 |
from asemic filigree
***
***
|
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Halvard Johnson
Frequent Flyer
1.
seemingly derived from lipstick and nylon stockings
swooping up and down like a roller coaster
ruffled hem of a teenager’s party dress back in the 50s
packs a considerable punch, engages viewer full force
brightly hued and carnal, weight and physicality, not
to mention increased tactility of surface
2.
no longer using a grid to support dense, sensuous abstractions
many-layered curtains of forms,
but now, more confident
taking up possibilities that have been lying dormant
for decades, if not centuries; fallen into ruin
all manner of biomorphic slivers and blobs
3.
nonsensical words, mating on a gallery floor
with books and periodicals in various languages
close-up studies of the act of eating; videos of men
impersonating beautiful women in Beijing
and elsewhere in China, one covered with
meaningless Chinese characters
4.
a trumpet call for coal miners, moving forward
with a roar
still so much to say before the motorized
light bulb is extinguished
paintings for the hard of hearing, secret worlds
of bricks and ciphers
those mornings at the edge of time, they hardly
ever mattered
circling all evening around a central pole
5.
the series of craters in their abundant
proclivities, untitled rock fields
adjacent to beeswax slabs, the two of them
in their enormous armchair
kissing l’s and p’s and q’s.
6.
a bustle of stocky figures, revered masters
leaning against their easels
so I became a eunuch
afraid to show us nothing
lostness is a found quality here
you really have no choice
7.
remnants slipping through the productions of
a vigorous new tradition
capturing a sense
of unmistakable contradictions
not intrusive or voyeuristic, but wary
and watchful, intimate and empathetic
meditative moods, long takes, slow
revelations, slow dissolves
8.
fragments of live models encased
in vitrines,
blue wings against white
fields
safety curtains lowered for an intermission
9.
We said, “All politics are local.”
We felt that life was too beautiful.
We thought we’d missed the train of history
but found it hadn’t left the station.
We wanted to get somewhere.
When I’m out in the street, I’m scared of being kidnapped.
10.
mazes of alleys and buildings
nowhere to get to
tried and failed
to go mad
let me have
one final look at you
***
***
1.
seemingly derived from lipstick and nylon stockings
swooping up and down like a roller coaster
ruffled hem of a teenager’s party dress back in the 50s
packs a considerable punch, engages viewer full force
brightly hued and carnal, weight and physicality, not
to mention increased tactility of surface
2.
no longer using a grid to support dense, sensuous abstractions
many-layered curtains of forms,
but now, more confident
taking up possibilities that have been lying dormant
for decades, if not centuries; fallen into ruin
all manner of biomorphic slivers and blobs
3.
nonsensical words, mating on a gallery floor
with books and periodicals in various languages
close-up studies of the act of eating; videos of men
impersonating beautiful women in Beijing
and elsewhere in China, one covered with
meaningless Chinese characters
4.
a trumpet call for coal miners, moving forward
with a roar
still so much to say before the motorized
light bulb is extinguished
paintings for the hard of hearing, secret worlds
of bricks and ciphers
those mornings at the edge of time, they hardly
ever mattered
circling all evening around a central pole
5.
the series of craters in their abundant
proclivities, untitled rock fields
adjacent to beeswax slabs, the two of them
in their enormous armchair
kissing l’s and p’s and q’s.
6.
a bustle of stocky figures, revered masters
leaning against their easels
so I became a eunuch
afraid to show us nothing
lostness is a found quality here
you really have no choice
7.
remnants slipping through the productions of
a vigorous new tradition
capturing a sense
of unmistakable contradictions
not intrusive or voyeuristic, but wary
and watchful, intimate and empathetic
meditative moods, long takes, slow
revelations, slow dissolves
8.
fragments of live models encased
in vitrines,
blue wings against white
fields
safety curtains lowered for an intermission
9.
We said, “All politics are local.”
We felt that life was too beautiful.
We thought we’d missed the train of history
but found it hadn’t left the station.
We wanted to get somewhere.
When I’m out in the street, I’m scared of being kidnapped.
10.
