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Tag Archives: Photography
in my neighborhood
At the end of the film I’m on my back staring at the night sky… The man who helped me is lying nearby—his mouth bloody… We’re lost in a thick fog of tear gas—the sky disappears above us—the occupation failed… … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Chance Operations, Creative Writing, Documentation, Drama is the Opiate of the Masses, Dream Notation, Experimental film, Experimental video, Experimental writing, Flash Fiction, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing
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nothing in between
Once Blue I was once blueIn my black converse IsolateInchoateAnd nothing in between “So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can … Continue reading
in my neighborhood
You wear your indecision well. Your coterie of suitors vexed— Working out your complex geometry. Your heart a cipher— Hermetic / unbreakable. “I want to be free to try things that don’t make sense yet. I put materials together that … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Chance Operations, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Documentation, Drama is the Opiate of the Masses, Dream Notation, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing
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in my neighborhood
A hiss marked the moment Of the dissolution within Blanched images of featureless heads We breathed / we clawed / we panted From the depths of unsung parametersFrom the blue strictures of freedom As we lost face Mouth / eyes … Continue reading
in my neighborhood
Step into the Muse’s shoes— What is this place? What does it mean? Work in your own small corner— A better place in the midst of a slow apocalypse. “All I remember is my mother’s tears and my empty stomach. … Continue reading
who no one
The Dry Descent (redux) He hears a cry—the lamentation of a dying man. He turns, strains, to see. Who? No one. He staggers on scree and falls heavy on his back; his poles useless after two thousand miles. The sky … Continue reading
soft and hot
After Gas Huffing Cold in my tent last night—Moved away from the creekCloser to the fire. I heated up the plastic Jesus—Placed it soft and hotOn my abdomen. Cold again this morning—I bit into the messiah—No sign of life. “like … Continue reading
flecky eyefuls jaundice
What You Said at N+15 What could I possibly say when you say (backhand): it’s you. I don’t know if you’re talking twang, talking to those radicals, or if you’re addressing me. Somehow, judging by the tonsure of your vole, … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Chance Operations, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dada, Drama is the Opiate of the Masses, Dream Notation, Erasure Poetry, Experimental writing, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing
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happy three to thee
huh? wha’? wha’ happened?! While I wasn’t paying attention this endeavor turned two years old, on 11/17/21, and quickly shifted into its third year of existence … Hey, hurray, harrumph! This is still: thee istsfor manity reader And this remains … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Chance Operations, Collage, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Documentation, Dream Notation, Experimental something, Experimental writing, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Post-Apocalypse, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing
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the original skin
Writing Us into Existence I. He took off his shoes and the right pinkie was exposed — nude, malformed, and smelling like Limburger from six feet away. A couple of wiry hairs arcing over the sock. She, on the other … Continue reading