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Meta
Tag Archives: Poetry
Here, Now
All is a mutable feast, a panoply and paragon of lore and dropped beats, of here, and not here, all at once— effect upon the cause are the visionary takes of the radiant children, sampling source-feed from stunning slates of … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
Tagged beat goes on, children of the moon, into the mystic, moonstruck, music, poem, Poetry, seasons, visionaries
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Buster
(April Fool’s Day, 2025: a haiku in honor of the Great Stoneface, Buster Keaton.) The lot of the fool–a fresh bouquet of flowersdelivered too late.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged april fool's, buster keaton, clown spirit, haiku, poem, Poetry, sacred fools, slapstick
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Sonata of the I
The hatless pilgrim, roving this way and that, a man embodying the virtues of scat (in every sense of the word), roving through starched cardstock fields in search of an impossible flower and its stingy nettles—proud, pistil-engraved, the flower’s gullet … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged fiction, music, pilgrimage, Poetry, Prose, samuel beckett, self, solipsistic kicks, sonata, story, variations on I, what's in a name
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Pilgrimage of the I
A hatless pilgrim, roving this way and that, a man embodying the virtues of scat (in every sense of the word), wandering through starched cardstock fields in search of an impossible flower and its stingy nettles— proud, pistil-engraved, the flower’s … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged fiction, ghosts, I, poem, Poetry, road trip, samuel beckett, self, solipsism, vaudeville, wanderer, writing
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Samuel Beckett
Posted in Audio, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Theater, Video
Tagged lyrics to go, poem, Poetry, samuel beckett, Spoken Word, verses from the abstract
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Beckett’s Sonata
A hatless pilgrim, roving this way and that, a man embodying scat (in every sense of the word), wandering through starched cardstock fields in search of a stingy flower, proud, pistil-engraved, the flower’s gullet scorched by streaks of sungold (this, … Continue reading
Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Theater
Tagged fiction, Godot's godchildren, krapp, malone, mercier et camier, molloy, murphy, Poetry, Prose, samuel beckett, travel, writing
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Sphinx
Convicted sphinx to beguiling raptures, and time-spanned sync-holes, literary enigma, Clarice Lispector, understood keenly the tolling of ruptures within, sowing breath’s metered and fasting threads to the fractional seethe of holy and lent.
Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged clarice lispector, poem, Poetry, sphinx, writer
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Because the Night
In lyrical, abetted praise of Patti Smith, white witch torchbearer of punk mettle and lightning bones— She, wildly grown and gutter-starred, remains in love and swelling thrall to the Romantic timbre and clash of Rimbaud’s unrelenting wake, or Plath’s penning … Continue reading
Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose
Tagged music, patti smith, photo, poem, Poetry, praise, rimbaud, robert mappelthorpe, rock and roll, Stars, Sylvia Plath, thank you, vision
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Bolano and Me
Last night I dreamed of Roberto Bolaño. Or he of me. We were sitting at a dimly lit café, a subterranean plot of a café, and Bolaño was drinking chamomile tea. In the latter stages of his life chamomile tea … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged boxing, cafe, chamomile tea, chile, creative-writing, dream, fiction, Literary, literature, poem, Poetry, roberto bolano, writer's life, writing
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