stamped and metered flying fish

The Walt Whitman Bowling Haikus

2011-05-25T22:31:00.000-07:00

Planks pitter patter
dance the Dervish pine runway
balls and holes as one

Sup with me leaguers!
imbibe thy cold-sprung barley
sort us from the weak!

Oh my filthy holes!
take thee flaming balls to task
grip thy trophy fast!

Sing, Oh alley, sing!
let our legacy live on
each ball turned to blue

Thy supported wrist
snow powdered gloved hand and ball
rearrange thy pins

Kegler, hear the din!
as a bull we charge young lanes
full alley we rent

America bowls!
today I return used balls
I give my shoes back

Cold domestic beer
let today be paradise
summer rates are here!

Semi-pro bowler!
let your handicap a’ shine!
be forever loud!

The Novel Is Not Dead Despite Critics’ Best Attempts

2011-05-24T20:02:00.001-07:00

At a time when funereal pronouncements and apocalyptic sentiments are all but universal in literary culture—The Death of the Novel, The Death of the Book, The Death of Print, The Death of Copyright—Bakhtin’s great heresy is to remind us that these crises are really more a continual state of dying and being reborn.

"A Winter's Night" --my synopsis

2011-05-04T20:45:00.007-07:00

A uniquely styled, witty yet sober look at 21st Century relationships complicated by the isolation of human technology and the culture of today’s modern society.

Emily, Shelby and Graham are lost at different points within the current “post-personal” human age:

Emily works at a museum in Whitechapel and speaks to no one. But from her cramped flat in North London, she speaks to the world! Who are these two opposing personalities who share the same physical body? And which one is actually real?

Shelby is a student at King’s College. She is a self-sufficient free-spirit who thrives in her world of constant Internet communications and doesn’t give a second thought to juggling some 300 online friends.

Graham is a successful photographer who prefers to stay clear of technology because of the overwhelming affect it has on his sanity!

Split between a tragic event some twenty years ago, and a frosty December fortnight in London, “A Winter's Night” is the story of two young women who discover that they share a remarkable past and are inadvertently brought together by the peculiarly likeable Graham, as he sets about photographing the City of London.

The three of them discover real bonds of friendship, sadness and loss as they learn their true identities beyond the world of online relationships, computer rhetoric, and cyber personalities.

Hours

2011-05-03T13:55:00.001-07:00

hour world is
hour place is
hour time is
hours

is

heroine is her
heron

is

she—

hour world is
gliding by hours
to she

is

h with ought
to she

hours passed by
ed
ward hours is

tyger’d

hoo hour
u

The Sonics of Shakespeare (the first three)

2011-04-23T09:19:00.000-07:00

(These were created using voice recognition software)

Sonic 1

Film Paris to cheer with this error in case,
Debt thereby duties rose might never die,
What has the right to shoot by time the stance,
It then there it might better at an RE:
But sell contracted to nine or by A’s,
Deepest day lights and we see substantial new,
Making the game and we’re a bowl it’s nice,
Die sale the eighth pole, and die sweet save tool.
Vale I it now with its British on it,
And only a lone tool that goes with spring,
Witty and on board to bore used content,
And, tender test waves in the data been.
But did the wit, ordinance gonna be,
To it the world’s two died today NT.

Sonic 2

When the 40 interns shadow my bow,
And the deep trenches in that stays be a,
Tell you not so very, so gaze on how,
We’ll be a driver we’d, a small would hand:
And being taxed with art die tutee Nuys,
Where the trail issues diagnostic dates;
To say, what and din own thee suffer highs,
We’re in all the team share and did this space.
What’s more plays guitar Diablo to use,
If Doc wants (an) answer, ‘this Fitzgerald’s name,
Sailing might count, and make mat ward excuse,’
Proving he’s due to buy stock station nine!
This weird to be in no meant when Dow fold,
And steep dive brewed why I tell the used code.

Sonic 3

Milk and like less and ten days dealt the list
Knowing that time that this should form another
Who was fresh repair if not all the note the nosed
Dole goes to the delta what all the best of some mother
Foliage to sell to a close unneeded warm
Tuesday and as the DH of the husbandry
ROA is the sole fund will be the two am
Always self rule to stop post Derek D.
Diet time under glass and she and the
Calls back to know who the 8000 of the time
So ballot title windows of time they should state
Does that offering goes to use the record and time
“if the only if calling them voted not to bid
Days singled and a new image days with D.

Songdo IFR

2010-08-13T18:29:00.002-07:00

High on the hills, clouded rain births the cry of geese
Switching from VFR to IFR.
They are invisible in the grey
And only heard now pitching their calls
from the very front of the flying V to the tails.

There are moans and rumblings up there
And the empty skyscrapers form an arcade
Of impassable towering clusters.

Lightening wacks the firmament. It teases.
An Osprey cries out to join the exodus
In sonar.

The morning becomes darker and Songdo
Tropics another midnight summer.
She casts a gentle darkness reminding
The skein this was the Yellow Sea once,
And it is time to head for shore.

Three Poems

2009-09-23T22:52:00.013-07:00

.
This is Autumn

This goes without saying:
Crack the book,
Climb, giggle, cry.
Elope with me.
Mendelssohn flashback
preamble dimmer wafting windrow,
strings, hours, woods.
Roll up the swather—
This is the end of Genesis:

Where petals riding upon leaves
As Greek Gods in chlorophyll chariots
Descend long paths in a history to nowhere,
Wonders of the world in time,
Abandoned great walls and feats of stone;
Looming towers and languages
disconnected—

Discovered as if lost and yet the desire to reconnect
Seems inherited, like gold between green and brown;
Created as bronze Amish fashion,
Fascinating as heavy blue stitch velour,
and Coco couture;

Ignoring Junket’s throne by which they created
With the bleach of wicked tears that sting the lips of lovers
One to the other, symbiotic, recycled,
The chaff forgotten;
And one a new name, slipped past and under
The falling curtain of the day.

