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Monday, January 26, 2015

2 poems || Raymond Farr

The Crimson Mechanical Tiger of My Will
They or I said
It was “the rapture

Of endless
Approximation”
—Tan Lin
It was 96 stifling NY degrees maybe
Or it was a million degrees exactly

& whenever I walked I sank down in the pavement
A man had tweeted me the wrong goofy coordinates

& nothing occurring in present tense was made of steel
Wasn’t at least a little bit his fault or mine

Our fate was in the stars like everything he told me
I was bending each moment/the people inexactly

To the crimson mechanical tiger of my will
& so I thought the obvious was a metaphor for the obvious

& no one knows why
In a gash of broad daylight I let my phone ring

Or why the impossible man stood there like Mao
The 20th C picking my brain in a room at the Marriott

Sometimes I desired something just minimalist
But the road kept on going like a boy reading Faust

& so we took all of our mind games & played
Yr-death-makes-me-sad in the human zoo of our skin

& nothing we deemed the particulars was ever
Of consequence—a million degrees exactly

& so I felt a bomb go off in our teeth
I hadn’t spoken I realized in 5 or 6 days



& Other Passages from Paradise Lost

Despite a hint of diseased feet
Dante entered her womb

In cobalt winter—
I thought it was crass

But I still think it was art—
A weed half tulip half Hershey’s bar

Was holding its own in soft new beautiful shoes
It was like a disco ball swirling in a sea of pink light

A thousand facets pregnant with the pauses
Of a thousand more

& someone at Cactus Car Wash
Was sending word on ahead

That everything looked good
& we’d better act ASAP—







Our poems are in vogue, sd Kunst Kick
Simply because there’s no such thing!

poem || Lawrence Upton

how it may work

polyvocal



those beyond premier unanswered application
news headline news
white convincing photograph
the futures getting at truth

coming had solicitation
ages of restriction
she or he
the empty back thought

contacts
might things touching
things made by millions
the corruption clashes

an whole polygamy linked
city and church
god and church
the industry

the money
known of
some principles
talk training

pressed retracings
of one's own outburst

the world's climacteric

as living
mind with

the night
the pictures
towers
shelters

staggering
among brains
domination assured rent
being enjoyed

bond age
wanted decision
welcomed
colour

blood
simulated
hospital
insistently

sustains
bottomless danger
and love
one on knees

shall swear
singing the question
the waste
the huge office

Saturday, January 24, 2015

text || Peter Ganick

EARTHLIGHT

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poem || Hugh Tribbey

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Friday, January 23, 2015

poem || Lawrence Upton

Dogged loop

solo

cardboard box
dog

cardboard box
dog

cardboard box
dog

cardboard box
dog

cardboard box dog

cardboard box
dog

cardboard box
dog

cardboard box
dog

cardboard box
dog

[This poem can be read for as long as you like providing you do it relentlessly – though not fast – and reach the greatest volume in the middle and are quietest at the beginning and the end. Pause briefly after the first line and much longer after the second, between the repeating couplets. Make emphasis relatively light on the first line and quite heavy on the second.]

poem || Jeff Harrison

Road Dandelions
 
road dandelions
are forthcoming
wilted winter
cracked you
brighter down dust
turned dust below
or sky information, maybe,
the greatest among you
turned fast crumbs --
who'll finish this shrug?
I'm sure they'll agree to
ice down our televisions
and warm up the houseflies
they thrive on smooth folk
they sometimes ask
"Permission to come aboard?"
they charge the color of cash
for hard are their head areas
they breathe mazes of children
they wail like churned water
they're allergic to sonatas
they raise a medium bubbling
they introduce themselves
as the road dandelions

poetry || Scott Thomas Outlar

Excerpt from One Hundred Poetic Points


Point number three

Not so much (too little) a point (inward), as it is a blanket (freeze the warmth) of information (forgotten data) broadcast (can you hear me?) from my mind (conclusion).

Point number four

I can't seem to close (I) this (am) deal (spent).  I crush the pain to feel the joy.  I love humanity so much it hurts.  The hate that the species inflicts upon itself leads me to feel (empathy).  Damage is done to the collective consciousness –  this is simply not good.  I make the choice to form an opinion (righteousness?) that hatred is not a good thing (does anyone disagree?).  It serves to further the halt of progress, a slave toward stunting growth.  My profound (on to the next) statement of truth (relative to awareness) in this (that – *) is * hatred is not good.

Point number five

I'm flowing away into the abstract, or is it that originality (copied mimic) is taking (got taken) hold (lose grip).  Love is the hope I have my faith in.  I have witnessed (sensual understanding) the positive effect (casual causation) love has (have some) had on life (truly living).

Point number six

Food (the cycle) is necessary for survival.

Point number seven

I hunger.

Point number eight

Answers open avenues toward more questions.

Point number nine

Here I am.  I am here.
Alive.
An island.
The harsh truth is: The truth is harsh.
I have come to understand.
I am aware.
These proclamations have much meaning, but more so when I flesh them out into thoughts, opinions, an agenda.
Stroke the skin.
Emotional reaction; what once seemed as if magic, now a chemical response.
A known.

Point number ten

Originality is the concept continually making a presence in my consciousness, a nest (mess) of my mind (cleaned).  There is a format with infinite abstraction tangents flowing (river rain) off of (washes) it.

Point number eleven

I am at a (dull) fine-tip.  (parenthesis)  [mathematics] I am in a (decided) waver-mode.  Absent convention (circus show), I find myself on a (gather round) path leading through the (known) unknown and (far, far...) closer to the (...away) known.