George Bataille

Poetry Crush

Poetry Crush.
Assignment: 10 Dead Poets (I would fuck).
Participants:

J. Hope Stein
Miracle Jones
Todd Colby
Jennifer L. Knox
Lauren Hunter
Janaka Stucky
Joanna Penn Cooper
Gabriel Don
Gregory Crosby
Lisa Marie Basile

Read it all here, over at Poetry Crush.

Sound in Space: An Essay

The amazing Amy Fusselman from Ohio Edit published my essay here.

Sound Rough!

Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.
Give me a bid.

My Amusements

I built a chamber and added some scarlet bunting
and a chicory tan sash. It gave my visitors pleasure
and enlivened their responsiveness to my cunning ways.
I used a live electric microphone to address them, always.
I put egg crate baffles on the ceiling to direct the sound
of my voice coming from the public address system.
I had them march in a circle, all three of them.
When we got tired, we slept on a huge canvas cloth
that smelled of mildew and lavender.
Every morning there was coffee and a forecast
of grief, slovenly put, but apropos of nothing.

Ride into the sun...

TWO ARRABALESQUES/PERFORMA13

In a celebration of Fernando Arrabal’s provocative oeuvre, poet Todd Colby will MC two evenings of poetry, cabaret interventions, and impromptu performances at the Bowery Poetry Club, all presided over by the legendary artist himself. Featuring interventions by Fernando Arrabal, Gage Boone, Todd Colby, Jamie Isenstein, Item Idem (aka Cyril Duval), Joseph Keckler, Irvin Climaco Morazan, and Jacolby Satterwhite.

Sunday, November 10, 9:00 pm
Monday, November 11, 9:00 pm
The Bowery Poetry Club
$15.00

For more information here.

The Missing Book of Spurs

A still from rehearsals for Marianne Vitale's "The Missing Book of Spurs"

Basically: What is My Name?

I'm thinking maybe
how do I compare to me?
So, I make movements that spell
out the alphabet, for instance
spelling out CAT with a series
of gestures: touches hat = "C"
touches lapel = "A" touches belt
buckle = "T." On the train we all
pick up on the same movement
and therein lies our unity.
I use a magic light, a blue light
pointer tool that tells people
when to CHANGE. My whole day
is choreographed with a delightful
sense of ease. Is it time for MIME?
Basically: What is my name?

Costume

Thursday Poem

The sound of crickets
slowed down to the speed of life
of humans. That is very interesting.
They sound like a ghostly choir. Who knew?
Coarse hair chopped finely into
a thin broth. The G Train is a riot.
All I need to do right now is sit
here and I can't sit still.
What really matters is the mysterious
hum of fossil fuels being burned to propel
people through space on the highway
just a hop, skip, and a jump from here.
I remember having this idea that a crazy
man lived in the woods in Georgia near
the highway. I would like to make a brief
announcement from the makers of this
poem. I would like to climb the walls
and speak into a device used for sending
messages. Oh, a scary thought. Oh, a feeling
for the Thursday air, which is cool
and refreshing. Winter is coming.
The pool in Red Hook has been drained,
leaves are swirling around the deep end
right now. Breakfast: It's a good idea.

31 Costumes That Will Make You Go Crazy

1) A child dressed as a thumbtack.
2) An elderly man dressed as a giant Cheeto.
3) A little boy dressed as a cat.
4) A Panther dressed as a little girl.
5) Athens, Greece.
6) Your dead uncle dressed as a priest.
7) Your boss dressed as a pimple.
8) A teenage boy dressed as a German Shepherd.
9) A chef dressed as an ampule of morphine.
10) A professional football player.
11) Anything that accentuates a baby's roundness.
12) A hand in a sock with a mustache.
13) A grandfather dressed as a ladybug.
14) A 21-year old male dressed as Boy George.
15) A wiener dog napping in a foam bun.
16) A grandmother dressed as a complete, fancy gym.
17) A kindergarten full of children dressed as Frankenstein.
18) A baseball player pretending to be a dolphin in olive oil.
19) A marathon runner dressed as Godzilla.
20) A college professor dressed as a lemon.
21) A piece of cake.
22) A little girl dressed as Edgar Allan Poe.
23) A bodybuilder sipping a protein smoothie.
24) A cabbie dressed as Emily Dickinson.
25) Allen Ginsberg.
26) A piece of toast with caviar.
27) A boy inside a giant graham cracker box.
28) A cat attacking a paper shopping bag.
29) A bulldog with a big pink bow for a collar.
30) Cat Power.
31) A peppermint stick in the mouth of a poet.

