When I was writing poetry all the time it was a constant viewfinder on the world. I often couldn’t walk through the landscape without some bit of reality catching my attention by beauty or irony or brutality or humanness. Camera phones helped me by allocating some of those interactions to visual poems. Many of my video works are these moving poems, and many photos tend to be one stanza works about an encounter out here in reality. Here are three I found recently.
Honed Jr did sorry work thru his soft knuckles,
Hunks of time innuendoed the poetry in between the pain and the release.
Indirectly varied I Dr the numbers until I can win just one more bag of nickels.
Jr conducts osmosis through the cooked book until he no longer needs to toil.
Ironed inside and outside by 5th grade,
the rest of the sites were not able to make a difference.
I will always be that broken link below you.
404’d until i.give.into.defeat.
Jr learns hide and seek so well he never sees himself again.
I looked for an afternoon but settled instead to eat General Cho (Joe? Tso?) chicken with my hyena landlady, reclining in plastic, a month behind on my student loans,waiting for a new rebirth of poetry.