Have they forgotten something,
something that seems to matter?
Did they analyze and devise so strictly,
So hubris and haughty, that the head has
left the body?

Because they ache, have they lost their keys—
is it something they have missed?
Because of want, are they remiss—
too desperate to see the coming freeze?

Why have they not named her?
Why not, this milky calf of Gaia, wallflower,
Blurry hero, black hole piercing,
Early riser, living in amber-glow beacon
of summer’s dying embers?

She sleeps cool to the touch in xanthophylls,
Waiting for a kiss.

But they will have nothing of it—
Nothing of it at all to atone,
Until they need her seed, then let it be so.
They have head lights, power seats, and steroid grocery stores.
They have gas to get and traffic to flow.
…Today, they’ll be in paradise.

Her movements do not move them—
A forest fire, fire without breath means absolutely nothing.
Tragedy is man’s doing.
What would an earthquake do without you?

The world, the harvest ignores—
Orphan grief, faceless whore;
Degas girl standing opposite interior door,
With one and only shiny, dry tear;
Rumored pregnant, sickly green, with wormy holes.

Anthocyan box seat witness to self-destruction,
Self-future-torn, self-poisoning, self-riotous,
Self-centered,
Selfish planet train wreck; ashamed to name you.

The scythe is named among tools, to go even
Unto death. That which makes the swing
Knows the moon; presiding for a moment
On sudden, lonely redoubts where men cease writhing;
Marked by glorious ribbons, patches, and pins—
Calling ghostly families,
and swallowing for home.

Even aboard instant calamity, transfixed view of heaven
From heaven of her; dark traveler in limbo,
Choosing her over home; ending with lit up smiles
in a trail of solid fuel;

Or, in semi-private room, divider set sheers and lots drawn,
Late between shifts, past visiting hours; basked expiration
in comforting luminous flux.

…Can she not be named beyond these harvests?

There are too many trees on TV,
And too many working honey bees to break the spell
Of cataracts and lover’s smells.

A wedding dress by Nike;
Swans and ice cream cones
Standing brain-frozen and sticky-handed
In the grimy air that is embarrassment and Lohengren.
Glow sticks bouncing in the night, twisting and turning;
A dilated majorette leading a blacklit techno band.

The spun spectral language of the planchette,
The permanent protection flax scent of strong Wicca,
The orange chill of Sleepy Hallow dinner parties,
And the chase of the gilded nye.

The purged orchard falls, the vines stare vacant,
And the roots withdraw. It is the battlefield they saw,
Across the wall in cyber malls; where the last child
Who played under street lights is dead to the .wav of SimCity,
Eulogized in an instant message:

and then u and then they
and then he goes
and then they and then he
and then she and then im
and then she and then he
and then i go and then she
goes and they all
and he goes and u go and im all
was sed wat sed i sed
wat sed i herd wat sed
u herd wat sed
he sed she sed they sed
i sed wat they sed :-) lol

We will be talking of this meme, this evolution
We have seen in carotene.
We will blather on in air polluted fashion,
And narrow skies of carrier pigeons.

Did Carthage advance this form?
Gravid season pains, Apgar shaman waits
For the coroner of civilization to procreate.

We are mythology, with low rated telethons,
And nearshore carapaces boarding
Selective societies.

Soon, a garish charge to see the stars
On a sky-cast silver screen,
And the moon will be ten dollars, with photo ID.

She is pale, bland, and sad like us…

And apathy will dismiss it all, as the grasshopper did,
Ignoring his haul, instead playing all summer,
And through the fall; where his dignity slipped,
And he ate up the ants that winter
For dinner.

Comet Carpooling

succulent
desert lust—
coyote and
javelina
in moonlit
river bottom
cruising
pass quail eggs
silent as stones
hear crickets
count temperature
hot and fast
under saguaro
silhouette
sits solitary
truck-bed
beneath cosmic
night lights
staining the world
deep blue
and shimmer
sweat gets sucked
up into
desiccating
skies
dry winds
chap skin—
this is
desert love
and comet
carpooling

Travelers

the elements
so smooth
so thoughtful

lullaby sea
air
and land

without
schedules
or reactions

bigger than
rocketing around
the sun

kept from
space sickness
by transom

grandness is
universal
grandness is
universe

it’s all night we really
travel
when the sky blinks

Green Lake

I hear the crooner catching air
with a loose fin at the surface
of the still lake; a sudden decibel
leap from muffled and murky
bastion of sonar, to the lively
and lit face of the earth’s
aquatic domain.

I hear the way he strikes
his flagrant note atop shallow
water, combining the right
amount of phrasing with heavy
summer air; knowing that he
is prime, youthful and daring.

Perhaps he performs for me
and the outer world, trumpeting
a new existence; exploding
with hidden color, the touch of nirvana.

Or is it for his ilk?

He a sacrifice, the son fish
Finishing school and moving on;
the Pisces shrouded in secrecy
and clouded in thick watery
shades of brown and dense green.

Nevertheless, all that remain
and the only evidence of his recital
are the steady rhythmic ripples lapping
the nearby shore; the signature
graffito, the rapture—

gone.

2009-09-22T11:27:00.004-07:00

Building Season
For F James Hartnell

I saw a place that lived and died—
Where crows flew in the same constellation
As years before, and mothers
Collected mechanical memories
Fastened to rings and scarves,
While wives read letters and cursed their Gods.

