We'll miss you buddy.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Anthurium ears
She sheaths her thoughts like bracts:
modifies the latch
to let enter some,
aloof from the rest.
She winds her flimsy midori gown taut
against her breasts, the remnants
spool down her hips
into a comely dress
She lets what she needs in
via ear-duct
then back out through her breath
Although they mimic flowers,
her body does it best.
modifies the latch
to let enter some,
aloof from the rest.
She winds her flimsy midori gown taut
against her breasts, the remnants
spool down her hips
into a comely dress
She lets what she needs in
via ear-duct
then back out through her breath
Although they mimic flowers,
her body does it best.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Why How When What Write?
I write many letters to friends over months,
then send them all at once.
Exaggerate the tails on my g's so when people read it, and hate it -
they still say "But wOw! Look at the tails on those g's!!!!"
I write because I am too old to lasso the moon.
I write to have something to show for my thoughts.
I write ambidextrous to see if a new voice arises.
I write to save CO2 emissions.
To collaborate.
Why how what when where do you write?
then send them all at once.
Exaggerate the tails on my g's so when people read it, and hate it -
they still say "But wOw! Look at the tails on those g's!!!!"
I write because I am too old to lasso the moon.
I write to have something to show for my thoughts.
I write ambidextrous to see if a new voice arises.
I write to save CO2 emissions.
To collaborate.
Why how what when where do you write?
Episodic buoyancy
All antecedents
are built upon antecedents
All things precede and succeed, eventually.
are built upon antecedents
All things precede and succeed, eventually.
Snapped Nostalgia
Used to remember you as a
rumble in my stomach
A hunger stuck inside
like a habit that
adheres itself to one’s mind.
Now your face has faded
further into the backdrop–
a mere fleck in the scenery.
rumble in my stomach
A hunger stuck inside
like a habit that
adheres itself to one’s mind.
Now your face has faded
further into the backdrop–
a mere fleck in the scenery.
Holy Forest Companionship
An autumn aspen grove
as blanket on our skin
Build a home under the hover of
white trunks and tawny leaves
Rhizomes pulsate through
our frigid, curling bodies
We feel the beat beneath us
as the earth releases heat
as blanket on our skin
Build a home under the hover of
white trunks and tawny leaves
Rhizomes pulsate through
our frigid, curling bodies
We feel the beat beneath us
as the earth releases heat
When words reveal themselves
I found a slit of paper buried between the rust colored sheets of my bed. The size was fit for a Chinese fortune, it read: "'…weaving a home out of poor materials.' 115" and I wondered what it was from but then instead, decided to provide a place for it to go:
Swerving the cones you imagine on the road
You’re missing the lines with your tires by inches
Your inchoate ideals build a faulty base
One hundred and fifteen ideas misplaced
Stacked poorly, the soggy logs of your logic–
One weaving a home out of poor materials.
Swerving the cones you imagine on the road
You’re missing the lines with your tires by inches
Your inchoate ideals build a faulty base
One hundred and fifteen ideas misplaced
Stacked poorly, the soggy logs of your logic–
One weaving a home out of poor materials.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
i found a dollar
in my pocket and a letter in the mailbox
though these two discoveries seem quite customary,
they are fantastically exciting to me.
A check for twenty seven from a soothing sister &
A dollar in a pocket I didn't expect to be there
The check was wrapped in paper
ripped right from a journal
written on in black ink
with a poem just in time
(a poem for the troubled mind)
she has given me her morning shift
to treat the pets and feed myself
"money is a fictitious stress"
money does not support us, people do.
and it's good to be reminded of this sometimes
(and also to find a measly dollar in a forgotten pocket
to prompt a: "hey, i lived without that dollar for a while
without even knowing it. is it really that important?)
So I magneted the letter up on the fridge
and tacked the check above my desk.
though these two discoveries seem quite customary,
they are fantastically exciting to me.
A check for twenty seven from a soothing sister &
A dollar in a pocket I didn't expect to be there
The check was wrapped in paper
ripped right from a journal
written on in black ink
with a poem just in time
(a poem for the troubled mind)
she has given me her morning shift
to treat the pets and feed myself
"money is a fictitious stress"
money does not support us, people do.
and it's good to be reminded of this sometimes
(and also to find a measly dollar in a forgotten pocket
to prompt a: "hey, i lived without that dollar for a while
without even knowing it. is it really that important?)