Rehearsing for Marianne Vitale's "The Missing Book of Spurs." Opening the last week of November.

Tickets here.

We Lump Days

I was thinking maybe an ice cube
would help relieve the muscle enough
to sooth the twitch of these pesky ethics.
I've been there, been there. So we
led folks to within pelvic distance
in order to show books and fevered conversations
accompanied by acrobats and space hooks.
We were all about elevation and gain.
We maxed out as privilege slumped
over the group. We sprayed out the slits
so they could became carbonate. They fizzled
and popped. Soggy smoke sat heavy on the summer
air, fucked. A tent full of supplies, mostly
a Corvair forum or a Thunderbird forum.
We were all about sternums and throats.
Audibly frank. Politely mutating.
Saline, volition, lobbed. A newly-spangled
voice on the sinister pop horizon.
Less chemicals, more gel of the stars,
more purple mountains, and majesty, and all that.

Performa Biennial 2013

1) I'll be MC-ing and performing for the Performa Biennial at the totally revamped Bowery Poetry Club for Fernando Arrabal's "Two Arrabaleques." Featuring Fernando Arrabal, Joseph Keckler, Jacolby Satterwhite, Jamie Isenstein, & Cyril Duval. On November 10th and 11th at 9pm.

2) I'll also be performing in Marianne Vitale's mega-performance-spectacle "The Missing Book of Spurs" in her vast studio/performance space in Long Island City (also for the Performa Biennial click link for more information & tickets). November 20, 21, 22, & 23.

XOX
Todd

Oh

The day is bright blue.
A white pigeon messes
with the cold sky
making me think
it's a hanky
tossed from a high building.

Busted Beautiful

Like, how modern would it be
to lose my cool all of a sudden?
I mean, context is everything, so
it depends on where I do it, right?
The thin radiant streams of light
are just about making the room
crack in half. Maybe a book or a balloon
could provide some distraction for a minute.
Maybe I'll get up and walk it off. Let's hug
it out, no? And then another situation
presents itself, like someone yearning
or pining in a teen movie about that stuff.
I would like to cradle my head in a sling
scented with lavender and some other calming
potion that people in a shop that sell
such concoctions tell me works. I'd like
to own a dog someday and name it Faux Fur.
I'd like to settle in for the long haul
and gravitate towards someone who refers
to herself in the 3rd person as "The Coach."

Field Guide to Plants of the North

One of my summer favorites is Fink Leaf,
which is best used as a shout propellant, much
like a telephone but without the batteries
or the acid. This fiery, medicinal leaf
can be used to dye clothing and treat ailments like drama cough
or work fever. Try the Tumbler Bell Flower
for sleep passion, or Shark's Paw for petroleum
gashes. In the shallow dirt near the shrubs around a house
foundation, find the Lime Seed for eye strain
and noise reduction (or enhancement). During the autumn months,
I always keep a satchel of Devil's Paw handy
in case of a gestural flaw, like giving finger
or blistering thumb. When winter rolls around,
I steep Blue Bonnet in a whiskey tea, which
is both sustainable and ecstatic, when used
to heighten conversation and observation.
For me, spring is the best time to roll out
the Flip Daisy, a round, slightly powdered
vacancy inducer, best used in 12-hour portals
for euphoric problem solving and garden wandering.
All of the above plants are rear stabilizers, meaning:
They possess kinked alkaloids that groove to meaning,
which is a lot like bathing in half air, half water.
Let me know how these helpful and healing plants work for you!

Tuesday Outfit

Deer leather loafers
with twin-oiled wool socks
and sugar pleated trousers
of gingham and heather balsam.
Alligator rumble belt from Tennessee.
Shirt combo of vestiture mule tone
and tan overture habiliment. Lily clamps
at sleeves and on buttons. Further
up the collar: ochre tweed with chrome
clasp engraved with the word LOVE.
As for the hat, a Winston Flowers
mock-brimmed overland lid
constructed of boiled rose felt and clapper
prism pin. I hope I see you on
the F train, delighted.

