Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Three Sailors

Monday, January 30, 2012


Scoop pine chips into a small brass ash bucket.
Tremble before a white cup with a blue stripe where
my lips touch. A kernel of something yellow
snatches the corner of my eye. From a rooftop
steam or smoke floats sideways to the river.
Cars, hundreds of them, going somewhere
urgently. The refrigerator hums mournfully.
Seven pillows stacked high on the sofa: moss
green, two lime, two striped ones, an orange
one, and that old scratchy purple one on top.
It is Monday, I need to let the monkeys out.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Curious Orange

The best way to dance to The Fall
is in my old gray Muji pajamas.
It's squishy in the hole in my head
though when I itch back there
I feel a thrilling twinge of forgetfulness.
Lumpy Brooklyn Saturday news
comes in fantasy pancake form with eggs.
I preen in the mirror like someone
would preen in the movies. My messy
heart is a bad habit smeared all over
my face. Now I'm walking around
my apartment looking for something
interesting and smooth. Now I'm
washing the dishes and mumbling
"This is great! I'm alive in Brooklyn!"

Cassady & Kerouac

Friday, January 27, 2012

Local Whirl

Let us cure what humping brown air
does for you. Fluttering with tools is one
way to champion the afterlife. I prefer
the written document with a clear
protective case for safety while reading.
During all the mornings I stood facing
the highway, I was able to dodge the sloppy bits
in a cycle of woe that was easy to dismantle. You
are protected from the slow slug of dawn
by a feathered mask a friend loaned you
before the crash. Grind into the local whirl
while being lit so precisely that your eyes ache blue.
I will bend for you, even break for you.
All the days are wobbly because the center
where the spindle goes through the disc
is off center. You are such a star, but your equation
is zero. You stop, look up, and sigh.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Three Street Shots

Early in my situation
I felt my reluctance to have movement.
When the stage of triumph came
I maintained my skin as it degraded. I filled my sling
with petroleum jelly to avoid the pain of the rope.
I went for the win until I remembered
my head in difficult circumstances.
I still have a long way to go
before moving into the area of ​​silky peace
far from the delicate lamb Oxfords,
desires, and orchids. My heart aches when I see
the frayed pink stitching on the mat in front of my door.
I keep my ice meat in the snow.
Shortly before the blast of silence, I increased my speed
while the landscape came to me.
Flash fade in the street shots.

Early in my plight I felt my indecision to be a saddle.
And then the stitching grew larger than the leather
it was holding together. I filled my arm sling
with petroleum jelly to stave off the ache from the ropes.
I was riding triumphantly until I remembered
it was early in my plight; I still had a ways to go
before moving into the delicate clime of humid oxfords
and orchid lust. My heart beat maximally when I saw
the pink stitching on my saddle getting frayed.
I sustained myself on ice meat as I stood in the snow wet street.
Right before my bloom into silence I sped along
while the landscape came up to meet me.
A faint flash in the slaphappy streets.

Early in my situation I felt my indecision
to be a saddle. And then the seam of larger things
cracked Leather WAS Maintained united.
I filled my support of the arm with the oil
for frost stave except the pain of the rope. I
Went up triumphing up so That I Were Remembered
Yields in my situation, I had a method still I HAD to go
to the wet clime Before moving in delicate oxfords
and lust of the orchids. My heart beat maximally
When I saw pink in my saddle SEWS That Comic consumed.
I felt myself Supported in the meat of the ice
as long as I was fastened to the street of wet snow.
Right Before the explosion in silence That I hurried
When The landscape Finds came up with me.
A weak flash in the streets slaphappy.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Monday Top 10

1) Love Goes to Buildings on Fire: Five Years in New York That Changed the Music World Forever by Will Hermes.

2) On The Nature of Things by Lucretius (Translated by Frank O. Copley).

3) Downton Abbey, I drank the koolaide.

4) Raleigh Denim.

5) Goose Barnacle on Atlantic Avenue.

6) Mast Brothers Chocolate (Maine Sea Salt).

7) Cobble Hill, Brooklyn.

8) The Yoghurt Boys.

9) The Marbled Swarm by Dennis Cooper.