So I magneted the letter up on the fridge
and tacked the check above my desk.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Sunday, March 11, 2007
unbridled
his bed is an 18-page chapbook
split at the middle–
she slips into the binding
the heels of her feet
still have winter written on them
skin cracks: a white map of where she's been
he draws her smiles
like a bath,
even if she appears serious in sleep
she leaves without
saying goodbye
no note and never the expected reply
split at the middle–
she slips into the binding
the heels of her feet
still have winter written on them
skin cracks: a white map of where she's been
he draws her smiles
like a bath,
even if she appears serious in sleep
she leaves without
saying goodbye
no note and never the expected reply
Friday, March 09, 2007
if you read this tonight...
find something other than drinking to do tonight to entertain yourself
thank you
-management
thank you
-management
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
A (satur)Day in the Life of Que McCormick
First of all, this was a gift from her bartender at Williamsburg Cafe:
Oh, sweet magic. Too bad this girl has given up the elixir.
Anyhow, on my visit to ny, I was able to follow her around "en route" Saturday afternoon to see what her minimum wagey's are like. Needless to say, I wish I could promote trendy local artists in a hip town like Wburg for cash!
The journey begins with...
this huge fat cat at a bookstore called "READ". Jackie told me she goes and pets her while she sifts through the shelves and shelves of books about Buddhism and Zen. (And Nick is paying her for this?!)
She looks like Dagny's mother - long lost family!!! Let's just say I am glad she works in a bookstore and isn't hoe-ing it around town making millions of little Dagny's. I think it's safe to say Mrs. Dagny is an incredibly celibate nerd.
We were testing the length of Jackie's hair by stairwell steps instead of inches. The answer is 2 1/4.
"Okay guys, seriously, I need to go hand these out to people."
Jackie attempts to escape our company but we tracked her ass like Sacajawea:
After extensive stalking, we finally got her to stop and give us a bit of history behind this wburg graffiti mural.
A girl went around NYC and set up these simple, sturdy benches against sign posts to mark places where she thought people should take a moment to sit down and observe the beauty in that particular photo clip of the city.
I think it is quite obviously why this benchmark was placed here...
We need to stop and take a closer look in life.
My recent outlook on life is that we should all be alive like we could have a novel written about us, or write our own autobiography and stay INTERESTED, ENTHRALLED in it. This takes an attention to detail and an appreciation for the particulars.
Why SHOULDN'T we live like we're being narrated and everyone wants a peek into the plotline? Yes, I just watched Stranger Than Fiction last night with Will Ferrell, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Dustin Hoffman. If you've seen it, you'd probably agree: "why would anyone ever want to write a story about Harold Crick?" Well, my friends, it is the person who seeks details and thrives on the minutia in life that finds the entertainment and irony in stories like DEATH & TAXES. You think anyone would ever want to be Bartleby the Scrivener? No! But his story is intriguing because Melville found a way to extract the curiosities behind a superficially bland, boring character. Finding a philosophy from a IRS tax auditor's life is not an easy task, but it is possible. If that is possible, any one of us young folk shouldn't have lost hope yet that we are capable of living an interesting and fulfilling life.
Reason I liked the movie? Because it taught me something. It wasn't in a quick cliche quotation like "Live every day to its fullest!" "Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today!" Kay Eiffel, the author of Harold Crick's novel says some very insightful things to Dr. Jules Hilbert in one of the last scenes. So this blog doesn't turn into a movie spoiler, I will allow you to check it out for yourself. . .
If my afterlife is watching a movie of myself when I was alive, I want to watch a good flick; I wouldn't want to be bored all over again. So I might as well entertain myself while I am alive and doubletime the entertainment for my after world.
Okay, waaaay off initial blog topic of Jackie's Flea Market Promotional gig in Williamsburg. But I do give props to Que for finding a job that enjoyable. Kudos and continue exploring your weekends in Wburg!!!
Oh, sweet magic. Too bad this girl has given up the elixir.
Anyhow, on my visit to ny, I was able to follow her around "en route" Saturday afternoon to see what her minimum wagey's are like. Needless to say, I wish I could promote trendy local artists in a hip town like Wburg for cash!
The journey begins with...
this huge fat cat at a bookstore called "READ". Jackie told me she goes and pets her while she sifts through the shelves and shelves of books about Buddhism and Zen. (And Nick is paying her for this?!)
She looks like Dagny's mother - long lost family!!! Let's just say I am glad she works in a bookstore and isn't hoe-ing it around town making millions of little Dagny's. I think it's safe to say Mrs. Dagny is an incredibly celibate nerd.
We were testing the length of Jackie's hair by stairwell steps instead of inches. The answer is 2 1/4.
"Okay guys, seriously, I need to go hand these out to people."