Daughters and sons fixed buttons to holes,
And dogs reminisced on obedient scents—
Searching a final command
Amongst scattered stone cold masters.
Projected in my mind, the tactile
Rock and sweat, the muddy earth,
Mopped grass tufts and raked coal scuppers
Leaning two sides instead of four,
And a shaken tower facade
Shaping the broken landscape.

The tracks ended abruptly,
They fell in a swirl of weapons and fists,
Of boots and metal and markers.
Steamy rusted blood had waft its last
Across soggy open pitch
Where cemeteries claimed their place
Rising from the mire, plotted
Upon the wake of will and weapon.
Last April they washed them clean,
Hauling away men’s stones.

I watched the signs of fortification
Stir across the space with attrition,
Precision and blind religious faith—
Ten more feet by November
And every year is antebellum,
This place filled with holes
And roads piled high with bones
And ancient standards desecrated—
Time does not heal these.

I saw the murder flying through the pasty sky,
Felt the icy clay in my fists go numb,
And cold gauzy darkness overcome.
On my fixed horizon loomed Alcazar,
Built by Tantilian soldiers.
Three quarters is not enough
To save men’s souls,
Yet two more seasons at least were needed
To groom the boys as men.

McDonald's Farm Sex Tape

2009-04-04T12:37:00.000-07:00

o
o
o
o
e o
o
e o
o
e o e o
o
e o
i
i
e i
e i
o

Main Farm Computer

2009-04-03T12:35:00.001-07:00

e i e i o
e i o
e i o
o
e i o
e i o
e i e i
o o o o o o
i o i o
e o
e o
e o
o

Dream Moves 2

2009-04-02T20:16:00.003-07:00

There is a Sarbo net out
on the water
and it is real.
The cutter told the story.
In court she was
modern, the Queen.
That's not common
nor should it be.

There is a Colos bar
floating on the water
and it is real.
The crew motto strands
while wake boarding sculls.
Only elite was she
modern, the runner.
That's not common
or should it be?

There is a poem pit out there
filled with water.

Dream Moves 1

2009-04-01T08:37:00.008-07:00

She was so intimidating--
Her hair and her
Breasts bragging
Her wonders a camera
Trained upon me as
I made my move

Which was a combination
Of moves

The first move was for
Myself
To get under the
Camera's periphery
Where I could
Make the rest of my
Moves in private

She was Medusa without
The snakes and without
The terrible face
She was a Fergilicious
Medusa

With wavy stranded locks
Cascading from the part
At the center of her scalp

Never-the-less if I did
Not make my first move
I would surely be turned
To stone...I would be
Stone
And then the
Other moves would be moot
Even if I managed to
Pull them off

Then the next move
Would be to touch--
Just above her hips at
The waist I would
Move her to me even
Though the intimidation
Wave lengths were
Bombarding my brain
As if her body could
Climb my cortex and
Stare at my thoughts

If she did this, she
Would see my thoughts
Which would reveal my
Still meager confidence
In what I was doing

Now I needed my third
Move which varied

This time the lips were
My third move--
As I continued to shield
Myself from the force field
Of her Medusian body-stare
I dipped and dove at her lips

Who doesn't like a kiss?

The rest was all improvisational
As we both transformed
The grandeur of her
Wonders into a heat wave
Of skin tugging and grabbing
And miniature lip bumper cars
As we battled back and forth
In feeble attempts to
Intimidate each other

We intimidated each other
For hours

When we finished and I
Re-dressed myself
Somehow I was wearing
Her intimidation
I had no other choice
But to let her make
Her moves on me

Happy New Year, Y'all!

2009-01-03T11:15:00.003-07:00

youthful folly, jubilance and hijinx

2009-01-01T23:27:00.002-07:00

2008-11-24T21:46:00.001-07:00

SPIDER

2008-08-09T13:39:00.002-07:00

2008-07-20T20:50:00.002-07:00

How come Fudgesicles taste like they should cost a hell of a lot more than they do?

2008-07-06T10:52:00.001-07:00

The Filthy Holes

2008-07-05T22:53:00.000-07:00

eucalyptus

My New Official Blog Mascot

2008-05-21T15:07:00.001-07:00

Mother's Day for Peace

2008-05-06T07:48:00.004-07:00

...and the Peace Movement

Mother's Day began in this country as a a series of women's peace movements; first with Julia Ward Howe's petition (on the heels of the Civil War), and then later with Anna Jarvis's campaign, also as a celebration of peace.

Then, in 1914, as the United States stood on the brink of involvement in the First World War, President Woodrow Wilson signed Mother's Day into national observance as a day for American citizens to show the flag in honor of those mothers whose sons had died in war.

After five years of the war on Iraq, I just plain felt compelled to both articulate and celebrate Mother's Day as it was originally intended: as an anti-war statement, rather than simply as the watered down greeting card, florist and restaurant commercial holiday that it has become.

Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise all women who have hearts,
Whether your baptism be that of water or of tears
Say firmly:

"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands shall not come to us reeking of carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of
charity, mercy and patience.

"We women of one country
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says, "Disarm, Disarm!"
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice!
Blood does not wipe out dishonor
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have of ten forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war.

Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.

Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.

In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions.
The great and general interests of peace.

-Julia Ward Howe's Mother's Day Proclamation of 1870

Sources: www.holidayspot.com, www.mothersdaycentral.com, en.wikipedia.org

Self-Monitoring

2008-03-03T09:51:00.002-07:00

I'm 53/100 censoring! Click to see my self-monitoring personality.

Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel - Second Floor

2007-11-12T20:53:00.000-07:00

Now available at Lulu for $16.00.
Available Soon at Amazon and B&N for $16.99

Contributors:

Eric Abbott * Deborah Ager * Malaika King Albrecht * William Allegrezza * Molly Arden * Cynthia Arrieu-King * Robyn Art * Sandra Beasley * Aaron Belz * Erin M. Bertram * Mary Biddinger * Ana Bozicevic-Bowling * Timothy Bradford * Joseph Bradshaw * Jason Bredle * Jenny Browne * Jenna Cardinale * Bruce Covey * Phil Crippen * Susan Denning * Michelle Detorie * Laurel K. Dodge * Mark DuCharme * Peg Duthie * kari edwards * AnnMarie Eldon * Jill Alexander Essbaum * Julie R. Enszer * Noah Falck * Michael Farrell * Katie Fesuk * Adam Fieled * Alice Fogel * Elisa Gabbert * Eric Gelsinger * Scott Glassman * David B. Goldstein * Dean Gorman * Anne Gorrick * Lea Graham * Kate Greenstreet * Piotr Gwiazda * Shafer Hall * Josh Hanson * Nathan Hoks * Donald Illich * Salwa C. Jabado * Charles Jensen * Jim Kober * Ron Klassnik * Jennifer L. Knox * Dorothee Lang * Sueyeun Juliette Lee * David Lehman * Reb Livingston * Rebecca Loudon * Justin Marks * Clay Matthews * Kristi Maxwell * Gary L. McDowell * Erika Meitner * Didi Menendez * Michael Meyerhofer * Steve Mueske * Gina Myers * Cheryl Pallant * Shann Palmer * Alison Pelegrin * Simon Perchik * Derek Pollard * Andrea Potos * Cati Porter * Laurie Price * Jessy Randall * Kim Roberts * Anthony Robinson * Carly Sachs * John Sakkis * Allyson Salazar * Christine Scanlon * Margot Schilpp * Morgan Lucas Schuldt * Patty Seyburn * Peter Jay Shippy * Evie Shockley * Alex Smith * Hugh Steinberg * Nicole Steinberg * Alison Stine * Mathias Svalina * Erik Sweet * Eileen R. Tabios * Bronwen Tate * Molly Tenenbaum * Chris Tonelli * Letitia Trent * Jen Tynes * Michael Quattrone * Ashley VanDoorn * Fritz Ward * J. Marcus Weekley * Betsy Wheeler * Theodore Worozbyt * Kim Young

Happy Halloween

2007-10-31T21:53:00.000-07:00

2007-10-27T21:58:00.000-07:00

Born this day: Dylan Thomas (b. 1914) and Sylvia Plath (b. 1932)

New Addition!

2007-09-18T07:14:00.000-07:00

Meet Pearl. Her "Born on" date is August 1st.

Gen-Y Poet Laureate!

2007-08-28T10:33:00.000-07:00

MtvU, the subsidiary of MTV Networks that is broadcast only on college campuses, will announce today that it has selected its first poet laureate. No, he doesn’t rap. And it’s not Bob Dylan, or even Justin Timberlake. It is John Ashbery, the prolific 80-year-old poet and frequent award winner known for his dense, postmodern style and playful language. One of the most celebrated living poets, Mr. Ashbery has won MacArthur Foundation and Guggenheim fellowships and was awarded a Pulitzer Prize in 1976 for his collection “Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror.”

Excerpts of his poems will appear in 18 short promotional spots — like commercials for verse — on the channel and its Web site (mtvu.com, which will also feature the full text of the poems). In another first, mtvU will help sponsor a poetry contest for college students. The winner, chosen by the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Yusef Komunyakaa, will have a book published next year by HarperCollins as part of the National Poetry Series.

Dad

2007-08-14T07:33:00.000-07:00

I sure do miss him!
(12/29 1936- 7/29 2007)

A rainbow after the funeral

2007-07-15T16:13:00.000-07:00

This, I Would Buy

2007-07-13T17:08:00.000-07:00

First, I have a 4GB Mini, so I think I'm in the market for an upgrade. If it comes loaded with the full Beatles catalogue...I wouldn't care if I had just bought a new iPod last week!

2007-06-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

Happy Bloomsday!

Bad Blogger

2007-06-14T08:06:00.000-07:00

For the past seven months, I have been sweating away at a remodel, and my health, my blogging, my writing, reading (except "How To" books), etc. has suffered. I've posted a few "before & after" pics. The "before" pictures show the de-humidifier units in place to dry the place out after a terrible, 7-floor flood that I caused when a valve snapped on the old dishwasher during my demo-ing (very expensive lesson-learned). It's been a long, long haul, and I'm not too sure that I'd do it again; but at the same time, it all seems worth it. The building is a classic, 1964 late mid-century piece of architecture, and one of only a few that has not been demolished to make room for some crappy new condo development (or worse: a Wal-Mart).

2007-05-05T11:07:00.000-07:00

Born this day 1813

Save Small and Independent Publishers

2007-04-18T21:44:00.000-07:00

Goto http://action.freepress.net//campaign/postal before April 23rd.

Postal regulators have accepted a proposal from media giant Time Warner that would stifle small and independent publishers in America. The plan unfairly burdens smaller publishers with higher postage rates while locking in special privileges for bigger media companies.

In establishing the U.S. postal system, the nation's founders wanted to ensure that a diversity of viewpoints were available to "the whole mass of the people." Time Warner's rate increase reverses this egalitarian ideal and threatens the marketplace of ideas on which our democracy depends.

It's time stand up for independent media. Demand that Congress step in to stop the unfair rate hikes. The deadline for comments to the Postal Service is fast approaching.

Sign the letter before April 23 to alert Congress and put the Postal Board of Governors on notice.

UPDATE

2007-04-14T11:22:00.000-07:00

My blood work says I'm fine; apparently I have chronic laryngitis (what the hell's that?) with a dash of a general malaise; all most likely from stress. Chronic laryngitis is a type of laryngitis that lasts for long periods of time; and similar to bronchitis, once you get it, it tends to come back. It's also a symptom of throat cancer, which they examined me for by sticking a small camera tube and light into my nose, and down my throat- that was lovely!

