Archive for: May, 2007

Lost A Shoe

The old man touched every fencepost
On his walk down a sandy road
His fingertips leaving blood
Red on grey wood

The old man lost a shoe
Two miles back
He hated his socks
So he got rid of them too

A young woman down the road
Fighting five zombies
Was wearing
Both her shoes

She was waving a fencepost
She had pulled out of the ground
Which had torn the palms of her hands
Red on grey wood

“Hey man would you help me
With all of this?” she cried
Breaking the fencepost
Over a zombie’s head

“Sorry I can’t
I lost a shoe two miles back”
said the old man, standing
As still as the fence himself

“I am going to die
At the hands
Of walking corpses”
said the young woman

“Also, you are carrying
A fucking sword.”
she added, flailing her arms
In a circle of dead men

“My feet are sore.”
said the old man
It was true because
He had no socks

But then he could no longer
See the young woman
And something great
Reappeared from within him

Like something pulled
From the ground
Something he thought he left
Two miles back

The old man
Drew
His
Sword

Later he and the young woman
Walked along a sandy road
He turned to her and said
“I need to get some socks.”

The young woman examined
The cuts on her hands
Wiped them on his coat
Red on grey wood

Part of the “Orphan Ascends In Green” series, a collection of poems about three travelers on an island overrun by zombies.

Review, Logo/Illustration: Cosmic Catnip

Cosmic Cat

This cat, who is stoned out of his mind, is the image that this catnip company has chosen to represent itself. You don’t often find product logos or artwork that incorporates a full-blown drug induced hallucinatory experience as part of their marketing strategy. That cat is hallucinating so hard his whiskers are turning up.
I like the subtle look of surprise on the cat’s face, like maybe he’s in a roomful of other cats who are used to doing catnip, but this is his first time and he didn’t expect it to be this intense, and he doesn’t want to let on that his cat brain is collapsing on itself like a rainbow supernova.
I also like the clouds in the background that are shaped like cats.
Of course, this may be an actual real life drawing of the physical effect of this catnip, sort of a visual warning: Your cat will ride a rainbow over grassy hills and cat shaped clouds after ingesting this catnip. Please do not be alarmed as he or she is lifted into the air by a wide spectrum of colors.

The Grey Man

The grey man
Looked like soot
Looked like ash
From far away

‘Oh you puff of smoke
Where have
you blown in from?’
said the old man who saw him

The old man couldn’t tell
What he was seeing
But he knew right away
It was all true what they were saying

The old man felt like his heart
Had been turned to paper
And set on fire
His blood looked like ash

And he laid a sheet
Over his wife
And the sheet
Had been turned to paper

The rising smoke
Looked like
The grey man
The ash looked like blood

‘Oh you puff of smoke
where are
you blowing to?’
said the old man to his wife

And when he saw
The grey man again
He knew right away
It was all true what they were saying

Part of the “Orphan Ascends In Green” series, a collection of poems about three travelers on an island overrun by zombies.

Review: Clown Cake

clown cake

This is a photograph of a birthday cake available at Dunkin Donuts. It’s hard to tell from the camera phone photo, but the clowns’ eyes are X’ed out in the cartoon “death” style similar to when a cartoon character has (usually temporarily) died. At first I was disturbed by the way these clowns seem to have been taken out, assassination style, falling cleanly to the ground in nearly identical poses. But then I realized that maybe that was the birthday gift, as if the cake was sending a message: “Some clowns were going to ruin your birthday, but I took them out in the manner of a professional hit man. Happy Birthday.”
Thanks, frosting clown vigilante. Watch out, frosting clowns.

Review, Photograph: Five Questions I Am Left With After Thinking About This Framed Photograph Of A Chorus Line Of Babies

baby kick line

This photo of a dancing line of babies is framed on a windowsill in a nearby office. I have unofficially decided to call it “Broadway Babies”. I have been thinking about it for almost a week since it first startled me into taking a picture of it with my camera-phone, and I have five questions, one for each baby:

Baby #1:Why commemorate you in a wooden frame?
Baby #2: What should I do if my infant develops a spontaneous knowledge of dance, choreography and costumery and puts on an impromptu campy musical performance?
Baby#3: Who came to this show? Other babies who can’t dance?
Baby#4: Is this the best line of babies dancing show or some kind of amateur local baby theater production?
Baby#5: Is that a baby sized stage, or are you a troupe of giant (horrible) babies in pink feathery hats?

Line of dancing babies, I thank you for a week of puzzling over your existence, like a Zen riddle of dance themed newborn art, you confound the senses and contradict all existence everywhere.

Review, Online Service: Google Reader

The internet is starting to feel like the ocean, in the way that the ocean makes you feel uneasy when you swim too far out in it and you look back over your shoulder and the silhouette of your hotel against the flattened sun baked sky has grown so small, and its all just a shade of blue meeting another shade of greenish blue in a vanishing point on a cruel horizon.
Its all starting to feel like too much, all these endlessly copyable files and articles and music and photos and videos, having taken on the properties of water, even seeming to have out-evolved water, and even those combinations of these things waiting there in the future, waiting to be seen and heard in a process that sometimes seems like seeing and sometimes feels like swimming and sometimes feels like drinking.
Our music, photos, videos and words have pulled a fantastic trick: they have switched our mouths with our eyes. And here we stand, you and I, in the tide, wondering what we are doing in all this water.
We need sturdy wooden boats to skim the surface, dams, channels, simple man made things to make sense of seas, oceans, lakes. Water only seems to want to make more of itself, to take on the shape of what it’s inside of, to pass through any and all things, to wash the skin, to move and move and move.
For the moment, Google Reader, an rss feed reader (did you know you can subscribe to this website in just such a thing?) seems like a nice little boat to ride around on, take me back to the hotel, my arms are tired.