Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Once Quoted

Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative. --Oscar Wilde

The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant. --Salvador Dali

A good writer possesses not only his own spirit but also the spirit of his friends. --Friedrich Nietzsche

Religion is the masterpiece of the art of animal training, for it trains people as to how they shall think. --Arthur Schopenhaur

Gnawing at this Polaroid Sun

fins of fish,

waxen apparitions

in ink-

leavened bronzes

the eye’s
tromp l’oeil

flanking the roe
at high tide--

a barium froth

foam, this sea
between horizon


no home
the curtain drawn

ashes, all

Thursday, June 25, 2009

The Rain, Cometh

under cobalt sky--dulled by emulsified stars--we trace the windowpane, blue-swathed, & point toward God [where most we fear a stretched hand will cast the sunlight out

where the droplets
form silhouettes out of hollowed-out precipices, ogive shrouded in darkness & what disaster the sea churns, upon its torrent-belly, moons lacquered with albumen, oil * * * I am coming home to you, blue naphtha, fire song

leave your longing
light on for the sailors who’ve lost their way like so many others before the tide, a menagerie of black-grays

Happy Days

The coolest book. Ever.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Sappho as a Man

& I bleed paradise
this moment

with thought of your tongue
& mine, what grace


feeling signifies something

in the longing birth & conclusion of body in dew

& it puzzles me

how both can transcend perfection

prothesized in a Sunday without clothes, immaculated

by wanting & have of___

I’ve probed
the irrealism of your animality

the sea to settle

into the potential placement of my bones

in a wave of___

or, possibility extracts from the marrow
all & nothing

nothing &__for which
I’ve worked a lifetime
to perfect as “abyss"

you kissed me, created matter

the sweet instant of


Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Five Bodies of Work

Dreams of Corrosion

1/4 Pure

Paper Doll

[in] Corporeality

Coyness of Pearl

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Friday, June 12, 2009

The Unveiling of Xerolage #43--Grapyrus

Here it is: http://xexoxial.org/is/xerolage43/by/matina-l-stamatakis

With special thanks to mIEKAL aND,
Kane X. Faucher, Maria Damon
and John Moore Williams.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Visions of Finality

paint ravens into horizon, come out of view--then into--
do not reflect on endings that have passed, but beginnings that never


they reveled in their elements, or fought against themselves wholly
chiseled into immaculate

quite Fresco

with the threat of historical destruction, wear
of too many years

gracing the same wall


time has come to return to remembrances
with a new wisdom of the setting sun

or the reversal of tides; mend broken glass
& fractured herring bone

[do not tell me the differences between flesh
& pumice

we have rubbed up against
each other too much; revealed

humanistic flaw, only]


your teeth initiated the first speech
the one I saved for my mind when

dire was the need for rhetoric

a crowd gathered
to watch explosions of thought

the danger of
& hope for carnage


--there is nothing left, but nothing is something
worth mentioning

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Victims of the Dance

[lyrics by Tuxedomoon]

Feel like Cassandra


The last dance of the bones


In spite of sudden death

As is at last

She knew in a breath

We'll all be dancing

On our own

With no past

With no regrets

But Cassandra had problems

She denied a god love

and he ruined her gift of prophecy

She could see it all

But no one believed her

No one believed her when she said

We are all victims of the dance

We are all victims of the dance

and seeing the future

seeing the future

Foreseeing the future's

Not for us

It's unimaginable

We are all victims of the dance

We are all victims of the dance

We can't see the stoplights

Can't see the stoplights

With no fore or hindsight

We just go blind

DA da da da da da

We are all victims of the dance

We are all victims of the dance

We met at a dance

Was it my dream or yours?

Who knows

It was so long ago

It hit me friday evening stained with purple mirth

The longer you stay away the crazier i get

Crowded at faceless parties so gutted and sunk

Winking at the warm bodies

Taking deception for granted

Trying to dance

Just an immortal ghost

and us?

What about us


Let's have another drink on the host

Cause we are all victims of the dance

Who fall and recover

Fall and recover

and fail to discover

First things first

With an unquenchable thirst

We drink

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

L'inconnue de la Seine


driftwood & moss ballet slow-sifted in paper skin

spider-veined the faith of grasping silhouettes

from the strain of naked nape

a violin emerges

a moment bathed in martyrdom

stomach bloated with gibbous moon waxed

in surging calm-- vertical dance before

flecked grey

soft obelisk glyphs in knotted hair--

the foreboding crest of an awakened monsoon

then recession--solitude--the dull blue pebble