Some Flarf Fodder

2007-04-12T07:06:00.000-07:00

NaPoWriMo

2007-04-11T20:58:00.000-07:00

I projected upon two trees
and they came to life.
They stood modeling their
legacy and wisdom and then
wished me good luck.
They asked me if I wanted
to leave a message for the
future. I thought that I
was stealing their thoughts
but they were stealing mine.

Fausto Strikes Again!

2007-04-09T19:41:00.000-07:00

2007-04-07T15:26:00.000-07:00

Born this day in 1770
Mr. Sonnet

I've been avoiding writing this:

2007-04-05T15:26:00.000-07:00

I have a habit of keeping alot of personal things away from my blog (-from most people, actually); but it is my blog and I am drawn to it to document some recent events.

My father has been in and out of the hospital for the last 6 months, and has now been in the hospital for the last 35 days. He has been a diabetic since the age of 24. Last June, dad had lost all but 10% kidney function, and since then, has been on dialysis three days per week (four hour treatments). Both kidneys are affected, and he does not qualify for a transplant. Last week, he had to have two toes amputated, and an artery transplant to help with leg circulation (the second such procedure in the past month, along with a couple stents). Dad is feeling really beat up, and weak. The duration of these things has left me numb.

In October, I bought a fixer-upper condo in a mid-century high-rise in downtown Phoenix. The plan was to simplify my life by selling my home in Scottsdale, and use the equity to lower my mortgage. I can also walk to work, rather than drive an hour and a half each day, and the light rail system that is under construction will eventually stop right in front of the building. I'm actually trying to decrease the size of my carbon footprint. Well, it's been over five months, and my house hasn't sold yet, and I'm slowly being drained of my equity- It may end up costing me more to live in the condo, than in my house (and I love my house- what have I done??).

Six days before Christmas, while removing the old dishwasher in the condo, the hot water supply valve assembly snapped off, and flooded my unit along with the one across the hall, and down six floors below me. It took nearly two hours to get the water shut off. By then, the damage was done, and by some fluke of "more" bad luck, I was not insured for such an episode. I ended up having to pay $13,000 (which I really don't have) in repairs to about seven units-- and I haven't even moved in yet!

I find that I have not been writing, or reading very much because I seem to get tunnel vision when I have situations like these going on; I have to constantly keep the house clean because it is for sale, so alot of my books, and notes are packed away, and I feel very much like a stranger in my own home. I bought a bunch of new plants and flowers to "brighten" up the house, and now I've grown attached to them, and I won't be able to take them with me when I go; my sixth season grape vines are coming in gloriously with huge leaves (I know there's going to be a load of Thompsons and Perlettes this summer).

Finally, my health hasn't been great (and I have always been healthy as an ox). In the last three months, I have had two bouts of bronchitis, along with the obligatory antibiotics, my voice has been hoarse for over a month now (not soar; I am supposed to get my throat checked for polyps), and just this week I became so violently ill (we're talking vomiting 8-10 times like a pumpjack) that I thought I must have gotten food poisoning. The Doctor has me scheduled for tests on my liver and spleen (apparently, my liver was tender when he examined me).

What I need to realize is that writing is therapy...

My Eoagh for kari edwards

2007-03-21T19:49:00.000-07:00

(cheers CA!)

2007-03-12T09:54:00.000-07:00

Unpublished WCW Poem

Great Bands Have Great Drummers

2007-02-24T22:32:00.000-07:00

...watching Rush in Germany- 30th Anniversary concert on Mojo HD.

2007-02-06T21:35:00.000-07:00

Our good friend Frank Sherlock was rushed to the hospital January 22nd with a sudden and mysterious illness which turned out to be a serious case of meningitis. He needed emergency surgery, and also suffered a heart attack and kidney failure as a result of symptoms related to the illness.

The timing could not be worse as this attack of meningitis happened during the two month window in which Frank is without health insurance.

His friends have come together to help raise money at this critical time. We are reaching out to other friends and the poetry community on Frank's behalf. Please consider sending donations for his hospital bills, physical therapy, as well as his very expensive medications and other needs.

If you can make a donation by check or money order at this time please send it to Frank's longtime friend Matthew McGoldrick.

VERY IMPORTANT: Please make check or money order out to Matthew McGoldrick, and send to his address:

1504 Morris St.
Philadelphia PA 19145

We will be having a benefit show in Philadelphia in the very near future. If you would like to be notified of that event please e-mail CAConrad13@aol.com for the details. Frank's poetry page can be found here: http://FrankSherlock.blogspot.com

THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT, AND PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD,
from the Friends of Frank Sherlock

(posted by CAConrad)

I've Known Rivers!

2007-02-01T22:10:00.000-07:00

Born this day, the 1st day of Black History Month, 1902

You Are The Flash

2007-01-31T22:58:00.001-07:00

Fast, athletic and flirtatious.

The Flash		70%
Spider-Man		70%
Robin		63%
Supergirl		63%
Green Lantern		55%
Iron Man		55%
Wonder Woman		53%
Superman		50%
Catwoman		45%
Hulk		45%
Batman		40%

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Test

2007-01-31T18:36:00.000-07:00

Pravus gallery at anti-space

720 N 4th st, south of roosevelt

Phoenix az

FIRST FRIDAY FEB 2nd PRAVUS PRESENTS:

ABBEY MESSMER AND FAUSTO FERNANDEZ

EXCEPTIONAL PAINTINGS BY TWO PHOENIX ARTISTS!