mazes of alleys and buildings
nowhere to get to
tried and failed
to go mad
let me have
one final look at you
***
***
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Jasper Brinton
slipway ( 6 selected blocks )
there’s a friend
among the rock-rose
that is horizon-less
wild with campion
without address
a structure that stars
an empty stone-path
warns of pandemic
a pinked bloom day
a seasoned terrace
pigmented alarmed
the power of sea odor
perfumed in places
seeing he is sun
and deeply wrought
here I take pattern
a fine wrapped ibis
weave sand grains
claw and nail-pull
a given wall with lime
the antiquated spell
loosens the gut
the knife still spreading
vast night bedstraw
where slavery survives
the dung-house door
why my song a wish
bullock in tow
happy for cheetah
receive my organs
describe an end
or death register
show the easy lope
where a jackal leaps
bone flint star trace
the passing down
not of life or cell
stone or tessera
whereas the pretender
with camouflage
chases a thousand
bleeds that jitter
— a jerboa crouched
abiding nightly
kill presence
only that a certain
permanence links
mood to illusion
troth on the trunk
as then carved
blazed from heights
meaning time arrives
shapes the olive
untutored by letter
the course a slogan
why storks in sight
those we signal
drift the waste
unaware the nemesis
was sworn a trust
desert surface
song parenthesis
what riddle on earth
one we un-oath
un-corner as vista
cloud for climax
o whirlwind timber
humanly wringing
grain thru thought
each word a stripped
strategic command
sent against tissue
will you deafen or
hear the lip finger
unable to follow
this that shivers
under one’s eye
drifts on effort
forlorn as the ant
opines the wadi
skilled on a run
tho it’s day one
Sahara wind
who’s faultless
morning glory
fetish intends
the taintless self
a bright garden
vast or frail—
break the strain
Bjørn Magnhildøen
a better now, a smartphone-sized, will it fit inside a pixel? We're on
the next picture, will without heads while others with tiled streets. i
was with a light and solution. dancing house is looking like christ with
easter eggs inside least religous people around. nothing remember it,
otherwise special. so, we water to earth, life-giving, fluid.. alien
gothic references you're else. and then clock provides a lot of you are.
if you keep to then. and if you don't change into the walls of point
upwards. of gold left to its imagination. be violent or the other of two
mirrors. on time. you can pose in able to pose in front maybe you can
one and a half face. with a horse with his being a being? in the end of
the coming out of them. holding a church, does it tilt back invaded by
just how. a tilted perspective though they don't fall the tombs and
graves, rises upright buildings there's no end to the Mars, Juptiter,
the next only gods and dead physical golden cartoon, scary, beauty and
the sublime, its aspiring infinity! some tool a toothless monster. back
of his head at least. the backside their somethings. i think we have
enough cats with mona lisa smiles. seem to have smelled hopeless
intellectual's sunshine, egyptian memfis a fancy box, how does it can
you, put a car is common, who is looking? self-reference as invalid. and
apple strudle. language as invalid, give other names to well-known still
not eaten, will they can, we eat them? but doesn't read, that you might
fool somehow - in dreams often like you have no muscles.. looks like the
clouds above goulash spice, of pieces. circles declared pi to be 4 at a
square.. tiramisu and if we abolished language what my going into so
many churches laid flat in an image. you pelikan is if you like her
voice, depth is the right place you have by modus ponens.. two swans
down at you as if curious. eggs. they write that the maybe. the beer
does each person. maybe road another place because he said something
strange. fluid, are our sculptures, like torture lost. more a loss of
king maybe. hanged upside-down. so you are identical buildings, about to
jump. i am the needles of cathedrals. the clock might strike any front
of time. an arm the help of gravitation is there, being a horse a
property he asks. blobs a bloody mess, mostly desperation. with all its
cleaner lines, classical, human flesh below, from a postcard, has 180
degrees, you check seems more attractive, over, though maybe they sleep.
a human is that needles into the sky upright... zoom and zoom without at
yourself? drinking mind-alone ramblings. two clouds, one sky, it's a
puzzle. high up say there was something in vain. circles broken pi to be
4 at some time. the honky-tonk synagoge style. a box with a hat, all go
together with the clouds inside, can we advice it? if pi were apple
strudle, strange as invalid, does it name to well-known things. have to
move to see depth, moving, and some people are legs. the river is
compensated resolution. a nest on its head, was nothing pictures of
then.. a synagoge his dog.. the goethe bandits - though most of our
mission was to bring heads water? ideals, plasma instruments. without
navigation reference people sculpted out. you can zoom up on identity,
if you're not too many people in-between. who seem to be growing out of
the ear, you can hang anything. being a horse, or a king, hanging from
the earth, and from our feet. light fades, everything call it night just
not to one the reality, the back side of bolts and screws loose,
whatever soap-opera being there, present, human tilted upright animal
who gives the illusion into empty space then... where no humans can
live, or not.. the know how to place or represent or vagina, unborn the
cathedral looks like pictured on pictures, the look like a garage at
times. if you had a fractal lack of detail. and think you can eat i'm
starting to taste it bit like eating, it resembles like a dream, you
have no digestion. of remainings or remainings bread.
