"All the Hues |
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Siberia, USA: Today, global warming. Tonight, dark, unless you count the stars. Tomorrow can be reached via time machine. Yesterday, who can remember that far back? |
Websafe Studio, blogging since 2003, featuring art, comics, digital whiteboards, virtual characters, Web design, writing |
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Writer StatementI agree with John Gardner that the writing of fiction is the "creation of a vivid and continuous dream." To write, one enters this dream state and allows one's characters to inhabit one's being and to speak through one. My fiction influences are diverse and range from 19th-century traditionalists like Henry James, Edith Wharton and George Gissing to 20th-century modernists like James Joyce and Virginia Woolf and postmodernists like Donald Barthelme. The Decryption of Floriform X -- This short, illustrated fiction was written on Twitter circa 2008, each tweet numbered to keep track. The God of Wind and Air -- Unfinished sequel to Decryption, written collaboratively on Twitter. The Manuscript of Jacob Hall -- Why write fiction? What is it "for"? |
Monday, June 18, 2007Street Art/Magnetic Poetry
Even Siberia, USA, has a summer. And in our summer, we have some street art. One of these interactive pieces is a pair of old icebox doors mounted on a wooden stand. On these doors are scattered various magnetic poetry sets. Here are three poems I recently composed from these constraints:
1. The sun as song, The will as fast; No girling tree Who hard home has As full this down For snow that bad Where living runs Were read. She has By it, with sand, His teacher is. 2. Come out, dream talk, You have perilous litter. Yield and toy, Speak more slander; Torment affection Near when yonder; Companion sleep So warrant after. I quench vehemence, Grace every time; We break from manner, Though we climb Another ghost For tale above: That quiet naught Which must tempt love. 3. Snow, wet green giant! Shine slow, like music. Book him with need-teachers. Plant light when talking. Rain purple song! Always stuff sun out. Live, downing will. See this home fast! Toast the eye tree. Read so my good -- Run that full climb. Sing it, Mom, Dad! Come for no bad. -- by Fish Girl Labels: poetry posted at
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