Monday, November 25, 2013

Post Haste

Post Haste

never ghost shall 
see through blue lights 
crisp autumn fresh
release of steam
bricks and down leaves
and then just leaves

Sunday, November 10, 2013

unsophisticated and unpretentious pleasures


homely |ˈhōmlē|adjective ( homelier homeliest )(of a person) unattractive in appearance.Brit. (of a place or surroundings, or poetry blogsimple but cozy and comfortable, as in one's own home a modern hotel with a homely atmosphere.• unsophisticated and unpretentious homely pleasures.
FROM: New Oxford American Dictionary, with updates by your host, truly. Stay a while!

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Beer and Kisses

This is a painting called beer and kisses by Tracy Miller.  Tracy and I used to work together at Galison.  I  was jealous of how she was able to paint things in front of other things and play with perspective, and wished I could do that with words.  Tracy has an opening coming up in Washington DC very soon (info below).  Here is a poem I wrote a few years back in response to this painting.




If It Seems I Do Nothing
for Tracy Miller


On the verge of a breakthrough/ breakdown

my so-called creative core has pores

soft spots, shower clogs up, it all gets blended

with roommate's lost skin.

When you wake with a bite

you're supposed to accept that a bug

was in your bed while you slept

carting new ideas and itchy sores.

Clipped thoughts fly in and out of sight

as I shoot toenails across the room and

envy her use of in-front-of-and-behind.

I must find a way to squirt words

through a cake decorator tip.   Paint big

    and little sushi.  

Paint pecan pie on a paper doily. 
Here is another one of Tracy Miller's paintings.  This one is called soft serve. 
Tracy's exhibit info: 
Tracy Miller: Big Paintings 1997-2013
Survey of paintings from the past 16 years at American University Museum at Katzen Arts Center, 4400 Massachusetts Ave. NW,
Washington, District of Columbia 20016Curated by Tim Doud
November 5-December 15, opening November 9 from 5-8pm


Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Hachette Book Group Gallery Project, October 2013

Three of my latest blog posts (not counting the Metamachine post for Lou Reed) were hung together in a group art show hosted by the company I work for.  This is what they looked like, all together, on the wall.
Although I added a "Read Me" sign, some people still wouldn't touch the book, to look inside.  Conditioning from too many art museums, I suppose.


Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Terminal Parking Lot


Terminal Parking Lot is a "found" poem I composed from the text of a flight safety manual.


Terminal Parking Lot


Read English well
enough to understand
the instructions for opening

See well
enough to read
these instructions to see signals

Look outside for dangers
such as smoke
fire or water

You can wear
glasses or contact lenses

Hear well
enough to understand

You can use
a hearing aid

Speak well
enough to give
information

Be able
to use both hands
both arms and both legs

Be strong and
flexible enough to quickly open

Be able
to clear

Be willing
to help

Be…
at least

Be
with no one

Be understandable

Have no non-discernible condition
which would prevent you
from performing these functions or
a condition that might cause you to suffer
bodily harm
while performing these functions

You must be able
to do all
these things by yourself and
without harming yourself

Thank you


Monday, October 28, 2013

Metamachine Chews the Typewriter - for Lou Reed

In memoriam Lou Reed who passed away yesterday, here is a poem I wrote while listening to his Metal Machine Music as part of a sound installation at MOMA PS1 entitled Volume: Bed of Sound (July 2–September 30, 2000).



Metamachine Chews the Typewriter


There was no big click, just a continuing
     round robin of an almost rhythmic death circus.
We collapse once a day, march generationally
     without certain uniform socks or stories.

Heat bugs and hiccups and water dripping.
Getting to 28, getting to 30
     whether not or whether we dry off.
 Silence is an interruption among sounds.

We run along on tracks to morning station
     pulling the sprinkler onto the lawn
     bare feet squeak along wet grass.
 Put on a shawl and take a gander from the back porch!

The national anthem is just a tone

     a circus a tone, Coney Island
     the Republican National Convention.
We have no war on our turf.

H. D.  saw the tombs
     open to the sky
Do we take roofs for granted
     or are they obstructions to sky?


Volume: Bed of Sound
installation view
photo Eileen Costa

http://www.artnet.com/magazine/news/newthismonth/ntm7-1-14.asp




Sunday, October 27, 2013

I Liked Mediocrity Televisions




I Liked Mediocrity Televisions

It is goodness you made with terra forma bread-crumbs
interstellar remnants discovered, tucked away.
Your permanent stance emerges late afternoon
the soundtrack striking.

The sound blast of youth is greater than shameful modem.
Listening spent drunk with no tears.
A reader speaking harmonica-movement history
could think about respectful feed-back.

Growing up    holes around youngest future.
The domain needs positive tournament.
Questions exhibit great obscure charms
forged Hammertoes, with cold floor.

I Liked Mediocrity Televisions is a cut-up poem I composed with words cut from old poems of my own, and one long prose poem by my old pal, Adam DeGraff.  I glued the words into this frame onto the back of a piece of artwork I was happy to destroy, er, re-purpose.


Saturday, October 26, 2013

Demons Again


Demons Again is a poem I composed using words from Rick Moody's book Demonology, and acrylic paint.


Demons 
          Again


words hurtful
unfinished
perhaps clued…
irony put back
in the canister

we want to enact
to purge, need rituals
gold standard
of associations of
sentiment party

alcoholic
adventure
followed by
unloading
epiglottally

more about egg
this idea that
we come from
some chicken
the birds

Jack ‘n Jill sideshow
Nice to see you!
physical contact
if necessary
get right back

distant little house
to play cool whoredom
at the edge
beyond the woods
of my cubicle

in this song
gentlemen of honor
prefer blank verse
which is to say
mercifully instant

Here is a look inside the book, and that's my lovely slim thumb. :)









Friday, October 25, 2013

American Office Daydreams

This is a collaborative project I worked on a few years ago with the photographer, Jenn Adams.  If you click on the first one, you'll see larger readable versions. :)