Cami Park

Posts Tagged ‘sky’

Some things are like treeswings

In Architecture, Philosophy, Poetry on September 1, 2010 at 11:07 am

Progress Under Blue Sky and Clouds
Karl Parker

It’s difficult to consider building a barn
when we still don’t have a clue down here about the front door.
There is, however, a seemingly-endless amount of stuff

to get lost in, occasionally come alive inside (at least
that’s what it feels like) an old treestump
or someone’s accent. Some things are like treeswings

that don’t need trees, and therefore of intrinsic good.
You see, we proceed by default, but don’t tell that to the weather
or little rivers of flies start to stream from our education.

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Over the moon

In Confessional, Poetry, Prose on March 10, 2010 at 8:04 pm

My poem about expiring, “LA Confidences,” is a semi-finalist for Flatmancrooked’s Poetry Prize, and will be published in the Flatmancrooked Volume of Contemporary Poetics along with the 44 other semi-finalists plus a few well-known poets like Li-Young Lee, Eleni Sikelianos, and Forrest Gander. I am beside myself, and so happy for ana c.‘s original inspiration.

Slap Hand

In Confessional, Poetry, Prose on February 18, 2010 at 4:25 pm

My contributor’s copy of Wrong Tree Review arrived in the mail, plus a fun bonus toy– Slap Hand! Sheldon Lee Compton treats his writers right. I haven’t stopped not writing since. Anyway, it’s full of good stuff, from familiar people like Matt Bell, Rusty Barnes, xTx, Stephen Graham Jones, and Ethel Rohan, plus others I’m not so familiar with, like Foust, K. L. Cook, and John Oliver Hodges.

Also, there are things that exist outside of America. I found out about Retort Magazine, based in Australia, from Laura Ellen Scott, and Jason Lee Norman turned me on to Narwhal, a cool-looking Canadian journal. They are now on my list of places.

Jumping around

In Film, History, Hobby on February 8, 2010 at 11:54 pm

Vodpod videos no longer available.Parkour

The dogmouth sky

In Art, Music, Poetry on January 7, 2010 at 12:01 am

Henry Darger

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I wanted to fuck a robot

In Film, Poetry, Sex on December 23, 2009 at 8:30 am

So you want to be an astronaut
Rebecca Loudon

what hoodoo did you encounter
in the swamp
prying open shells with your hook
grip tight enough to turn a flywheel
six hash marks today
track your compulsion
slake your blue-
veined Jesus

clouds puckered from the north
at Yaquina Head steam rising
a constant foot-deep howl
I examined my body in hotel mirrors
that was my job across the country
Oregon Idaho Montana Illinois Virginia
coffee and a compass
my hair shorn
rolled whiskey in chloroform
worshipped your tongue’s pink pelt
holy holy holy
hot wet cloth pressed to a boil
on my pudendum

I wanted to fuck a robot
have him lurch above me
metallic thumb inside
his nictating lens
hey rube hey rube
I danced in a whirlygig dress
sea smell throbbing up

let’s fly in an aeroplane no storm but the Perseids
zip above the James River while all the tweeters
in the meadow tweet holy holy holy
lifted by a spaceship that proves
the great inconvenience of love
green lights spraying underneath
your metal thumbs
your Duchenne smile

Vodpod videos no longer available.

They have voices like human beings, but their roars are proverbs.
Henry Darger

Bad day Monday

In Art, Confessional, Philosophy on December 21, 2009 at 1:47 pm

What are you gonna do?

John Boultbee

Quentin Tarantino’s foot fetish

In Art, Film, Prose on December 6, 2009 at 6:20 am

Inglourious Basterds is the feel good film of the year.

Kelly Sant, Not Blahnik

Red Shoes
Honor Moore

all that autumn you step from the train

as if something were burning

something is burning

running across the green grass bare feet

that day death was only

what we lose in fall comes back in spring

something is burning

from the train you climb

smoke between the skyscrapers

Paris was so beautiful, the sky–

all that autumn

then tears

Why do we do this again?

she turns to you in the kitchen

she puts her arms around you

she is wearing those red shoes

One-eighth

In Beverage, Photography, Prose on October 18, 2009 at 8:36 pm
David Burdeny

David Burdeny

The dignity of movement of the iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water. Ernest Hemingway

We don’t walk so badly

In History, Photography, Prose on October 15, 2009 at 2:19 am

Okinawa Soba - Collodoin Emulsion Photo on Glass from OLD JAPAN

Excursion into the Mountains
Franz Kafka

“I don’t know,” I cried without a sound, “I just don’t know. If nobody comes, then nobody comes. I have not done anyone any harm, nobody has done me any harm, but nobody wants to help me. Absolutely nobody. But really it is not this way. Just that nobody helps me — otherwise absolutely nobody would be fine. I would really like — and why not? — to make an excursion in the company of absolutely nobody. Into the mountains of course, where else? How these nobodies press against each other, all these arms, crossed and entangled, all these feet, separated by tiny steps! It is understood that everyone is in tails. We don’t walk so badly, and the wind moves through the gaps that we and our limbs leave open. In the mountains throats become free! It’s a wonder we don’t sing.”

trans. by Kevin Blahut
published by Twisted Spoon Press