Saturday, March 17, 2018
Visions
One. And Done.
-My editor wants your vision
in words our readers get.
-Vision? Ponderous word to
face the world with!
-Bear with me.
-I just paint.
-Yes! Exhibit One, this Wawa Hoagie
so real I want to devour it! Ham,
Swiss, Lettuce, Tomatoes, Onion!
Mayo-o-o-o!
-Me too.
-And Exhibit Two! This...thing.
-Same hoagie.
-I don’t wish to devour it.
-I do, and much else there.
-And not there?
-Especially.
-I’m getting this on tape, you know.
If you’d care to focus.
-Whole world’s on tape! Who gives a shit?
-If you do, it’s vaguely. Help me out here!
-Something more specific?
-Just a bit.
-Nippur was the Capital of Babylonian
Religion for three thousand years.
-Hooray for the Nippurians! But we’re
dealing with Americans who put bread
on the table.
-Hooray for them!
Labels: abstraction, art, artist, culture, exposition, painter, painting, realism
Thursday, October 15, 2015
A Baby in Something
Just One Crisis
Hopey, somehow, became a sort of project
manager for the new condos being built
for artists.
He had been merely one who scraped a
down-payment for an efficiency apartment.
The Plumbers Union president astounded by pulling
his members from the site!
Shouting at Hopey “It’s a 14E job and you want 14!”
What could that mean? He went into the plans on his
computer, but could find nothing.
Then he became paralyzed. Hours fled. Finally called
the only true adult he knew. A former big man who
knew others. “You sound like a dove that flew into the
side of a building. He looks dead, then staggers
a bit, but in the end, flies away!”
“I’m...looking dead!”
A scheme hatched where this Smit would phone a city bigshot.
In An entirely different department, but he, in turn, knew
who else to call.
Plus, Hopey had to reach as many people as possible
at Licenses and Inspections.
He did, re 14, 14E, and was soaked and dazed at the end.
The following day, the union guy came to his cramped
office and screamed. Hopey screamed back. Both men
grew exhausted and the union chief finally whispered,
“We’ll all come back tomorrow, but you’re absolutely
assuring me the work lands between 14 and 14E.
I don’t want any freakin legalities!”
Hopey phoned his new mentor that night to thank him.
He sensed an atmosphere of patient realism, and thus
exclaimed “I know. I know! I’m a baby!”
“Everybody’s a baby in something. You grow up
because people depend on you.”
“Don’t! Don’t depend on me! Ever! I can’t fuckin stand it!”
“Do you believe in God?”
Dead air, and then “No.”
“Too bad.”
Labels: artist, baby, condos, contract, God, handling conflict, legalities, plumber, Union
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Art in the Modern World...
or something
-I’m Literature here!
Thus proclaims Clance.
-Well you better figure out what the fuck you’re doing?
All mixed up with bits and megs, and wondering where
to pander--if just TV.
-A confusing time, of course, but read my poems.
-Why?
-Cuz you can’t stop asking what is it,
instead of just making a visit.
-We ain’t got time!
Labels: art, artist, computer, Literature, poet, poetry, TV
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Charging Towards Perfection
Her Mind
Glor told Mark it was over, so he returned to his wife
and babies.
And to Ice! No, really. Ice Storm of the Century! Thus,
with Nelly at night school, he sat in the empty house
as it lost power, and contemplated both his lust and
fetching the children the following day from her mother's,
aka Dragon's Lair.
Glor, or course, had simply changed her mind. Again.
The voracious sex lasted five months this time, and Ralph-
the-Mechanic had won the pool at Kippy's Kool Kup, since
it didn't go six.
She became busy writing tiny missives now, to leave in the produce
section of the Acme. To be read by Cal, the young manager.
Poems actually, though lost to posterity when dumped into the
wrong box, of old TV Fan Magazines, by mistake.
One endured. The best one, luckily. Placed in oranges.
Blue?
Try someone new!
Clever lads find such poets, and Cal not long after rented a
bungalow on Appletree Lane.
Glor, this time, went total domestic! Aprons, Apple Pies, even his
lunchtime visits proved more flouncy, though hurried.
"She has found happiness at last!" proclaimed the Professor from
his canted stool at Kippy's.
But, she changed her mind. Lasted over a year though, and no one
won the pool.
Last--in the secular realm--a cyber millionaire installed her among
the old Pac Mens and a roller rink in his loft apartment-office.
He supplied her with iPhones and iPads no mattter how many she lost.
But...that life was not for her. All the WORKING while pretending it's fun.
She had changed her mind. Since the pool had rolled over, it became
even more interesting when the commissioner ruled that the cyber-guy one was improperly set up. So, another rollover!
Serious money! And he also ruled that anyone who stayed must
throw in an additional hundred. No one left, harder on the Professor,
since the state recently halved his retirement check.
The rules this time: One was to write a two-word depiction of Glor's next move.
Accomplished, and placed in the greasy tub that Slippery Skinny
had brought from the Roxy after devouring the popcorn therein.
When she announced, the new contents would be solemnly
brought out.
She did!
And the winner was Nun, Nepal.
Glor said Thailand, but the commissioner ruled close enough!
Hector Watts, the deathly quiet accountant, took home a couple
of thousand or so!
Actually, Glor, ultimately rejected both exotic locales--"Stinking
long ride on a stinking airplane!"--for Jersey City.
Mother Superior Veronica-Marie was taken by this serial sinner
with a burning vocation!
Everybody always was infatuated by our Glor, the Church only
the latest to break down.
And such a novice! Holy too small a term!
Well. Okay. This one not profaned by a pool, but she, uh,
changed her mind before the point of no return. Again.
In a first, went back to the Cyber Dude. There a third of
the floorspace devoted to her painting studio with its
garish abstracts, and Super-Morning-Six has interviewed
her and shown her work.
We are not surprised, having seen her artistic side with the poetry.
Good Morning America wanted to come in too, but she
snubbed them at the last minute.
Too immersed in painting her life. Her Life! LIFE!
Labels: abstract, art, artist, betting pool, change mind, cyber, painting, poetry, sex
Saturday, January 26, 2013
When TV Interviewed
the older artist,
he brought age
spots, mushed nose, pig
ears, & fanning hairs fey
director backlit.
Too late for him
who pushed fairest
beauty in flaming
prime? (How even men
started by haughty
candids then!)
Dashed as painter
through a slashing
world! & why not
reprise these now?
Get real.
Labels: art, artist, fame, fashion, TV, youth
