Jul
18
What Dawn Hath Wrought and Twilight Can't Bring
If we are serious, we find it difficult to assess a work of art, because the art is in the concealment of its meaning, its manner, and its purpose. Because of this, I allow the pieces of a work of art to accumulate upon me, like dust in a room left closed for decades because someone dear to me died there and I do not wish to experience that death again, let alone forever and again.
So it is with trepidation that I strew a few words about Dawn Nelson-Wardrope's “Remnants of the Red Ribbon Sect.” I will begin by noting I have no idea how two visual poets of such mastery as Dawn and her brother Stephen can be birthed from the same spring.
So it is with trepidation that I strew a few words about Dawn Nelson-Wardrope's “Remnants of the Red Ribbon Sect.” I will begin by noting I have no idea how two visual poets of such mastery as Dawn and her brother Stephen can be birthed from the same spring.
Jan
4
Within Sight of the Bloom
calamity is the whisper of a heart
still throbbing after all these many forgotten years
precarious, you might say
thinking of cavities
the sweetest being
the wettest
my monsoon thoughts elapse across perimeters
kinda like kissing a kat and the consequences thereof
what is right is whatever it is we ever do
I sing with the slightest voice so
you might not hear it
unless you lean into the breadth of it
and the whole sense of it
close enough to inhale
its slightly putrid
still throbbing after all these many forgotten years
precarious, you might say
thinking of cavities
the sweetest being
the wettest
my monsoon thoughts elapse across perimeters
kinda like kissing a kat and the consequences thereof
what is right is whatever it is we ever do
I sing with the slightest voice so
you might not hear it
unless you lean into the breadth of it
and the whole sense of it
close enough to inhale
its slightly putrid
Jul
4
What We Heard
The word comes rough out of the body. A wind. Constriction. Friction makes the sound. We all hate speech because it forces us to believe we are human, because we are forced into the human horde. The only way to control it, to control the word, is to write it. To draw it.
Last night, I attended the opening reception for a retrospective of Robert Grenier's poetry at Southfirst in Brooklyn.
Last night, I attended the opening reception for a retrospective of Robert Grenier's poetry at Southfirst in Brooklyn.
Jul
4
As We Sit Down to Consider the Unthinkable and the Unknowable
In the end, there is no beginning. Everything has always starts long before we realize it.
We have now moved but a week since the day Trump was informally elected President of the United States,* and it seems as if my entire life has occurred since those dark hours. As the realization of the end game congealed in my head, a huge sense of dread permeated my body. Only sleep took it away, and I dream dreams that are mostly nightmares but always rich and interesting.
We have now moved but a week since the day Trump was informally elected President of the United States,* and it seems as if my entire life has occurred since those dark hours. As the realization of the end game congealed in my head, a huge sense of dread permeated my body. Only sleep took it away, and I dream dreams that are mostly nightmares but always rich and interesting.
Mar
15
One , 1, None (Eleventh Draft)
See a seen. A shape inviolate of wonder often has possi bilities unthought. Numbers expressed are an orb extended. Rays recall an orches tral set. The musician can do whatnot, exploring music.
Feb
12
My Mother's Death in Her Own Words
The Last Pages of My Mother's Decades of Diaries
Tonight, I went in search of Shirley Temple, but I could not find her. In the last week, I read the account my mother wrote about Shirley Temple Black, by this point the US ambassador to Ghana and my father's supervisor. Black was traveling to California, where I am from, and my mother made sure my father gave her my grandmother's name and number. The two later spoke on the phone.
Tonight, I went in search of Shirley Temple, but I could not find her. In the last week, I read the account my mother wrote about Shirley Temple Black, by this point the US ambassador to Ghana and my father's supervisor. Black was traveling to California, where I am from, and my mother made sure my father gave her my grandmother's name and number. The two later spoke on the phone.
Aug
17
We Yearn for Silence because all the Talk We Hear is Yelling
Geof Huth, "The Dim and Wild West" (Albany, NY, 14 August 2011)
I likely do not believe in wholeness, depending instead on fragments that I might arrange in some manner to suggest constellation if not a completeness.
So it is that I have read the tiny observations of Olivia Dresher (a writer and publisher of literary fragments) for many years now, on Twitter. Hers are quiet contemplations of a person involved in the process of thinking and feeling in an active way.
I likely do not believe in wholeness, depending instead on fragments that I might arrange in some manner to suggest constellation if not a completeness.
So it is that I have read the tiny observations of Olivia Dresher (a writer and publisher of literary fragments) for many years now, on Twitter. Hers are quiet contemplations of a person involved in the process of thinking and feeling in an active way.
Jun
19
In Response to a Draft of "Twelve American Cities" by Nico Vassilakis
The work in twelve parts is an explanation of layers in the context of human churn:
1. the physical being that is the city performed as a piece of earth representing the dehumanized view of a city as viewed from space;
2.
1. the physical being that is the city performed as a piece of earth representing the dehumanized view of a city as viewed from space;
2.
Mar
15
One, 1, None (Tenth Draft)
See a seen.
A shape inviolate of wonder often has possi bilities unthought.
Numbers expressed are
an orb extended. Rays
recall an orches
tral set. The musician
can do whatnot, exploring
music.
A shape inviolate of wonder often has possi bilities unthought.
Numbers expressed are
an orb extended. Rays
recall an orches
tral set. The musician
can do whatnot, exploring
music.
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