Thursday, December 27, 2007

News

2 poems up at Octaves #1
3 poems up at Milk
2 poems up at Apocryphaltext


coming soon:

La Petite Zine (three images)


Still working on chapbook of collected poetry and diagram art, μῦ°, which should be completed soon. Hopefully.

Monday, December 24, 2007

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Hansel und Gretel


Sunday, December 9, 2007

Postal Pornographos v. 43221109/ 6563442

.
Anorex-o-chic Erotique
.

.
Fu-fu says, "you'll get diverticulosis if you do that!!"
.

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Postal Pornographos v. 32437

.
Look hard but softly: She sits on the dangling bed
rather flaccidly--imagines a Beethoven overture
with his beef)
.


.
Her heroin-chic hair stood on end when someone mentioned
love as modern day lesbian Christ-impersonator
.



Postal Pornographos v. 643226788

.
To make all nipple-rubbed in ointment
.

.
She thought of nothing but bread and circuses
.


Tuesday, December 4, 2007

The Untold Story of Eva C.'s Daughter, "Lolita"

.
I
Happy Together

Oscar came into my life when I was fourteen. Back then I was a lady of the night looking for sensuality and the penetrable man my mother always told me about:

Child, they'll appear and try to enter you--you must be a forest of impenetrable steel. But they will be penetrable, vulnerable-- if you use what God gave you.



But my mother didn't believe in God; she was a true mystic. That meant her nipples were always hard and tiny, glaciated flesh-globes--tough to penetrate with the tongue alone.
,
*******
.
Oscar used to tell me, just as he was about to open my legs to examine a sleeping fortress of clouds, "your mother went & braided your hair again. You look dirty."

I wanted so hard to believe he said "you look like the helpless child-whore I fell in love with."
.
Any compliment would have sufficed...

II

From Phenomena of Materialisation
by Baron von Schrenck-Notzing

Marthe Béraud, all I have left of you now is a thin, brittle braid of ectoplasm. A dandy-man with wire glasses flows out of your naked chest like honey. I smell it long after I've switched off the flashlight; a lingering sensation of phenomenae and pheromone, mixed with a dainty bit of gunpowder--your secret weapon for dispelling angels.

"I want to be mystical!"
I used to exclaim with a child's naivete. Eva would hush me, then say,

you should be lucky you're not. She never gave a reason why. Talk is frivolity, she explained, excess speech does nothing to fill the void, only enhance the sinking feeling of nonpresence.

III


Severed Ties


Eventually, I tried my hand at purging this cool, milky ectoplasm--but it wouldn't come out naturally. Sure, it did come out when I was in a deep trance a couple times at Rupert's Seance Night. But instead of beautiful faces appearing in the murky mist, it was always Oscar's fingers cloaked by an anonymous woman's hair. Or an ashtray I dabbed my cigarette in. Once, I managed to conjure a scene from Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights, but was horrified at the disregard for detail my ectoplasmic bath procured.


Then it happened: my tantric emissions produced an image of Oscar, only this time he was in a dusty photograph from the past. On this image, jagged, triangular lines cut a path between us. Something sinister was at work. I devised a theory: my mother was posing as a member of the Bavarian illuminati: I was the channel from which she developed her ghastly phenomenae.


I went home and immediately warned Oscar. Upon hearing my strange tale of espionage and "other hidden forces", he took me to bed at once. It was in that love making that I noticed, for the first time, his black socks, hung up by thin, black garters. Suddenly it was clear:


the lines that separated us were all too evident.


IV


Lolita: After Revelations
& Spook-Purge


Oscar's dipping salts are no longer fastened tightly around my neck. After a while, the ectoplasm disappears like washed sex and sperm from his belly button.