Abbey Messmer Statement
My work has always been obsessed with the reality of individuals and their peculiarities. Photography aides me where my non-photographic memory fails me and my imagination pushes the images beyond the truth. Color, form and the organic manifestations of the body are often forefront in my work. Although I am trained, it is my nature to be experimental. My products include painting, installation, sculpture and objects.

About Abbey Messmer
A transplanted Texan, works out of Lucky Rabbit Studio, located at 1020 Grand Avenue in downtown Phoenix. Lucky Rabbit exhibits work by Abbey Messmer, Lara Kupcikevicius and other local artists for First Fridays.

Fausto Fernadez
Artist Fausto Fernandez has been steadily churning out beautiful and unique work. His use of sewing patterns act as a guide for each piece, creating a lyrical but imposing presence. A formally trained artist out of The University of Texas in El Paso, Fernandez has taken an "outsider's" approach to his projects, keeping them energetic, fresh, spontaneous, and exciting.

2007-01-29T20:32:00.000-07:00

The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel - 2nd Floor Contributors

Coming Soon (Right Reb?)

Eric Abbott * Deborah Ager * Malaika King Albrecht * William Allegrezza * Molly Arden * Cynthia Arrieu-King * Robyn Art * Sandra Beasley * Aaron Belz * Erin M. Bertram * Mary Biddinger * Ana Bozicevic-Bowling * Timothy Bradford * Joseph Bradshaw * Jason Bredle * Jenny Browne * Jenna Cardinale * Bruce Covey * Phil Crippen * Susan Denning * Michelle Detorie * Laurel K. Dodge * Mark DuCharme * Peg Duthie * kari edwards * AnnMarie Eldon * Jill Alexander Essbaum * Julie R. Enszer * Noah Falck * Michael Farrell * Katie Fesuk * Adam Fieled * Alice Fogel * Elisa Gabbert * Eric Gelsinger * Scott Glassman * David B. Goldstein * Dean Gorman * Anne Gorrick * Lea Graham * Kate Greenstreet * Piotr Gwiazda * Shafer Hall * Josh Hanson * Nathan Hoks * Donald Illich * Salwa C. Jabado * Charles Jensen * Jim Kober * Ron Klassnik * Jennifer L. Knox * Dorothee Lang * Sueyeun Juliette Lee * David Lehman * Reb Livingston * Rebecca Loudon * Justin Marks * Clay Matthews * Kristi Maxwell * Gary L. McDowell * Erika Meitner * Didi Menendez * Michael Meyerhofer * Steve Mueske * Gina Myers * Cheryl Pallant * Shann Palmer * Alison Pelegrin * Simon Perchik * Derek Pollard * Andrea Potos * Cati Porter * Laurie Price * Jessy Randall * Kim Roberts * Anthony Robinson * Carly Sachs * John Sakkis * Allyson Salazar * Christine Scanlon * Margot Schilpp * Morgan Lucas Schuldt * Patty Seyburn * Peter Jay Shippy * Evie Shockley * Alex Smith * Hugh Steinberg * Nicole Steinberg * Alison Stine * Mathias Svalina * Erik Sweet * Eileen R. Tabios * Bronwen Tate * Molly Tenenbaum * Chris Tonelli * Letitia Trent * Jen Tynes * Michael Quattrone * Ashley VanDoorn * Fritz Ward * J. Marcus Weekley * Betsy Wheeler * Theodore Worozbyt * Kim Young

Office Space -Redux

2006-12-16T18:11:00.001-07:00

Great Show

2006-12-06T21:33:00.000-07:00

2006-11-27T22:38:00.000-07:00

Current reading -
why am I doing this to myself?

2006-11-27T06:53:00.000-07:00

Large Master

Large master
over the wedding, over the dances
presses me to do the right thing.

Which I thought was dancing
and craving the adoration of
the paparazzi.

No.
The Large master does not think so.
He wants my dancing to stop

right now.

So I slow down to just a move
or two.

He glares and I stop.

I’m not even really that good.
Why does he need to stop me?
He’s the Large master, not religion.
What does he care?

My moves must be getting good.

Lights are on...

2006-11-15T07:54:00.000-07:00

but nobody's home...
Dad's been in the hospital, and I've got bronchitis. I thought that I had the flu, but apparently I have seasonal allergies, and since I didn't know better, my lungs just filled up with fluid. Yuck!

Birthdays, Birthdays!

2006-10-27T06:44:00.000-07:00

2006-10-26T06:14:00.000-07:00

We can do this, but we can't do this.

2006-10-25T06:01:00.000-07:00

The Time Capsule Anthropology Project

Aloha!

2006-10-18T22:35:00.000-07:00

I need a dose, so I am booked to see these guys on Dec 2nd (my birthday-eve) in Honolulu. Drop the leash!

Poetry Bus Was Here

2006-10-18T22:04:00.000-07:00

The Poetry Bus made a stop in Phoenix at The Trunk Space on Monday night. The evening went by ever so quickly (like the Cardinals lead over the Chicago Bears). We were greeted at the side entrance by Jen Hofer typing away at her low-rider chair and desk; then later inside, everyone gave captivating readings. Loved the "Phoenix" group piece. I definitely had my own personal highlights.

New PHX Arts Site

2006-10-16T16:12:00.000-07:00

artcite.net

2006-10-16T13:34:00.000-07:00

Google Docs and Spreadsheets! Wow!

2006-10-15T20:09:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you *can* go blind from masturbating...

2006-10-13T21:47:00.000-07:00

The Poetry Bus Hits Phoenix

• 10/16, 7:30 - Phoenix, AZ
The Trunk Space, 1506 Grand Ave
Performers: Jen Hofer, Richard Siken, Sarah Vap, Joshua Beckman, Matthew Zapruder, Juliana Spahr, Stephanie Young, Joshua Clover, Matvei Yankelevich, Eleni Sikelieanos, Elizabeth Willis

2006-10-10T18:48:00.000-07:00

"Sorry Mac, the bank's closed!"

