-
You would've been lucky. Or if you, like me,
Preferred wathcing the watchers to the watched
Then the play of light, many-hued, as it touched
A pair of still eyes, and from their depths drew
A swift torrent of music, to you
Would've seemed more enchanting by far
Than the somewhat harsh wail of the guitar,
Its nylon-threaded electric melodies
Paled by the dance of light in those silent eyes.
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