Jackie attempts to escape our company but we tracked her ass like Sacajawea:
After extensive stalking, we finally got her to stop and give us a bit of history behind this wburg graffiti mural.
A girl went around NYC and set up these simple, sturdy benches against sign posts to mark places where she thought people should take a moment to sit down and observe the beauty in that particular photo clip of the city.
I think it is quite obviously why this benchmark was placed here...
We need to stop and take a closer look in life.
My recent outlook on life is that we should all be alive like we could have a novel written about us, or write our own autobiography and stay INTERESTED, ENTHRALLED in it. This takes an attention to detail and an appreciation for the particulars.
Why SHOULDN'T we live like we're being narrated and everyone wants a peek into the plotline? Yes, I just watched Stranger Than Fiction last night with Will Ferrell, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Dustin Hoffman. If you've seen it, you'd probably agree: "why would anyone ever want to write a story about Harold Crick?" Well, my friends, it is the person who seeks details and thrives on the minutia in life that finds the entertainment and irony in stories like DEATH & TAXES. You think anyone would ever want to be Bartleby the Scrivener? No! But his story is intriguing because Melville found a way to extract the curiosities behind a superficially bland, boring character. Finding a philosophy from a IRS tax auditor's life is not an easy task, but it is possible. If that is possible, any one of us young folk shouldn't have lost hope yet that we are capable of living an interesting and fulfilling life.
Reason I liked the movie? Because it taught me something. It wasn't in a quick cliche quotation like "Live every day to its fullest!" "Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today!" Kay Eiffel, the author of Harold Crick's novel says some very insightful things to Dr. Jules Hilbert in one of the last scenes. So this blog doesn't turn into a movie spoiler, I will allow you to check it out for yourself. . .
If my afterlife is watching a movie of myself when I was alive, I want to watch a good flick; I wouldn't want to be bored all over again. So I might as well entertain myself while I am alive and doubletime the entertainment for my after world.
Okay, waaaay off initial blog topic of Jackie's Flea Market Promotional gig in Williamsburg. But I do give props to Que for finding a job that enjoyable. Kudos and continue exploring your weekends in Wburg!!!
and one last post before sleep ensues...
...and i know this is not what you thought it would be
no whips no chains just dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing...
And that we are... we're all just hangin from the wire...
Horton hears a HOOT
no whips no chains just dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing...
And that we are... we're all just hangin from the wire...
Horton hears a HOOT
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Mock, yeah. Ing, yeah.
What better thing to do on a sunny saturday in brooklyn than to mock things in the burg?
mock viking...
mock purple bicycles
mock shadow
mock brown shoes
mock dog squat
mock "The King"
mock mannequin
mock BIRD!
Have you heard?
mock viking...
mock purple bicycles
mock shadow
mock brown shoes
mock dog squat
mock "The King"
mock mannequin
mock BIRD!
Have you heard?
Everyone loves time travel!
Prior to AGrey's exhibit, we attended a drum circle for the Full Lunar Eclipse! (that we half-way missed due to Wburg and subway and sweet potatoe fries, but really because of our own tardiness).
"Well, its a marvelous night for a moondance with the stars up above in your eyes - A fantabulous night..."
And just before that, some 23rd St Duane Reed (sp?) shenanagans (sp?) ...
Where's the camera?
Oh, there it is! There I am!
Squat - -
Pose ! !
"Well, its a marvelous night for a moondance with the stars up above in your eyes - A fantabulous night..."
And just before that, some 23rd St Duane Reed (sp?) shenanagans (sp?) ...
Where's the camera?
Oh, there it is! There I am!
Squat - -
Pose ! !
CoSM
What better way to begin this string of blogs than with a fun mirror of funny faces from Alex Grey's Chapel of Sacred Mirrors? It was the only portion of the museum we were allowed to photograph and so we did- extensively. Here are some of the best:
Thank you to all participants (Jackie Sammy Rizzo Chelsea me) for obscuring your faces beyond recognition. Yea ugly!
Thank you to all participants (Jackie Sammy Rizzo Chelsea me) for obscuring your faces beyond recognition. Yea ugly!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Where do you get the nerve?
Indigo,
How can you be so bold- claiming a place on the electromagnetic color spectrum? Everyone knows your the "grey" of Blue and Violet: an amalgamated hue. Even in ROYGBiV, you are lowercase.
I am creating a new rainbow for the all-too-confused, self-assured colors such as you.
Fulvous Saffron Lime Aquamarine Indigo Burgundy
There. Now you have a rainbow more suitable for you.
A Rainbow has six colors; I don't care what anyone says (especially not you, Indigo!)