2006-10-10T18:45:00.000-07:00

Punk Rock Fashions at the Boogie Palace!

2006-10-07T22:15:00.000-07:00

Looking forward to these

The Problem with Poetry

2006-10-06T07:34:00.000-07:00

The only problem with poetry is poets, and nothing more.

There are too many who indulge themselves in a behavior that is mostly about being bigger and better than a particular output, or a particular person; or in extreme cases, to judge another's ethics, and *correctness*.

Is there a genuine public that matters? Is there a genuine public that is desired? If poetry remains a tennis match chiefly for the entertainment (or frustration) of poets, then no one ought to be bitching.

Suppose you gave a reading and did not recognize a single person? How cool would that be?!

Freedom of speech is not just about what you want to say (or hear), but it is also about what others want to say (including what you would prefer not hearing or reading)- the concept cuts both ways. That's true freedom of speech. We're talking words (opinions), not actions. Truly "No good deed goes unpunished" is the lesson here.

A.N. Roquelaure

2006-10-04T00:03:00.000-07:00

Born this day in 1941

Phoenix New Times Finds Our League

2006-09-28T20:13:00.000-07:00

Paradise Found
Megalopolitan Life

BEST PLACE TO SPOT ARTISTS ON A NIGHT OTHER THAN FRIDAY

"the untitled artist bowling league"

DETAILS

Squaw Peak Lanes
3049 East Indian School Road
602-956-2400

Cosmic bowling is so last year. Now the hot thing on the lanes is to actually start your own league. Case in point: a group of Valley art types who started bowling just to hang out with friends, and are quickly expanding into several teams. It all started when Neil Borowitz, an exhibit designer at Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art who used to work at the Heard Museum, wanted to get together with friends, including Melissa Martinez, who works at the Heard and used to be at SMoCA. Neil gathered some SMoCA folks, and Melissa brought the Heard people. ASU Art Museum and Roosevelt Row followed — and now, the sky's the limit! "Honestly, we're very flexible," Melissa says. "It's not like a rigid team structure." Knowing those creative types, we're inclined to believe her. We hear they have some pretty interesting team names, too, but Melissa's not telling.

The Muppet Matrix

2006-09-26T22:31:00.000-07:00

The Man

2006-09-26T00:55:00.000-07:00

Born this day in 1888

2006-09-24T08:53:00.001-07:00

Today is National Punctuation Day.

Hey! Get yourself something over at Cy Gist!

2006-09-21T07:41:00.000-07:00

2006-09-19T07:49:00.000-07:00

Hawaiian Sex God

Angular temperature
rigged into a point in time,
I see you but you

can’t see me. I have
opened a thermometer
and climbed into

the mercury. “I
climb in.” That should
tell you that it

was my dream, because
there is no future definition
of “climb” that is “in,”

and the mercury ate
me like mirrored lava.
I call this dream up

so I can watch the
Mungo family from Decatur
thrill themselves

with their own dreams
of an erotic razorback
gang-bang.

A Chameleon Better Than a Chameleon

2006-09-18T21:58:00.000-07:00

Borat's Virtual Museum...

2006-09-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

2006-09-15T07:21:00.000-07:00

Born this day in 1789: my-great-great-great-great Uncle JF Cooper.

Charleston Style

2006-09-13T21:10:00.000-07:00

2006-09-12T21:12:00.000-07:00

When you can't even get laid in one of your own poems...

2006-09-12T20:51:00.001-07:00

Some middle-brow satire anyone?

Face Time

2006-09-11T19:04:00.000-07:00

I've been photo tagged!

The Drop is NOW!

2006-09-08T07:16:00.000-07:00

On September 9, 2006, 112 of the world's most compelling thinkers, artists, writers, scientists, social entrepreneurs, philosophers and humanitarians from around the world will come together in Berlin, Germany, as guests of dropping knowledge.

Seated around the worlds largest table in historic Bebelplatz square, these inspiring individuals, renowned for their lasting creative or social contribution, will engage with 100 questions out of the thousands donated to dropping knowledge by the international public.

Using dropping knowledge's question-rating system, the public identified 500 questions as those most likely to initate open dialog on a social topic of most relevance to them. This group of questions will yield the final 100 Questions — representing a truly global sampling of cultures, themes and ideas — to be asked at the Table of Free Voices and beyond.

Cy Gist Press

2006-09-02T20:47:00.000-07:00

Three new Chaps. Get'em while they're hot...that's hot!

And Paris Hilton says that Mark is runnning a special...that's hot, too!

2006-09-02T20:28:00.000-07:00

Gyorgy Faludy (1910-2006)

What is Your "Poem" Batting Order?

2006-09-02T20:03:00.000-07:00

for this summer:
1 -
2 -
3 -
4 -
5 -
6 -
7 -
8 -
9 -

2006-09-01T22:53:00.000-07:00

I picked this Keith Olbermann Commentary up from PhillySound. Olbermann delivers a terrifically well executed, and scary commentary (an indictment, really) re: our arrogant administration.

2006-08-31T20:28:00.000-07:00

Found...#2!

2006-08-30T00:05:00.000-07:00

Author of The Last Man, born this day in 1797

2006-08-26T00:05:00.000-07:00

I can't resist returning again, and again.

So Much Depends Upon Pink or Gray Dolphins!

2006-08-20T15:29:00.000-07:00

Pretty Fresh Pweems by K. Silem

2006-08-16T21:43:00.000-07:00

Finally! and Dropping Knowledge!

