Consecrate energy,
Obey the demand.
You travel a million matters
From your source.
Month: September 2019
The Making of a Biography
Letters overtake me,
Solid empty book that I am.
U kisses me,
I abuses me.
Synchronicity of text makes
My whole story work together
Like a glass machine.
But it isn’t about me.
Book of uneditable extractions.
Hot New Music Video
Rock with respect.
You’ll be dead
And this song will be
Filling the oldies station
Like a bucket.
Rhythm connotes meaning
More than words do sometimes.
Body movement is our base language.
Away
He doesn’t see the mountain
Under his feet as he travels
Only thinks that the
World has pulled away
From him
Lovers, Organelles
Why Do I Like Being Alone?
Why do I like being alone?
Cast iron smells hellacious.
Voices are diggers,
And my skin is soft.
Victims hiss when
Their yoke is sucked
From their mouths like a breath.
Spare me the torture
Of day sailers
And night sailors.
I am coming to a stop within me.
No cracker
Ever tasted so neat.
Hungry Scavengers
Calligraphy of rain,
Gentle messages stolen from a cloud,
A mother sacrificing her life
For future generations of mothers.
Spilling overtures of relief go door to door
To every blade of wheat.
Only the scavengers will go hungry this year
Not a Painter
I use paint on canvas (and other bases) but I am not a painter. You may think this comes down to talent. I may or may not agree.
The truth is, I am not a painter because I don’t make paintings. I don’t believe I have ever made something that I would want to sell or hang on the wall. That’s not the goal. What I want is an image. I love the painting, but I don’t feel fulfilled until I get a really good photograph of what I made. Then I throw the painting, or rather thing covered in paint, in the trash.
If I ever were to even attempt to sell my better, more successful work, I wouldn’t sell the thing with paint on it. I would sell the photograph.
Maybe one day I will do that. I will go on Etsy or one of those photo selling websites, and I will attempt to sell my art that way.
I am getting into some exciting new stuff soon. I bought a book about abstract painting with mixed media collage, and I am stoked. So much to learn, so many materials to try. Meanwhile, I am making digital art too as a sort of journal. Sometimes I might pair the images with words, with verbed and nouned feelings.
Experimenting With Novellettes
Recently I ordered some experimental novels I found in articles online. I believe I wrote awhile back about dabbling in fiction.
I dropped that for awhile. Now I am back. In desperate need of a sense of structure, I wanted new novels to read. However, I don’t want to write a regular sort of novel. As a poem writer, I want to break things down. I also want a shorter story. Can a story with no plot be good? Can the color orange be my protagonist? Can I structure my book as a series of ekphrastic poems? What does it mean to structure a story as a scrapbook? Can I include footnotes, to-do notes, and playlists?
I want to find out. I have a lot to learn. I am a voracious reader, but this is stuff I haven’t really touched. It is time to leave the familiar terrains of my mind and map a new world.
The Last Painting
Labored seeing –
The artist as his canvas drifts away.
The IV hums a little.
They only let him squeeze
The morphine button every five minutes.
4 out of every 5 minutes
Is a dog gnawing on his body.
Please…
He begs…
One more painting and I will go
Without complaint.
Miniature Moon 