Textures & Discrepancies

Wikipedia Poem, No. 533

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“Beyond the wild myrtle away from cats I turned him loose / and his eye asked me what to do, where to go” A.R. Ammons

debord jp
sarte
male writers
kenneth adrip
goldsmith evanescent
a substance despised
feeling
the
w

twenty ten is divided by
gwathmey
siegel & associates and a
terrace
on the
winner
is a
fall prize and a
terrace

earliest known club membership
often refer to
switch to they were
native

of no eternal significance
language used over
the shift to
go about weaving changes and
many tender
ibids

Did You Mean Más o Menos?

Wikipedia Poem, No. 510

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“How about an oak leaf / if you had to be a leaf?” James Schuyler

c
short
sea suicid
ahis bed wie he
cha them all n euticals
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point—heuicidal ornd the rooith this lth this
looke with cd he was drette and t with charalled
him t to the ces at someke with chchelsea
where tth charles at some pll whetherr
the all whethabsentmind took themea
absentmid the roomat some po
up the das bed withs
suicidalent to
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anded him he a lot of p
to the chrles i wend he was d suicidal
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hechelsea wh charles iint—he toodid what aint—he
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ady instalte and theinstalled t up the dor
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ohelsea wheay after iely
smokint of pharmwent
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anyboy up the point—he f
pharmacem went up r it’s suig
a cigareed he was all wheth smoking
atminded hee and dainstalled he took thinded
he wtely smokiroom went ere they hoint—he toe
was lyin point—he ceuticals the day afe was
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at s absentmin had alreae took the’s
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whetherether it’sefinitely
some poind he was
with this hairhad
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all whetheirtook
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at soes i went em all wheitely smokrmaceuticawas
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day afterlled him hroke with che took
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had alme point—hefinitely
ely smokininitely smok
them albed with t
day aftere with
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of em all whehim he
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whetherd
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fly
hi
i

Dennis Doherty

doherty

Everything
Have I seen you bikini'd?
The air solidifies around the sound
Of your waxed body     A love song 


Yes
The men smoldering on the sidewalk
Have a conversation about Hades 
Reduced to vapor     Southwest Virginia


Nothing
Encasement of cultural cache in nylon
Tied in a neat knot between keen
Shoulder blades      Pale duvet on fire

Wikipedia Poem, No. 136

neworleans

“The minority groups in present-day industrial society who shout for freedom and human dignity are really clumsily asking that they be given a sense of primary heroism of which they have been cheated historically.” Ernest Becker

 

Eat broken dreams
And water their tiresome sit-ups swimming
Go to town to do schoolwork arend go to town

For umbrellas of Scotch for 5 p.m. errands
At the state liquor store tiresome sit-ups
Swimming takes me to town for pushups

All right time and hunger and swimming pools
Which I get home and hunger and water
At the tiresome details to what ten towns

Run errands do pushups and swim
Lean and buff water $5 a fifth at the nearby
Municipal swimming unmoored like

A middle-aged man like me
Like jazz lots of Scotch too town
There are when I do arrange myself

To myself it was heart-breaking that pool which
I took with supper eating broken dreamers, dearest Jane

 


Sources: 

Simons, Seth. “From Winston Churchill to Tim Cook: 
      The Sleep Routines of 7 Brilliant Minds.” Van Winkle’s. 
      Casper, 17 Feb. 2016. Web. 21 Feb. 2016.

“Love.” Dir. Dean Holland. Netflix. 19 Feb. 2016. Streaming video.

Becker, Ernest. The Denial of Death. New York: Free Press, 1973. Print.

Notes from a dream, 1215-172013

(over my shoulder/from a dream)

12162013

1. “Ashuver Sixlio”

2. “As I failed to shoot the dog”

3. Lot of dreams tonight. I curse myself for not waking to sketch them along the way. But last among them:

On the streets of NYC, with Andrew as sort of assistant, photographing the street. Lots of people. Smiles but also secret shooting of the homeless and glamorous at perfect unobserved rest. Anyway, at some vague point we encounter a group of 8 to 10 girls aged 16 to 22 (I intuitively know/guess) and they start to follow us. Flirting at the same time annoying and gadflying. We welcome the attention, the company, the shared energy, but they are a distraction, clogging the sidewalk as we try to navigate through without too much negative juju coming our psychic way.

Andy and I stop at some point to deal with an equipment issue and the sirens swarm, smoking, making my lens change more difficult than it needs to be. One of them, a young brunette all soft lines, most devious bodied, the youngest, most supple bodied, stands in front of me. Me, two feet from her burning Camel Light. The sweet smoke passing between us without burning my eyes. She won’t stop talking; so much more than talking: sexualizing forth, weaponizing, poking me with her untouchable womaness. Clouds me. And I’m trying to change that god damned lens, not let any of her smoke into the camera body. Fuddling with lens caps.

An ash, like a perfect snowflake (it had been snowing now IRL for two days), falls from her cigarette to her dimpled chin and, as if that ash were a universally understood cue, I kiss her lips with such quick aggression that she takes a step back. Unbalanced/shocked. Gives me a moment of much-needed distance.

The hip girls all snicker and chat, one says something to no one: “Oh my god, she’s only 15.” But no harm done. I lock in the wide angle lens and we all move on.