Here you are.
- Watering Hole
It’s been a while since I posted anything here.
This, then, is one of those “it’s been a while since I posted anything here” posts. I’ve been meditating, working, making some music and listening to mix cds, and playing host to friends and friends of friends. For the purposes of this blog, I’ll have new graphic work to display here (to eulogize my springtime daylight hours with) soon. Also, I finished a writing exercise. Here it is: wateringhole. I’d love to get feedback from where the poetry-reading public and the blog-reading public intersect, if such an overlap exists.
By the way, here’s a recording of Keith Fullerton Whitman’s October 2005 performance at the Galeria Zé Dos Bois in Lisbon, entitled Lisbon. I mostly listened to nothing but this while writing most of what’s alluded to above.
- This morning choose work/ over sleep
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- Effing
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- La Lune de Miel on Chine
I’ve been posting sparsely while home in Boulder for the holidays. Once the reorganizing, prioritizing, and atoning is done, Carrotrope.com will be a better reflection of my interests. If you care about the music in language, fashion and design, you should read this blog.
To keep things tidy and whole for myself, I’ve imported some of my poetry from an old, unseen site. I’d love to get some diplomatic but honest feedback (ok, I yearn for it). Go to Poems for poems written by me. Poetry includes my poems, musings on poetry and language, and poems I love of others. Expect songs by me and myfriends, as I pull myself together.
Otherwise, I’ll continue to post on fabric, fashion, and design as Molly, her brother and I (a.k.a. Adapt Apparel) ramp up sales. Designs that go on shirts and skirts and posters will all make appearances here.
I’ll continue to post on economics, business, branding, and “responsible capitalism” as I continue to work for Interra and attend BGI.
I’ll continue to share songs that I find meaningful (like today’s, a catchy-as-hell recent creation by my friend Sam Cooper, called “La Lune de Miel on Chine”).
- The Residency
“there is no profit under the sun… For who will eat and who will hasten [to swallow it] except me?” —Ecclesiastes
thoughts rot in the head
stories defragment
always, i am 1000 strong
vanitas vanitatum et omnia vanitas
- Letter
you gather the ducks,
and tell them one by one, their names.
you teach chicken pox to scar, harder. (more…)
- Letter
The saint, we, flayed.
I’m a pile of nervous skin.
You an ascending blaze of sanctum.
Thousands flail, in observance of you.The thread, us, frayed.
You are a rainbow/brown braid.
Tied to your finger is a knot that reminds you of yourself.
I’m a brown rain brain.
Families of animals devour themselves behind my eyelids.
Podunk spiderwebs cross my mind, a public derelict.
My brain, an empty scrotum, fathers nothing.
- Lieder ship, leaden ship
I’d pour vast spaces
(E.g. insides of harps, skies)
With heart-colored roseblood. (more…)
- one-off 6
My second walk of the day, or
my sixth way of walking, which is to say
I’m in need of something. I’ve forgotten why I came here;
why in the first place, and why today.
