Bloom

Painting by Igor Eugen Prokop

 

I had an orgasm in Oklahoma, a vision in Virginia, but in Denver witnessed no empty tomb in a rocky mountain, or any other miracle
I gestated in Solomon’s icicles and was born in the wizened space between May raindrops
In San Bernardo was baptized in Escobarian blood and chicharron grease Read More

Advertisements

Babel Jazz

Art by Ross Eccles

 

From minor to augmented (egos)
you inverted perverted sevenths and ninths stacked too high and tight like crumbling tenements and
trump tower trumpettes blaring cries for deployment, displacement,
their own decadence.
Dissonance.
The tesserae of wild flying life
the pursuit of caffeinated virtue in
my roaring twenties and twentieth-century aftermath
An improbable mosaic for the mathematically inclined:
Oils and piss and turpentine thrown onto the tabula rasa
Orchestras and cocaine and sad sex Read More

Commie Consulting

Art by Yue Minjun

‘Commie Consulting’ was what I suggested when Mike Sun — ardent Daoist and clandestine Christian who took pride in sharing a surname with Zhou dynasty war (now business) strategist, Sun Zi — asked what we should call our company that helped foreigners do business in China.

“I like it.”

Thus, as conceal-carry attracts violence in the hope of playing hero, so it was there, packing heated wallets while Americans marketed their Chopstix® to the Chinese and garishly joked while downing and drowning in sorghum wine and braised Sichuan pork butt from the shared ‘iron rice bowl’, that it was considered “unpatriotic to eat this stuff in the States.”  Read More

Lyrical Love: Step Right Up

Art by Kingsley Wallis

Now don’t go getting too excited about a tax-refund shopping spree. First have a listen to this beat/jazz poem-song by Tom Waits, written in 1976, and you might think twice about how to spend your money. Or, the snaky salesman might successfully tempt you into trying the miracle product. “It finds you a job, it is a job… It sanitizes for your protection, it gives you an erection, it wins the election…” Read More

Cobbling

Photo by Beorn DuPont

Breakfast beating at the hunger hour. The cobbler ate clams and drank Meritage, and Charlie from California called us all ‘homies’ while the phones kept buzzing. Bzzz, and Tim with his mandolin and Levon with his grooving views on duty and Dao while the ball of sun-dried tomato/basil whipped butter sat there wuwei… They were billy goats gruff and I coveted their lack of sensibilities. Merv, that ancient free spirit of a shoemaker, wandered town as a troll at SnowDown and asked around about “them hill-billies.”  Read More

Tesserae

Frederico and his band playing, me and Jashy happy with jazzy stuff like Crakkity Adam’s Apple banging the drums, a waitress called Bonita, and ice cubes. The once in awhile soft glance the two of us share like the low breathy break Read More