A couple of months ago I purchased the collected works of Joan Didion at Strand Books in Union Square. It was in a New York fury of a day, and after throwing it on a credit card along with another book by Marc Maron, I felt much psychic relief. Now I have reference to the decades of insight from an authority on incisive, California-informed cultural … Continue reading plaque
One Sunday ago, after work I strolled over to witness the mass of artists, publishers, and small presses at MoMA PS1 for the New York Art Book Fair. This was my first. It retained the excitement of the book fairs that would pop up every year at my elementary school–a temporary store of colorful, educational tools which would be a class requirement to attend. Except at … Continue reading The Other Corner: PS1 Books Inspire
Oh precipitate oh curlicue leave oceans so blue rhyme in time bending light in a frame. Oh reference oh curlicue swerve like letter curves signaling through the flame. Continue reading curlicue (poem)
for my brunette ladies. ________ sorry I’m not that pretty blonde I’m a raging brunette I’m not the one to hold your hand mine are too dirty with other men sorry I’m not that pretty blonde I’m the raging brunette you know you’ve always wanted but for some reason couldn’t have I said I was happy for you but I’m not … Continue reading brunette (poem)
I wonder what a Sunday kind of love should bring? A few flowers? A free shower? Too much sweat and not enough ice. A long, slow drag on a cigarette, bouncing around on a lip before all hell breaks loose. Letting it. Let it. Go. 10.6.13 Continue reading Letting it (poem)
Underwater Tour Once I saw two fish in a spin, considering, as an option, pirouettes and pas de chats in exchange for fin flips and schools. Did they land on their own two fins or flop onto the seashore? The madrigal crabs sang two tunes, haunting the harmonies and clicking polyphony, with the left and right claws respectively. Continue reading underwater tour (poem)
Today I came across a poem I chose to forget. It was written during a time when all I could do was pour the fantasy into a poem, and then a few months later a song. I’ll let you know when I have the guts to share the music. Ten Fantasies In No Particular Order Four. Some Saturday night. Alone at a concert I bump … Continue reading Ten Fantasies in No Particular Order (poem)
It’s June, and I’m finally dusting off the blog. Here are my obligatory apologetic first two lines. In doing so, along with purging e-mails and a glass of beer, I’ve come across a few gems of ideas and more importantly a few lists in some e-mail drafts. List 1: Tattoo Country My concept for a tattoo has long been the same: Get a tattoo for … Continue reading Treasures Untold in e-mail Drafts
I don’t remember seeing it at night. It would look like the groom at a wedding, in his black tuxedo with only a crest of foaming shirtfront. Of course when I lived just a block away from the ocean in Laguna Beach, or in Solano Beach, California I must have seen it often at night. But I have a hard time pulling the image to … Continue reading Remembering the Pacific by Diane Wakoski
It doesn’t always have to be abstract phenomenons living so far away from an ideal that the levee breaks, and the American Apparel factory burns down, all the overpriced softcore porn clothing disappearing from our consumerism, except for everything that we’re all already wearing. Continue reading Tidbits #2