When I was young he used to tell me: "Lolita, I'll make a woman of you someday."
But all I kept thinking about was my mother's Victorian corset, and the frail ghost-like trinkets
she held close to her skin.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

New e-book out

Fresh off the e-press:

Harmonious Hogwash

with Jukka-Pekka Kervinen
(VUGG Books)

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Spinsters: Once: The Body



the torrid caught muscle once rapturous Chickasaws [blurb] emboldened cautious diaphragm once feeble (cradle) oyster slivers I‘ve sucked replete of this> [blurb] bolder cartouche lips, so "symmetrical” A CORSIKA infaunal with xy-projection digging turns (or maps)--or maps of turns cautious aerial footage once & splotch once & “thistle” “tissue” “her bivalve lips”(from overhead) --embryo once caught muscle rupture perpendicular us not quietly erasing fetation

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Photene (light)


This is a sample image of a current "project" I'm working on.


Materials:

Oil paints on canvas
film (pushed film)
industrial artifacts


Monday, November 19, 2007

2. Here: Between Mixing


.
*
.
Shadow behind[you] breeding roots

......here: firs are painted into eyes as failed light


........................;......a rough estimate

.......of how many stony branches can grow

...................................into the heart


*

Winter beats dull wind--that snow-feeding


....................girl..."


[your] nothing night..., ... litte life

...under hair...,... frightened


...............................................nevertheless.....,


mixing sound water--not cold nor dead rain

......................................no relief...,.... no dust for mixing

...........cruellest gardens


*

kept [us, me] Here:

................................[I] was neither dead shelter


..................nor evening rising in [you]


--pearls of the wisest

woman eyes--


*

hyacinths



...................come back. [I] know

................only of mixing mountains


...............................under dead trees

....as children dry

....................spring rain


out of [me]......;


..........................a failed desire to meet [you]


..........as sustenance for parched tongue...,


.......a pack of late cards...,


.........................wind-whipped cricket rising


.....[in]



Friday, November 16, 2007

Been thinking...

...about turning Twine Galleries into a blog-book for a couple of reasons. One being most important: It'll save trees (no dirty hippie jokes!), and I don't want people to pay to read my work--it just doesn't seem right in my mind. I don't want to make money off of my poetry/artwork. Just read it, damn it, and if you get anything (even the tiniest thing) out of it, then I've done my job.

News

The Starfish Journal's No. 6 issue is out! This issue features poets like Angela Genusa, Tasha Klein, Mark Young and other goodies. It also includes a pretty nifty image gallery.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Odessa 1905 (Tribute to Guido Crepax)




I was feeling artistically uncreative this morning, so I decided to dig up some old books in storage, and happened upon Emanuelle, Bianca, and Venus in Furs-- erotic comic strips from Guido Crepax. I tried my hand at drawing--something I haven't done for quite some time (other than drawing a Spongebob character for my son a couple days ago, but that doesn't really count).

I wouldn't say it was a complete success, but it was still a fun process...the ass cheeks and hair look decent. Then again, who can fuck up ass cheeks?

Note: the poem is a cut-up of text from
the story of Bianca.

The Jeffrey Dahmer of Greek Mythology


Meet Kronos, the poster God
of healthy eating.
Bloody awesome...or, as
John Sakkis would say,
"this is so ouzo!"
And this is why I love being Greek.
It can't get any better than this.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

New Track: Disco Hospital [Bloopers Mix]

In other news...

My poem, Inlusion for Deleuze, from that ancient blog-book(the one I've conveniently forgotten all about!) [MUTE] is now at Recognitiones .

Many thanks to Riccardo Cavallo and Roberto Cavallera for displaying this poem, giving it new life again. This is, perhaps, one of those poems I feel strongly about because it was written for someone at a time of friendship. Turns out that friendship was all in vain, shallow, and convoluted. It's hard to read the poem and not think about what had been. But one must move on...

Friday, October 26, 2007

Randomness

Upon scouring the local library for shreds of non vomit-inducing poetry, I happened upon the work of Paul Pines, a fellow New Yorker and current resident of the town where I live (Glens Falls). His poetry stands out for me because of the experimental form, and the way in which he writes (alluding to Apollinaire and Leonardo--among others). As well as, obviously, the geographic connection and his reference to local places. Here are a couple of his poems.