Constructing Berlin

2006-08-12T10:00:00.000-07:00

This exhibit is terrific - thanks for the tour, Nicole!

Organized by Phoenix Art Museum, Constructing New Berlin is the first major survey of contemporary art made in post-Wall Berlin, which is increasingly being recognized as a global nexus for contemporary art. Artists have flocked to the new capital of re-unified Germany, lured by generous grant programs, abundant and inexpensive studio spaces, and an expansive gallery scene. The city itself – its history, resurgence and rebuilding – also has provided inspiration and subject matter for these artists. This survey includes 16 Berlin-based artists of various nationalities working in painting, sculpture, photography, film, installation, video-installation, sound, and performance art. The majority of works are from the 21st century, including a number of new pieces made specifically for this project.

Includes Thomas Demand, one of my favs...also traditional painters from East Berlin who never got the message that there was nothing left to paint...looks like abstract Anime!

goseegoseegoseegoseegoseegoseegoseegoseegoseegoseegoseegosee

From my old band days...

2006-08-06T18:54:00.000-07:00

Subscribe Free
Add to my Page

2006-08-05T14:42:00.000-07:00

insta-doodle

2006-08-02T22:36:00.000-07:00

SOTM

2006-07-27T17:14:00.000-07:00

*** P R E S S R E L E A S E ***

Contact: Emily Düwel, Independent Curator
520-896-2969 or eduwel@gmail.com

What: ARCHI-TEXTURES:
An exhbit of 3 Young AZ Artists Working with Found and Unusual Media

Where: RLV Gallery @ Rancho Linda Vista in Oracle, AZ

When: Exhibit Reception: August 27th, 3-7 p.m.
Exhibit Dates: August 1–31, 2006.

One person's throwaway can be another person's treasure. The three talented young artists featured in RLV Gallery's August exhibit ARCHI-TEXTURES find startling images in a range of textured surfaces, such as pockmarked urban walls, graffiti, torn street posters and wallpaper and grainy old prints.

Toni Gentilli photographs the rich accidental markings found on industrial walls and other urban surfaces and distills them into evocative and surprising formal abstractions.

Scott Murphy creates delicate, nuanced and gently ironic images using 19th and early 20th century photographic techniques that touch on the intersection of technology and other-worldly visitation.

Fausto Fernandez layers graffiti tags and street iconography with torn posters, wallpaper and tar in his mixed-media assemblages, whose themes concern the intersection of public and private spheres.

ARCHI-TEXTURES will run from August 1st through the end of the month. The public is invited to an exhibit reception to be held on Sunday, August 27th, from 3 to 7 p.m. RLV Gallery, which is located at Rancho Linda Vista in Oracle, AZ, is open to the public on Sundays, from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Entry is free.

For driving directions, visit: http://www.RLVOracleArt.org/location.html
For more information, call 520-896-2969 or 520-896-2988.

--
Emily Duwel
Independent Exhibit & Website Curator
T: 520-896-2969
E: eduwel@gmail.com
W: http://studios.interstice.us

Paraphraseable Poetry - Summer 2006!

2006-07-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

Tho this post by Thomas Basbøll is a year old, I have been wanting to lay out my own comments still further on the appropriateness of paraphrasing as Kasey Mohammad and Johnathan Mayhew have described...or should I say "explained," because I feel that any form of paraphrasing is in reality an explanation, much like if I were to refer to a document, not legally being allowed to quote it, and set out to paraphrase its meaning (which would be for my purposes, and not the author's). Poems I feel, are the description, while any meaning that is attached (theory) is explanation, and therefore paraphrase, and therefore a specific point of view. Much explanation (paraphrase), which tends toward contruction of theory, seems to follow Nietsche's argument that history is circular. Into what terms does the paraphrase bring the poem, or whose terms does paraphrasing bring forth?

All this leads to my personal curiosity into what is the belief system of the poet, and about what is there philosophically that drives the poem at its birth. I want to look at these issues as additional sign posts (or explainers) in addition to the description that is the poem. I want to look at these patterns in today's poets, and poetry.

More later.

HCE Philosophy Ratings Updates

2006-07-22T07:11:00.000-07:00

Based on feedback from some of the poets on this list, that I obtained from this list , I have updated the philosophy ratings.

It is actually reasonable for the poets to tell me on a scale from 0-5 how important philosophy is to them, rather than for me to interpret a value. Reading the interviews provides me with insights as to what a poet thinks with regard to philosophy rather than being fantastic source material for numerical rankings.

I have taken this on as a personal project, and it has really gotten a lot bigger than I had planned! I have been reading Lance’s interviews since the beginning, and the question with regard to philosophy was so interesting to me, that I wanted to explore any patterns that might exist there. Right now, I have a responsibility to finish reading pretty much everything by the poets in my survey; and not just read, but attempt to identify links in philosophic motions, vocabulary, form, etc. – anything that possibly creates a pattern “outside” of the poetry. I am looking for a philosophy that is within the idea, and not outside looking in. That’s where I strongly believe that the language of the poem is far more powerful than the language of philosophy as explanation (theory). So I am hoping to see built-in references to each poet’s articulated view of philosophy within the scope of their art.

2006-07-15T23:38:00.000-07:00

Don’t Blow Me Up Argentina

a Calf
preen, fitted, drifting back
from the herd

even-so here comes
that prick

oh, it’s a prick alright
look at how the weak

ones are picked off by
the phonetically

challenged

two and tooth register
before the dessert tray

and Opal, she is called
Opal—

Opal was lost from her
money, the man

2006-07-14T19:58:00.000-07:00

Finished re-reading Ulysses. Started on Bloomsday.

i wish i was one if those fast readers!

2006-07-11T22:20:00.000-07:00

shuffle of the moment