Sunday, June 28, 2009

Fliers for your consideration

hand-outs, four to each print

poster size

Just in case you wanted to do this from home, I scanned these suckas in.
You're, of course, welcome to make any edits you want and repost them, distribute them, or whatever you'd like. It's an open trade deal.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009


Silence of the woods interrupted by the syrupy sounds of moaning--it echoes
Getting louder now -- almost rumbling in my ears
I hear the screeching of two lovers ode to the sunset
It sounds like murder -- torturous cries -- I don't understand
How can she let them -- have her?

I get closer now -- I can see them
Thunderous applause rains down from the sky
As I join an audience of singing whipper wheels and red birds
They look upon what I see now -- crickets whisper critiques and suggestions
As I sit inaudibly awed by contrasting vision and knowledge
Is that what its supposed to be? It sounds now like Chopin's Nocturne in C -- minor.

The silky friction of their bodies -- like an electric violin
played in Carnagie Hall paints a stunning portrait of love
Her back cracks softly as she arches -- leaves rustle as the other bends an arm
Breathing like a freight train -- quicker and louder now -- whimpers like kittens
Melody and harmony with each move they make -- brass trumpets and percussion join in --
oh - thats the leaves rustling in the wind -- just slightly

A squirrel jumps on my shoulder -- chattering words of advice
I want what they have -- there is no sting to making love
He sanctions my desire then riotously scurries on -- an interruption to the silence in their heads
They turn -- I see her face--the moon shining sharply on her smile
The eyes of the other tell a lucid story--and I know her
My teeth chatter with excitement
could it be
was that me?

I wake up

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

broken branches

Looking for a face,
in rock formations,
falling leaves
blown from their home:

light green spring trees

orphans along
the forest floor
turn tinted yellow-brown
and mix among

fall's fallen broken branches

Looking for a face
in debris in dirt

I see
neck--punked wood
skin--brittle bark

Each feature forming from a forest floor gestalt.

Is this your face?
It looks so familiar

I am tinder

Thursday, June 18, 2009

A gem

Although I may not agree, the words are truly moving.

Here's an excerpt from Stefan's recently finished manuscript:

"And as I begin to think about what I have just written, I'm struck by what I feel is the strongest argument for design: a sense of purpose. For I feel that I have a purpose on this planet, that I am destined to achieve great things. Perhaps it is just my own desire, but where does that come from? Why am I so compelled? Is it to leave my mark on the human race? To obtain a certain immortality like Caesar or Alexander? Maybe. But I think that there is something else to it. This sense of purpose is inside of me, and it fills me, and I cannot ignore it. Surely it can be broken down to a molecular level, can be explained away by genetic coding. Surely it can be attributed to natural selection; to my inherent pre-disposition towards survival. Surely there are a hundred better explanations. But I'm still not ready to accept them."