Inspiration

Of late, my work has focused on the loss of tactility in our everyday experience as urban people. There is a great distance between the physical world and our conceptual engagement of it. Food is not recognizable from it's original state, music is downloaded and "face time" means screen to screen communication. This poetry longs for a recovery of our proximity to real presences and states.

One aspect of this exploration involves the use of typewriters. I find that the visceral nature of typing on these machines inspires an appreciation for each word and intimates a rhythm that would never be perceived otherwise. Many of these poems begin on the subway and then get banged out on my Olympia Report Deluxe Electric. I truly hope you will enjoy engaging with Tactility.


Sunday, September 11, 2011

3.9

A star is giving up its gaseous blood:
yellow and blue and red.
Her white hands and feet curl inward.
Her white ribs bend and sparkle and crack
with quiessent shrieks
like the sound of an infant
sucking milk.
She dies with gauche perplexity,
florid naivety,
like our love,
held in time that is only imagined.
We could not see her then,
three point nine billion years ago.
Now, we are unable to look away.
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