(and here are some color swatches, in case you are unfamiliar with this rainbow)
a fulvous duck
saffron batik
a lime lawn chair
a nicely shaped aquamarine backdrop
indigo (children)
sweet velvet burgundy (shade of Dubonnet)
How can you be so bold- claiming a place on the electromagnetic color spectrum? Everyone knows your the "grey" of Blue and Violet: an amalgamated hue. Even in ROYGBiV, you are lowercase.
I am creating a new rainbow for the all-too-confused, self-assured colors such as you.
Fulvous Saffron Lime Aquamarine Indigo Burgundy
There. Now you have a rainbow more suitable for you.
A Rainbow has six colors; I don't care what anyone says (especially not you, Indigo!)
(and here are some color swatches, in case you are unfamiliar with this rainbow)
a fulvous duck
saffron batik
a lime lawn chair
a nicely shaped aquamarine backdrop
indigo (children)
sweet velvet burgundy (shade of Dubonnet)
dagnabit!
Ears as caves with coral-pigmented stalagmites
Erect as cars pass beyond the double-glazed window
Triangles lose hypotenuse
Also fell flat when she
first saw her reflection
(a hiss at herself)
Viridescent orbs speculate luminosity
Stare without contest
as if a proclamation of philosophic eminence
In pouncing position
sweet almonds, lined in black-soot,
dilate to the beat of her breath
her hine-leg pounce hop, a dance,
an arch of something sacred –
bend at the thoracic vertebrae
between the shoulder blades
With prey detected, a leap
no Catch –
right one winks, twitch (eyelid myokymia?)
Eight disintegrating stitches perpendicular her stomach’s length
top loop oozes puss
Shaven, reveals a stippled design:
Light Heather belly blotched with ink spots
gossamer whiskers pick up dust from unseen areas
her perception has a different bandwidth
hallucinates a mouse to pounce
attentive, in awe at the mandolin
curls tight to Bill’s chest while studying
tiny pale T marks the zenith of her face
as a wound in a rootstock
where one inserts the cut bud
exactly symmetrical – tactically perceptible
central yet camouflaged
jaw unlatches for a
yawn snap
releases fodderbreath
baby teeth planted in bed of her garden maw
ask for air
paws of soft gratitude
bow to god, genuflect in stretch
and after
graze the face of a rust-orange plush couch
without claws – respect
Just after waking, she sprawls on her back
Arms curled as a kangaroo
Tail coiled between back legs
Bathing in sun beam from pigmented window
(disappearance)
After garage wormhole, present again
tangled in a jade patterned scarf,
which mimics lines scribed across back legs
Slate grey mixed with Saturn dust
An Eclipse coat
Fleece sans flees
Tongue like pumice:
A Pyroclastic cleanser
If she were a he, Ida named him Ignatius
Erect as cars pass beyond the double-glazed window
Triangles lose hypotenuse
Also fell flat when she
first saw her reflection
(a hiss at herself)
Viridescent orbs speculate luminosity
Stare without contest
as if a proclamation of philosophic eminence
In pouncing position
sweet almonds, lined in black-soot,
dilate to the beat of her breath
her hine-leg pounce hop, a dance,
an arch of something sacred –
bend at the thoracic vertebrae
between the shoulder blades
With prey detected, a leap
no Catch –
right one winks, twitch (eyelid myokymia?)
Eight disintegrating stitches perpendicular her stomach’s length
top loop oozes puss
Shaven, reveals a stippled design:
Light Heather belly blotched with ink spots
gossamer whiskers pick up dust from unseen areas
her perception has a different bandwidth
hallucinates a mouse to pounce
attentive, in awe at the mandolin
curls tight to Bill’s chest while studying
tiny pale T marks the zenith of her face
as a wound in a rootstock
where one inserts the cut bud
exactly symmetrical – tactically perceptible
central yet camouflaged
jaw unlatches for a
yawn snap
releases fodderbreath
baby teeth planted in bed of her garden maw
ask for air
paws of soft gratitude
bow to god, genuflect in stretch
and after
graze the face of a rust-orange plush couch
without claws – respect
Just after waking, she sprawls on her back
Arms curled as a kangaroo
Tail coiled between back legs
Bathing in sun beam from pigmented window
(disappearance)
After garage wormhole, present again
tangled in a jade patterned scarf,
which mimics lines scribed across back legs
Slate grey mixed with Saturn dust
An Eclipse coat
Fleece sans flees
Tongue like pumice:
A Pyroclastic cleanser
If she were a he, Ida named him Ignatius
Saturday, February 24, 2007
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