10) This version of "Like a Rolling Stone" (Dylan and The Band are on fire):

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Hennessy Youngman - ART THOUGHTZ: Beuys-Z

It's a Sister Nancy morning

Friday, January 20, 2012

Express Yourself

The man whispers to an animal
in the dark apartment
full of squishy things like
Aerosmith and Cheap Trick.
Slabs of butter on the table
set for bread dice like in the olden
days when people played games
for what they'd eat. In the special temple
of forgiveness the leader dude
is all recumbent and enthused
because your disguise is working
as well as his. You build machines
and they come to life, in fact, they become
your friends and you take care of them
in the dark. In the warp and weft
of these nightly incursions into the slop
you got it going on and you are all that.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Lighten Up

Feel Good

It should feel good
for grilling pork neck.
Try actually automobile gas.
Should not be good
to burn dry your cheek bones.
Try this - THIS is dry.
I like when I turn things on
and they work out.
I'll go now.
I'll show you how to rub
the surface with sweet honey.
Spill new t.v. Forró.
Caro syrup squishing against her rendezvous Shoes.
Walk. Walk on water, they gin a duck
to a Fine point dock a point in IT.
You are lucky I'm giving you this.
I'll now go.
I'll a show you how
I feel gold.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Wooster Group

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Marianne Vitale in The New York Observer

I was interviewed recently by art writer Michael H. Miller for this piece on Marianne in The New York Observer. Lots of sweet memories.

Click here.



Everything You Need to Know

\The wagon comes rolling
down the hill with you in it.
The pull handle is propped up so it rests
between your legs. You think
you can turn the wagon. You think\

Monday, January 16, 2012

Sunday, January 15, 2012


Click on image to enlarge.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Friday Top 10

1) Vicky Swanky Is a Beauty by Diane Williams.

2) The Flame Alphabet by Ben Marcus.

3) Richard the III at BAM (we got tickets!).

4) Kenya Gatomboya by Stumptown Coffee.

5) Early Plays by The Wooster Group/New York City Players (we got tickets!).

6) Peanut Butter Bomb by Wild Ginger.

7) 50 mph Winds Blowing Around NYC Right Now.

8) Pina Bausch film by Wim Wenders, tonight at BAM (we got tickets!).

9) Early Music Show on WKCR.ORG.

10) Happy Birthday, Dad!

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Laurie Anderson

Kind One

Oh, kind one
soot on your branches
coughing phlegm into a napkin
swallow hard these birds
all the mystic you can assemble
is caustically rubbing off your features
to the tune of rubber on asphalt
squealing out you were notified
of my progress halting only
to reveal more than you can digest.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Kim Gordon, 1976

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Good Night

You wash your hands with lemons
and dry them with toast. You wake up
in the middle of the night and walk backwards
down the hall. The moon rattles in the sky
unhinged by wind and debris. Cars hum
in tune with the blood flowing in your neck.
The radio plays news as though from somewhere
in the past: the playroom from your childhood.
You can point to a spot on your body
and communicate with others through that spot.
The blue veins in your arms form letters. I am lost
in your code. You are evolving with reptilian certitude. A finger
in your ass. You speak from a deep place. You know
just what to say and you are saying it to everyone
who will listen in accordance with your listening rules.
The rewards you will reap are unimaginable.

Black Mirror (Barge Performance)- Doug Aitken Workshop

Monday, January 09, 2012

Manhattan Poem

Friday, January 06, 2012


Thursday, January 05, 2012

Happy Literary Heroes Day

Wednesday, January 04, 2012

Pitching Woo

If someone wants to hold your hand
make sure they know where we are at war.
My eyes are even more colorful
than the glow of your iPad.
To get an idea of ​​what is right for
you, ask me to get over it. Advertising agency.
You would not (maybe) ask an arm
to be around you. No, you would
talk to the ear in order to ask about the arm
that you want around you.
That's the way asking works.

Tuesday, January 03, 2012

Tuesday Top 10

1) The 38 Annual Poetry Project New Year's Day Reading. Photos here.

2) Only Love Can Break Your Heart by David Samuels.

3) United Placebo by Todd Colby.

4) Officine Creative.

5) 2012.

6) Feeling okay about "blanking out."

7) Finding a costume I can believe in.

8) Megan Boyle.

9) Diane Williams.

10) "Let's Go Eat the Factory" by Guided by Voices.

Monday, January 02, 2012

Last Poem

What a beautiful new rhythm.
This pulse is plenty
our bodies and the pale liquid inside
bitter as peach scented pillows.
The real, a catalog
of unevolved spirits from
things themselves, but our
impressions of them. Closing
arms along the river, delicate
pieces of brightly colored silk flags
in the salty wind.
You fall from a mountain top
to another, you run with a radio
and then one day you just walk around.
I came back and said why do you not stay here?
I've never been around when things started
but I've done my part and I'm sick of endings.
I live in a world where goodness is in most things,
you just have to look harder.
The sky looks awful with all that sun and blue.
See my section of the forest?
I smile on them, can be cut.
Robust, successful, young evergreens.
I understand the beautiful sounds
of cosmetics and how they act in the mind.
Oh, my descendants: life is strange when
you are still alive.