dunno

Come to think of it,
I don't know what I was thinking.

Been busy
with scissors and trashbags.

verbal art project

"Darrell-0909"
Art+economy+
parked between order and chaos...
so the reader writes some.

If you'd like to look in on Darrell,
send your address to:
jimk_arts [ at ] yahoo [ dot ] com

(Accordian-pleated sheet with applique,
mini-broadside/bookmark, 8-1/2 x 2-3/4).

It is free, but I would
like your comments...thanks!

--------------------------------

Lt. Torsseaux.

Lieutenant Torsseaux


Once commander of Rubble Platoon,
found in a pothole outside
an Appalachian laundromat.


Al-Queda sheikhs once shook
as he shaded their view,
the last thing they saw,
like in a Saturday cartoon.

It all seemed pretend when
he lost a leg, got discharged.
Then drifting, chef duties,
always the panic attacks.

He fell down in a flashback,
lost legs, head, and arm
to the winter treads
of a Dodge Durango late for work.
Destruction sometimes arrives
in the clothes of commerce.

In the end, only his armored vest
and infamous 'helping hand' remained.

From East to West has moved

At "From East to West", they have survived the thrashing
of a server change. The new URL is:

THE NEW LINK

I like the new link...straightforward, easier to remember.
Take a look at the material. The interface takes a while
to suss out, but it's nice. The art and poetry are
meshed really well there, and it's still a low-key thing.

If you like it, mention it!

Onward

"I've already waited too long." --Morrissey

Coins

coins of the realm
on a cold wet day

THIS MEANS SOMETHING

words.....words....words...
....what are words worth?

There is a scene in "Close Encounters of the Third
Kind" where the annoying Richard Dreyfus sculpts
his mashed potatoes into a mesa-like shape and says:
"this means something".

I was considering the hundreds of thousands of
serious poets out there, the millions of hours,
and I had an epiphany:

The importantance of poetry is underestimated
tremendously, I believe, even within the community.

Consider this: for all the creative and destructive
power of the Internet, for all the pressure put on
older media: books, radio, TV, papers, etc...
what is it that we are even more intensely
dependent on than we ever were before? The words.
How do we find an idea? Google the words.
How do we find a looker, a listener? keywords, blurbs,
comments, etc. Words. Condensed words,
patterned words, and even more to the point,
evocative words. These are the keys we use
every day to access thoughts, ideas, information.
Extractive words and evocative words are far more
important now than they were even 5 yrs ago.
Doesn’t that all seem remarkably like poetry?

An obsession with poetic skill is sweeping across
hundreds of thousands, and we aren’t sure what it means…
the standard editorial that most stink is beside the
point...what is the outlet for this river? Perhaps our
inner minds feel that connection between work and play
that has been hiding in plain sight for years now:
These words are the only keys to all we can find.
We don’t go to channels anymore: we type words.
We don’t tune Megahertz: no, we use words!
We don’t stop off at a certain hour, at a certain
station: we plant our words, and we connect them to
other people’s words. Please notice: this is true
even if we are pushing non-word art....photos,
movies, paintings, sculpture, architecture.

Skills in poetry, using words in a concentrated
evocative way, are intimately connected to skills
in broadcasting and tuning for: thoughts....in
this new transmission media.

Spies in the courtyard