Christmas in Glens Falls

at the Unitarian Universalist Church
a man in a Rudolph hat
complete with electric nose,
welcomes us

the Children's Choir
is followed by an elder whistling
"What Child is This?"

to remind us
ofthe child reborn in
each of us

while
uptown
among the Methodists
a transsexual tenor
in full drag
announces she
will no longer answer
to the name
of Robert


A Stone Buddha from Da Nang

A Stone Buddha from Da Nang
sits on my TV
I bought him on the promenade
after eating sweet and sour
dog-meat in the shadow
of the New Guinea Trader
orange stacks
tied up at the quay
behind venereal short-time
shacks vibrating with Marines...

I balance him in the palm
of one hand
and prepare to read THE LITERARY MIND
AND THE CARVING OF DRAGONS

Nietzsche wrote from the madhouse in Jenna
he'd learned more from lust than literature
but the lasting sound
of untreatable clap
is all I got from Mimi

Friday, October 19, 2007

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Saturday, October 13, 2007

90% Intestinal// 10% Infinitesimal

I [t]was me...lime trees [all] squeezed green and then [dis]tress zipper fantasies tangled collusion approaches the shout/smack horizon a dead end wanting the end to linger on deadly, the way our lips parted, a presencing of absence between the flesh of us, a wake up call for two immersed in the ornate rowing, robuckling, of the rococo stomach salon, in the manticore pouch of the Linden's longing parsing-ful whose whish of slipper upon the scratch of his paraphrased skull "Come here, my favourite lunatic in the galaxy," she purred, opening her arms to him, knowing that frozen cum was not an option -- those antiquated passions, bitch-slapped petri-dish silly then cryo-piggy-banked for the milkman, rowing, rowing Robo-Cop cajoling the shirt off her tangled body. Then BURN it DOWN all OF it BEFORE something ANYTHING caca(de)tonates BROAD apathy AND SOCIAL laissez faire MENTION to siblings MOTHER trapped UNKNOWN ORGANISMS beneath the TEXTUAL ORIFICE stop clandestine searches, rayguns pouting semen sequences the death of two little angels dueling (balladry) minus the screech of strong religious mores, the fifteenth silence paring, velour sequences disenfranchised and censored through blare and acquiesce coercion demarcation cracked anathema as we prod alien theremins for textile theories, walls of soundless glissandi (balladry of thawing Cryospermologies). We spin tevatrons and bones between our fingers as arriving unwrapped accumulations of literals, designed disturbances freebase semantic conviviality. where to discard migraines, interference patternwork, & a giant robot named BORPOMATI (!!) unto you, limitless sets of neon ropa-dopa underwear.A thunk on the head, a toss out the window's wombat sail. Iam a) the dirtiest cop you ever prosed or poetried, a Nantucket galaxy's 350 ton crocodile taken to the neck of syntax.Go-go drivel has some calling us to flicker helplessly the way your stockings ride oblique the way ceremony studies humiliation. dream of macrobiotic syntax, elongated (bloat)o --hairless flesh bleached into coral liquid. Go-go spinal fluid (trap doors, secret mirrors of Araby) light/darkness. Vexing once ghosts' personification of turkey-basters and culture dishes, o those melting pots of chromozoic dysfunction. intracervical poltergeists pitching anonymous EchoChambers are no excuse for inconcise language amounting to a spiraling lack of comprehension among SocialNetfuckers so cagey in their self-appointed glory wholes. excuse my excuses so noted the SpurnedCareTaker Immanuel Kant was sipping his coke & nodding. at a distance, one could see that was only the silhouette of Mozart cutting his cousin's nails. if you focus on the scene, you can see it actually is man ray and shakira singing christmas carols to a neon sign saying "nude popes $12.00" next to a basket of vibrating pocket nuns, $6 ea. or 2/for $8. just then, mozart's cousin leapt up, screaming. "f* you, you g*d* powder-faced, wig-wearing manicurist pervert! i didn't come here to huff artificial nail glue, i wanted a m*f* pedicure!" now where's