i serve
you like i serve
myself, i like your serve
serving me self-service reserved
for me
Tag: artist
smoking after (20170927)
two mantises
on the wall
a darker smaller male
and a larger green female
not sure if i should
put on the barry white records
or if they even need that
or even if it’s the season
for lovin’
i’m sure the female eats
the male later
not because the sex was bad
or because the bastard
just impregnated her for life
the reason for the
post coital cannibalism
is that
he’s not into cuddling after
and he’s not big
on talking
that’s why she goes for the head
sketchy (20170925)
let me draw you
my little french girl
i’ll cover you
with a sheet of tracing paper
–not acetate
that’s too true–
that flimsy filmy stuff
we got in math class
and art class
and geography when we traced
the states
so we can trace
the state of things
translucent as they say
letting light pass through
but not transparent
because too much light
is same thing as seeing nothing
First Printing
I like to do things besides write, and I know I’ve posted at least one picture of my sculptures before. I have more, and really intend to add them. But that’s for later.
The above untitled piece is the beginning of my foray into printmaking. I created the original image by combining found sources in Photoshop and then transferring the etching to a plexiglass plate. The first two editions were in black ink, this and a partner piece in red. The entire effort is very process oriented and really requires you to be present. It’s very different from any other endeavor I’ve tried before. And a lot of fun.
transparency (20170923)
that kid behind
the deli counter
runs the meat
snick snick
against the whirling
blade
shaving off paper-thin
slices of my feelings
wrapping them in white
paper
–white except for he gets blood on it–
and sells it to me by
the ounce
always rounding up
to the quarter pound
i keep coming back
waiting for the butcher
to run out
but he always has a thick
fat-marbled dome
ready for the machine
i will read
the evening’s news
through transparent sheets
of myself
bones, sticks, words (20170922)
bones are infrastructure
that appropriately wielded
sticks and stones may break
[i typed welded originally
and thought, now isn’t that interesting
bones made of metal–do they rust?
are they riveted in place?]
today is the first day of autumn
i feel i am coming down
with something, something seasonal
i wish it were pumpkin spice
but it puts me in a dour mood
drives me like a trained chauffeur
to the gates of a cemetery
with iron bars that resemble bones
or sticks
we park and wait for ghosts
an easy feeling (20170921)
open the cabinet
the scent of amber resin
instant peace
ruminations (20170919)
do you sleep in that skin
or do you discard it at night?
what flows in your veins
beside mercury and regret?
what offerings will you accept
once your clay bowl has shattered?
why does the mouse
return to the trap?
when my voice is silent
how do you hear me?
——
ashes ashes (20170917)
was everything you felt for me
a trick of the light?
some magician’s smoke
fanned to achieve
the appropriate density?
how many parts per million
were enough to make my
eyes water?
was the fire a reflection
in a mirror
without heat,
without the power to consume?
see my ashes for what they are
no trickery here
just crematory soot
bones to grind into flour
the origins of art (20170916)
a het up ape
in a t-shirt
swinging a hammer
i break everything
that drifts into
my orbit
i say this is art
but is it art
do animals make art?
what about termites with
their giant rippling mounds?
now that’s la sagrada familia
what was so bad about
living in the trees
what called us down
into the tall grasses
of the savannah?
the sun puts an ache in
my teeth and the taste
of burning ants on
my tongue
Words and Feathers 