Tag: poetry
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The Invitation
The Invitation, paper collage, 2020 the crow, the shunted earth a detestable paradox, i’d say a man, the shadow of a man could have been anyone. i am troubled by his stillness, his lethargy of mind a woman, face like an amber moon begins to move & wonders if she is a messenger or a […]
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Venus Flies at Night
Salvador Dalí, The Hallucinogenic Toreador, 1968-70 Venus flies at nightrugged-faced androgynous as a whistlea cactus breeds listens with two heads at the same time(a bit like walking without sunshine)perhaps a better woman would have squeezed the worldno. a better woman would have told you happiness is singing with your hair downin spite of all the […]
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Hands on the Ocean
we are responsible for the obsolete it’s in everything, after all. time, dust shifting unawareness a drop of rain or a hand on the ocean how cosmic, how quaint what else but marigold fields? what else but the record of a hummingbird symphony? where were you when they whitewashed the moon gave paradise an old […]
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Undefined Lives of Trees
this is the best you’re expecting; a sky to enlarge the gloom, a spoon to tell you the meadow is impossible; well, i’m here to tell youto shine, to not shine, to make oars of our legsis to violate the most sacred arrangements to agitate the sands precisely when there is no sand at all; […]
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Last Migration
there’s an idea that we’re alive & don’t know it. that chaos is born from the geometries of nightingales & parabolas in bad weather but there’s no such thing as chaos, friend, only an order you don’t understand; we’re all staring at an atlas of nowhere; lizards don’t change socks & heroes don’t climb telephone […]
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Fragile Oasis
freedom is circling on a bicycle where days end and the revolutions of pine cones remind us of what might have been dialectics of butterflies riverboats resting in quiet fulfillment to the birds: keep going to the grasshoppers: the parable remains the same what music walks for the monologues of rose petals or the hearts […]
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This Blank Music
“It is wrong to assume that art needs the spectator in order to be. The film runs on without any eyes. The spectator cannot exist without it. It insures his existence.” – Jim Morrison a spectator, in forty dreams travels, reviles destiny intimates the dead. his eyes are absent & peopled with their own white-hot […]
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Notes on Living Poetry
this world is unfinished. we all know that. the habitats of strangers are reckless alphabets through a small hole, i can see their deserted backyards. a boy hurls a prairie into space, listens to Neil Young and cultivates a soul of leather puffs his chest everlastingly …better to be mellow and out of touch says […]
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Epigrams of Imaginary Flowers
a broad-limbed melancholy dude (bearded, carries a pocketknife) levitates thinks eternal thoughts indifferent to the fact that nothing’s happening a sunflower rises in an empty doorway the sea is disorganized the mermaid’s a false intention she’ll come over him in a tin cup indicating death a red insect on a hill flutters in a glass […]
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Secret Lives of Headlights
morning is seditious; the alphabet’s a void is nothing without the accomplice of my window where the air breaks into seasons, hour after hour the city grows younger. a portrait of strangers swooning over whiskey, revolutionizing poetry, invent music, transport themselves to a time that didn’t yet exist. themselves, invent the lore of cassette tapes, […]
The Used Life 