that invitro glory hole you burn into the heart of my sweating deltoid...riddled with reason tingle sonatas left to rot beneath old demon thighs...angry at sunlight's matted dreadlocks the Difference to Ask Questions of a growling palm-tree acting as Oracle-In-Residence is that deterritorialized enough to suit the Venerated One? genetic and demure to subway the fabric of everything Hulk now understand what it mean to bury the hatchet in by and by the gutstring snaps (dischord arranged (tiny globules (OffKilter (one standup poet (I forget my lines) shapes sibilants) TongueWhippedLabiations) shrink indiscriminately) a matrimony amongst bitparts) by and by tampons are carcinogenic. organic all-cotton tampons offer pastel-tinted "anime" style pornography for men‘s enjoyment. Imagine wearing the same socks for 12 hours if our feet were bleeding. Please avoid the plastic ones because theyhave a "pincher-mouth" opening. strippers use tampons on stage, and have a 4 1/2 inches long warning about Toxic Shock Syndrome. a tiny bottle of Scope is a lousy substitute for a real vagina. FACT: menstrual blood is bright blue. spin etc cloudy or blindside patchy quoth thin ea. thin check lop thin omen agave airliner skewer or windy dub jubilantly our brat win chin high-handedly firstly crestfallen because of recuperate red meat oracle doctrinaire etc come soak thin peer bit altruistic sign shark wanted cake middlebrow adz anagram loss quality rinse rope arc audacity inserted into a coffin; resurrected as literature; held sway with the apostle of aesthetics; downward blow upward show; now there now not; some collaboration slips; leaks; never minds the white penis extract left to violin who controls the arachnid's contour, its gifted trousers at cinematic angles...A whorl, an erring husband twirls and spins...dub versions in the face of WhackWhack before the blackness of authority...sent silent and fluidity murmured a thick globular a vibrating hue beside her on the bed women who douche on a routine basis tend to have an increased risk of vaginal irritation, pelvic inflammatory disease, bacterial infection, sexually transmitted diseases, low birth-weight babies, and ectopic pregnancy. douching may make it easier to get pregnant by pushing the sperm further up into the vagina and cervix. The investigators protect against vaginal infections are sent to reside in blood, semen, and vaginal discharge. Shop as usual and avoid panic douching.trained to fight everyday...Televisions as their teachers cried fragmentation, my own ruin. The question is callow in increasing failures, a poll in early July's wet grace arachnids tasering folded hate. That's one slogan, and immobility wooded to its repetition mystical vexation taking the strange bus This process feeds prisoners to slaughtered pigs. Miscellaneous carcasses move from the slaughterhouse to the rendering plant for the reverse invention of the lard horror show. the big chunks of Meat & Bone Meal are the high-protein solids which are like Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. The melted oil spills over onto the floor of the fireplace. The impossible plan is trying to hot-sculpt a dyke by poking at the lard. Inevitablywe drift to tupperware party A or B because C does not seem to be aware of its any where being near or away from the other 2. It is however firmly rooted in its tupperware enclosing a(s) well divided void airtight so to speak, and looking only at itself it might well conclude the nearness of the other parties (people at any of the parties talking about any of the others). Don't the enclosures taken en masse speak for themselves? Should we for instance stick to orange lids only? What do a walrus and Tupperware have in common? -- They both like a tight seal. xxx Latine flat lollipop machine xxx Thighboots babes xxx So bury me in memory xxx quiz girls who http status code 302 xxx loans when do mortgage rates fall xxx popsicle molds from tupperware xxx a slow stochastic chart xxx electrical pharmacy diazepam girl inserting chimber crasp, blelnt neh tlumba melst. nig hunha gramber, anh smaenk!

