I worked on the back porch early
drinking black coffee
like in a trance
creating expressive black & white works on paper
I thought of as ‘cave art.’
As the rising sun created light and heat
Denisovans climbed the back stairs
to the porch.
Denisovans stood watching me
in a dark and cool room.
I pointed outside the window
they touched their skin.
I finished four deadlines yesterday I began in February when I finished my 33′ X 5′ painting on paper. Now I can do something about promoting this painting.
The amount of work I have done in the last year makes me feel half my age.
I remember when I used to work in schools.
I went for a walk after the rain. Garbage washes over the street in familiar colours.
I see a painting in the tiny art gallery window but when I photograph it clouds appear.
Is this a store security camera monitor? I would splice the discarded ‘evidence’ into an art film.
The Classic Candy Store sponsored a free giveaway of Moirs chocolate at the local (it has been resurrected) theatre in 1927. One day my shadow will vanish forever like a chocolate company.
I used a Sharpie marker in my sketchbook on the subway. The lady in white does not see me. I only see her in the photograph.
I only notice the Celtic manuscript in front of the drugstore parking lot when it begins to fade.
In the elevator at the medical clinic a Taj Mahal-like shape eats away at the cheap paneling.
Now I can do something about promoting this painting.
Eurydice made me a chutney & cucumber sandwich on white bread, minus the crust, for my drive to the art school. Somebody smashed the rental car window – I’d parked in the alley where the crack dealer operated, so I went to the emergency repair place. Sunlight on the shattered window bits danced like crystal chandeliers. I knew I should wait, until the glass was vacuumed & replaced, before eating the sandwich. But somehow the green chutney & white bread went perfectly with chandeliers. I pictured Eurydice making her entrance.
from my book Meme-Noir (2019)
My father brought home FBI WANTED POSTERS his friend, the agent, gave him. I spread them out on the bed and frightened myself with aliases, previous crimes, and last known locations. What is white slavery? He has a bazooka? The square inked fingerprints looked like Neolithic patterns connected to the criminal’s inner mind. Photographs were specific yet vague. He could be at the music store, in line at the Frozen Dairy stand. If a car slowed down, surely one of the most wanted had followed me – possibly for hours.
from my book Meme-Noir (2019)
I thought the gallery in Yorkville might be a good fit with my work. The owner wore a sophisticated black dress. Maybe ten years older than me. European. People told me my work was European. She told me to spread it on the floor. She sat in the only chair. After an hour and a half – of what I thought, seriously I did, was a meetings of the minds – she said, ‘Of course, you know you’re not a fine artist.’ I walked out of Yorkville more than a bit shaky – but dazzled by the timing of her coup de grace.
from my book Meme-Noir (2019)
The 2nd draft stood at roughly 80,000 words after removing 20,000 words, give or take, from where it stood after the 1st draft. This time the edit seemed to go in reverse as I developed connections, elaborations, new scenes, etc… and added almost 25,000 words to the total.
In the New Year the scissors will be out again for the 4th draft. Speaking of which, my father’s father was a barber during the Great Depression. He was, by all accounts – and as I can attest, a frightening man although he did feed his family during perilous times. My father ended up with his barbershop gear and, much to my displeasure, put them to use on Saturday mornings. That doesn’t really have anything to do with editing the 4th draft. But of course it does.
Update: As of today (1/3/2021) the 3rd draft (which I thought was complete) has grown to 131,287 words. Which means the next draft/edit will take longer than anticipated although I don’t know why I anticipated anything at all. The story-idea hasn’t wanted to stop although I think (hope) now it has.
poemimage 