Silver Lime

Don't mistake grace for the ache of time passing.
Don't cut off your clothes in the wind. Don't cuss
in front of customers. Don't get your jelly
in your jam. Build responsible
machines. Let the aftertaste of defeat
lull you into a nap, you need one. Don't
become too repelled by beauty, it will
pass in time. Ride your bike far into the day
and the night. Reach out to the sky from
the roof of your tongue, it will all be
over soon. On a cold day let the fog of your breath
rise dumbly. Over by the river you'll find
some interesting people. Wave at a stranger
and watch what happens. If you’re sleepy
on a train in deepest Brooklyn, sleep.

Gravitas

I will rustle birds from the sky above you,
and train them to make formations
that will form letters that will tell how to do
fabulous things all day long.
I will show you how to be tasteful
on the internet with some key phrases
that will make you look approachable and friendly.
I will sing you songs of wild melodic praise. Oh, so big a
praise. I will look very professional singing my songs of praise.
I've made it. Here I am with this idea
about carrying myself professionally,
in a manner that says “pro,” just for you.
I will wrestle you free from your body during a holiday,
or what people mean when they say the word “holiday.”
Perhaps a day like this is broad and clear and steady
because I pushed it along. Perhaps I should feel free to look at it
reflected in a spoon curled just so with pink bisque
at its edges. I shall put things in motion immediately.

Top 10

1) John Wieners.

2) Gravity.

3) Performa Biennial (I'll be preforming twice!).

4) The Poetry Project.

5) Monica McClure: Mood Swing.

6) Natalie's Hand Crafted Strawberry Lemonade.

7) Nap.

8) Billy Cancel on youtube.

9) Making Vines.

10) "This team is your family."

Found

Hallelujah Anyway

I'm going to build something vast and spongy
and invite you in. If you're too busy or distracted
to come in, then I'll just undulate around you politely.
When I pour water on my house it hisses.
I'll paint my monster truck silver and cover the dents
with Bondo and gold leaf. The fog of my breath is a narcotic
and you are putting your face in it. How do you feel now?
I'll bring you out to the garden and show you
the stones I moved around. I'll take you to my forest
with orange dust storms. You like that, don't you?
I can dance around your life better
than anyone you've ever seen do that sort of thing.
I mean: I can really move in a dazzling fashion.
I'm warning you in this poem. I want you to be prepared
and surprised. I want to blow on your candles
and watch them flutter. I'm made of fur and balsam
and you are on my wish list. My machine is warm and sparkling,
so get in my truck, we’re going somewhere fast.

Weehawken?

That's where they dispose of old robots, right? I've been through there. There are some nice people there. Small people, but nice, very nice. I delivered a talk about robots there once to a group of Weehawkens who had gathered in a small sweltering gathering room where they gather. I remember the tiny folding chairs, the miniature fruit punch bowl, and the tiny cookies in a huge Costco bag that I had to help them carry in from their tiny car. Yeah, they’re good people (though small), and Weehawken is a good town (though it smells like old robots).

The Bone Above the Heart

At first it’s just words I use
to describe the light, and then the sensation
of the light, if one can call it that. I’m ready
for the light, if you can deliver the light.
I’m open to the sensation of being shone upon
or just moving through the light, but there’s the sensation
of wanting to hold the light or caress the light in such
a manner that maybe I’m airborne for an instant.
And then I get this lifting sensation
just under the bone above the heart.

Velvet Underground - Sister Ray (Boston 3/15/69)

Team Hand

Deep in the crystal aftermath of my dawn
people spill from rooms onto marble floors
in the lobby. They ask for chipped beef and clotted cream
as though that would help them navigate the day
without biting their own forearms.
People here are bigger and louder than they are back home.
While talking, they move in a way that implies
that they are not as smart as you, or grandiose.
Remember: it is their hands doing the talking
and not their mouths. Of course this is a trick.
Everyone knows the human voice emits the pleasure
of words that can make your hand open when someone
whispers onto the knuckles of your fist.
The next time I talk to you, I’d prefer to speak to your hand.