...............S u m m a r y B Z o ‰ ª Ç È Ù ì
............I n f o r m a t i o n brain matter 1 T a b l e
............ _PID_GUID [ŸòùO] are mighty tasty

Cry Me A River" playing in the background and a wave of heroin in the blood . . . distant in memory at end of the hall . . figure flashing . . . gyroscoped movements , slow approaches, drifting in dream--Someone pounding at the door--Open up! It's the police!can't tell any longer memory dream or life--hallucinations same as watching window views--high distant whines of power lines and the birds in breeze--a canal below the window, where the last visitor drowned a white wooden chair inside an empty roomlooking at self in a mirror masturbating in a circular orange tub crickets crawling on shaved legs a pair of red missiles growing out of her breasts tearing apart her putrid flesh aiming at the only light source in the room
______________________________

Collaborators:

Miekal And
Dirk Vekemans
Lanny Quarles
Robert Chrysler
Angela Genusa
ek rzepka
Marco Giovenale
Marcus Tang
Jukka-Pekka Kervinen
John M. Bennet
David Baptiste Chirot
Matina L. Stamatakis



Friday, October 12, 2007

Dendritic Avalanches in Superconductor Flux






PopSlopping

a) Pieces of Her...
........................b)Dreaming of [French] Audio-Erotic Sheep

...........................i-Bod

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Extra [NEW!] Plumbing


Malleable Objects: A Dialogue Hidden Between Throats

Grethel: Forgeries encapsulate the Braille? Open mouths?

Kalsel: Maybe... epiglottides and caustic trigonometries
...........slump forward...


Grethel: ...Yes, and radiometric. I've measured these fluid-drenched
..............ducts, these semaphore reds time and then....no, we make

..................................jest as estimated vomitus. So, in conclusion...

Kalsel: Extrude ulcer from mouth and chancre sudden
.............thrash of milky waves...to beach in one's ether. To...

Grethel: Sculpt capricious vowels ...yes, how hasty is one's
......
............................................and immoral suasion!

Kalsel: The act of canary expressions. Bestial at best. No, you...
..................and then it swallows moan with mirth as victual

..................................to not be a visage just; be a vivid embrace--

Grethel: You speak defiantly, but you know it is I who taught
.............capitulation to man. It is, then goes...a much more sinister
.............grin.

Kalsel: But whose keel and veracity it fucks twice-over;
.......................................a pleadable this...
...........................warts disappear with the right pressure.

Grethel: So do moans. And names scratched into paper. And
....................................the diagrams of our palms...

...............................................forgive the mattress
........................................it swallows motion

Kalsel: Your forgiven ellipses and synthetic glossae...

.............................my tongues find their way into your body
.................................again and again...

Grethel: But then, and here's the truth:

Kalsel: Not so. Once, a beautiful carpenter refused
................the wooden slats of your spine...along
............................with all shrinking

.......................violets [Song of Solomon 6:42] before
......................... the 40 day storm

Grethel: Nonsense! I've come to...urge speech and...
............you know nothing...and pigeons are...and you...
..................an ill-bred sapling...

..........................................my icy divide: the curl
......................................of a second well-hidden labia

Monday, September 24, 2007

Dr. Death Doll Set LE



Metropolvorkian Doll LE



Metropolvorkian Doll comes with:

-one pink leopard print dress
--fashionable white genuine leather handbag
--two pairs of high heel pumps,
--one black roller suitcase
--miniaturized copy of the New York Times


Additional Items:

--Dr. Death's signature gray cardigan
--blue-black slacks
--brown loafers
Dr. Kevorkian's Set of Gift Certificates (in set of 10)


Also includes actual-size "Death Machine" with working
parts!!!

$10,000.79

Items Sold Separately:



Hybrid Syringe Bottles



$10.50 (per dozen)

Syringe Sampler System


$1,000.75

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Burroughs' Comfort Select

Burroughs' "Extremely Small Particles" Wall Clock





.....................$ 150. 00

(sold in: Key-Lime Green, Frozen
Flesh Gray, and Junction Blue)



........................... Burroughsian Comfort Lounge
.................................Eames Special Edition


...........................................$ 525.84






Antique Autographed "Mugwumpian" Typewriter


...............................$2,000.00



No House is Complete without...



............................ Burroughvision

...$ 5,000.000 (Talking Burroughs Head Sold Separately)