Tag Archives: Collage

urgently transition away

Posted on May 17, 2025 by istsfor manity

Memorable Stuff I Read This Week The climate crisis is threatening the future of the world’s most popular fruit, as almost two-thirds of banana-growing areas in Latin America and the Caribbean may no longer be suitable for growing the fruit … Continue reading →

Posted in Writing | Tagged Chance Operations, Collage, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dream Notation, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Maine, Microfiction, Nonfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Quotes, Writing | Leave a comment

like a golem

Posted on January 5, 2025 by istsfor manity

Memorable Stuff I Read This Week I LOST MY LEFT ARM today. It came off clean at the shoulder. Janice 2 picked it up and brought it back to the hotel. I would have thought it would affect my balance … Continue reading →

Posted in Writing | Tagged Chance Operations, Collage, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dream Notation, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Found Poetry, Microfiction, Nonfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Quotes, Writing | Leave a comment

ghastly hands perched

Posted on December 24, 2024 by istsfor manity

Manos: A Slice of My Memories (a blackout poem) Christmas was sheer terror. Every year as dark descended,my mother appeared — ghastly hands perched at the end of the tableancient twins— A slice of fixed mistrust. Father an assortment of … Continue reading →

Posted in Writing | Tagged Blackout Poetry, Chance Operations, Collage, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dream Notation, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Microfiction, Nonfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Quotes, Writing | Leave a comment

when mama was moth

Posted on November 23, 2024 by istsfor manity

(continued) 31 pieces of the auto-sedition quilt (xxii — xxv) Cool handbills posted in Maria’s neighborhood say: Every first Thursday Jesus Drinks Free: free Soul, R n B, Country, and Gospel starting at 8pm at the Jeannie Johnson Pub and … Continue reading →

Posted in Writing | Tagged Chance Operations, Collage, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dream Notation, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Microfiction, Nonfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Quotes, Writing | Leave a comment

you are like the tuber of calcaneus

Posted on November 22, 2024 by istsfor manity

(continued) 31 pieces of the auto-sedition quilt (xvii — xxi) On 19 January 2020 Maria wrote in her journal: It’s been six days since I fell through the crack. I’m spiraling down depression way again. The crack has been widening and if … Continue reading →

reminds me of dr. strangelove’s voice

Posted on November 21, 2024 by istsfor manity

(continued) 31 pieces of the auto-sedition quilt (xiii — xvi) “I’m from the northern part of the state, and we don’t see this kind of nonsense up there. It’s just not done this way where I’m from.” Milton Sosquade, the boy’s … Continue reading →

Posted in Writing | Tagged Chance Operations, Collage, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dream Notation, Experimental writing, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Microfiction, Nonfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Quotes, Writing | Leave a comment

my kickshaw rickshaw

Posted on November 20, 2024 by istsfor manity

(continued) 31 pieces of the auto-sedition quilt (ix — xii) On day three of the new year Maria found herself near Holguin, Cuba. The campesinos in the fields seemed appropriate for the campestral scene she was painting, but the kestrel nailed … Continue reading →

a penchant for pariah perplexes

Posted on November 19, 2024 by istsfor manity

(continued) 31 pieces of the auto-sedition quilt (v – viii) On the last day of 2019 he told me: “It was sometime in October of 1940, when Mom was a five-month-old fetus, that she developed the egg that would one … Continue reading →

what you say? what’s this stain here?

Posted on November 18, 2024 by istsfor manity

31 pieces of the auto-sedition quilt (i – iv) These were the first words Garcilazo spoke when Maria finished drilling the hole in his head: This is plundergraphia. This is Flarf. This is Newlipo. This borders on Google-sculpting. Remove me from myself and then … Continue reading →

it was aged

Posted on October 31, 2024 by istsfor manity

thee queer rib she saidit’s too late for the mushroom caveit’s over nowwe missed the mushroom cavethe last trip done gone a man dressed like a pink sheepor was he a hairy pigproferring scallions and gingersaid is thisyour first date … Continue reading →