***
***
the next picture, will without heads while others with tiled streets. i
was with a light and solution. dancing house is looking like christ with
easter eggs inside least religous people around. nothing remember it,
otherwise special. so, we water to earth, life-giving, fluid.. alien
gothic references you're else. and then clock provides a lot of you are.
if you keep to then. and if you don't change into the walls of point
upwards. of gold left to its imagination. be violent or the other of two
mirrors. on time. you can pose in able to pose in front maybe you can
one and a half face. with a horse with his being a being? in the end of
the coming out of them. holding a church, does it tilt back invaded by
just how. a tilted perspective though they don't fall the tombs and
graves, rises upright buildings there's no end to the Mars, Juptiter,
the next only gods and dead physical golden cartoon, scary, beauty and
the sublime, its aspiring infinity! some tool a toothless monster. back
of his head at least. the backside their somethings. i think we have
enough cats with mona lisa smiles. seem to have smelled hopeless
intellectual's sunshine, egyptian memfis a fancy box, how does it can
you, put a car is common, who is looking? self-reference as invalid. and
apple strudle. language as invalid, give other names to well-known still
not eaten, will they can, we eat them? but doesn't read, that you might
fool somehow - in dreams often like you have no muscles.. looks like the
clouds above goulash spice, of pieces. circles declared pi to be 4 at a
square.. tiramisu and if we abolished language what my going into so
many churches laid flat in an image. you pelikan is if you like her
voice, depth is the right place you have by modus ponens.. two swans
down at you as if curious. eggs. they write that the maybe. the beer
does each person. maybe road another place because he said something
strange. fluid, are our sculptures, like torture lost. more a loss of
king maybe. hanged upside-down. so you are identical buildings, about to
jump. i am the needles of cathedrals. the clock might strike any front
of time. an arm the help of gravitation is there, being a horse a
property he asks. blobs a bloody mess, mostly desperation. with all its
cleaner lines, classical, human flesh below, from a postcard, has 180
degrees, you check seems more attractive, over, though maybe they sleep.
a human is that needles into the sky upright... zoom and zoom without at
yourself? drinking mind-alone ramblings. two clouds, one sky, it's a
puzzle. high up say there was something in vain. circles broken pi to be
4 at some time. the honky-tonk synagoge style. a box with a hat, all go
together with the clouds inside, can we advice it? if pi were apple
strudle, strange as invalid, does it name to well-known things. have to
move to see depth, moving, and some people are legs. the river is
compensated resolution. a nest on its head, was nothing pictures of
then.. a synagoge his dog.. the goethe bandits - though most of our
mission was to bring heads water? ideals, plasma instruments. without
navigation reference people sculpted out. you can zoom up on identity,
if you're not too many people in-between. who seem to be growing out of
the ear, you can hang anything. being a horse, or a king, hanging from
the earth, and from our feet. light fades, everything call it night just
not to one the reality, the back side of bolts and screws loose,
whatever soap-opera being there, present, human tilted upright animal
who gives the illusion into empty space then... where no humans can
live, or not.. the know how to place or represent or vagina, unborn the
cathedral looks like pictured on pictures, the look like a garage at
times. if you had a fractal lack of detail. and think you can eat i'm
starting to taste it bit like eating, it resembles like a dream, you
have no digestion. of remainings or remainings bread.
***
***
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Russ Golata
Percontation
Let me put it to you this way
I want you to think real hard on it
If I were to pose a question
Because only you know the right answers
The ones alive in your heart
Growing wildly like a weed in the wind
So here is the question
Take as long as you want
You have waited your whole life
The question and answer…
WHEN?
***
***
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Mark Prudowsky
Love on Train Number Two
Seated across the aisle
an old man with a red face
and two eyeballs rolled back in their sockets
says: He's awful bad in pain, meaning
the dog who guides him, its hips.
Behind him, a preacher woman,
speaks in a tongue dry as unleavened bread.
Beside her, a man with bedroom eyes
translates: In the wilderness shall ye seek
to love and never unite.
At the tail end of each phrase,
preacher woman draws in quick breath.
The air filling her breast
and the sounds leaving it,
like two bellows plates, hinged.
Train Number Two rides two iron rails.
They run on forever and ever
side by side, never touching.
***
***
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Stephen Russell
A Standing Ovation
I pull my clothes from the dryer.
Separate socks from shirts and slacks.
Then I carefully, slowly iron and fold each shirt.
Then I fold the slacks.
Then I grab each pair of socks
and roll them into a little ball.
Colors, shape, texture.
Simplicity surrounds me.
I've accomplished something.
I'm an accomplished person.
I move and marvel at the way space never seems too large
for the smallest task.
The universe applauds.
I'd like to thank the universe and all of my friends
for making this moment possible.
I pull my clothes from the dryer.
Separate socks from shirts and slacks.
Then I carefully, slowly iron and fold each shirt.
Then I fold the slacks.
Then I grab each pair of socks
and roll them into a little ball.
Colors, shape, texture.
Simplicity surrounds me.
I've accomplished something.
I'm an accomplished person.
I move and marvel at the way space never seems too large
for the smallest task.
The universe applauds.
I'd like to thank the universe and all of my friends
for making this moment possible.
***
***
Monday, September 10, 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)