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Showing posts from February, 2007

latest revisions of Wonderland poem

(August 1st 2006)


two bags to my name
a twitchy eye
and sour stomach

narrowing down

my life

the skinny

no room
for the gaunt
and unladen
and extremely

fog rolling
over stanzas
and false cities

leaving behind Korea for Poland
for no earthly reason
not dispossessed
of judgement
but starting out
for another kingdom


here on this earth
with a bucket under
my arm by the wobly splendor
of some distant sea
I count the opposites
of “is” and “was”
and come out astonished
between the element
of flesh
and the element
of hope

moving out of
moving out of help

ironing out my irony

draw close and close
the curtains
and knuckle down
here inside this other

torments of robes and sculptured rays
useless to the busy hands of the living

high bridge of la dolce vita
and the shadow planets
of Rahu and Ketu
tug at my heels

metamorphosis is the heart
of my life and freedom
is a war without a victory
hope is the thorny tale
of the dragon


my name
on two bags

my name on
the apples

at the close of…

break it up and start again

I am feeling good about Poland overall. I might stay in Europe. I must make a big decision quite soon. My alien card for America will expire in two years. Then if I don't return to America the door shuts. I can still visit with my UK passport though.

Also, heading into new territory. Breaking up with Ela.

Might go to London in the summer for two weeks.

Might stay in Poland next year and keep teaching and writing.

I am not ready to return to America quite yet. But I want to keep connected to the literary world and my artist friends in North Carolina and other places in the U.S. I don't want to be completely isolated.

Love, I tell you.

Finished Bohumil Hrabal's Too Loud a Solitude. Fucking brilliant! Best novel I have read in a long long time. Woke me up. Made me realise life is full of potential. It's not over baby!!

Now I am reading Salman Rushdie's Shalimar the Clown. Love it so far. Although I just started it.

Chaos and order. Stability and pity. hm . . .



The most ambitous cross cultural poetics project on the face of the planet. Issue 3 of Fascicle is now up and running.

Check it out:


Just finished reading the poets from Taiwan section. Fascinating interviews, poems, and multimedia work from contemporary innnovative poets from Taiwan:


I also have a collaboration with fellow Lucifer Poetics member Brian Howe. It's called This is The Motherfucking Remix. Check it out:


Plus plenty, and I mean plenty, of other delights!! Such as a chapbook by Allyssa Wolf called Sex.

I could go on and on.

It really doesn't get any better. CHECK IT!!!

a sequence to finish Wonderland

I am writing a sequence to finish Wonderland.

Here are a few sections (still rough). The formating is all left justified on blogger so the spatial concerns are all off. Some of this last section of Wonderland was written in Korea but most is happening right now looking back at the manuscript and its concerns.

It may change a lot over the next while. A lot more will be added. This is just day two.

Something is pulling me. Which feels good. Very good.

(August 1st 2006)


two bags to my name
a twitchy eye
and sour stomach

couldn’t take the silence, couldn’t take the red paste, couldn’t take the crowds, couldn’t take couldn’t take the

block buildings &
ants and ants and ants

moving over
verve and sense

left all my books
left my false
love and my
false smile

left left
always leaving

narrowing down

my life

the skinny

no room
for the gaunt
and unladen
and extremely

fog rolling
over stanzas
and false cities

leaving behind Korea for Poland
for no earthly reason

not dispossessed
of judge…


goddamn it. I am tired of living in a 50 year old lady's flat and getting by on $400 a month. It could be much much much worse though.

An interview with a school in Oklahoma city tomorrow. Hm . . .

it's too heavy

I'm always leaving and can't remember what I left. I sometimes wish I took a different road. But this is the road I am currently on. So be it.

I am finishing the manuscript I wrote in Korea called Wonderland. I re-looked at it today and found a way back into a manuscript. I can't get back into my Dada phase anymore. Which is fine. I just feel like all this writing is building and building. I have to release some of it. Get rid of it. Get it published. The unpublished manuscripts are piling up and sometimes they are just too damn heavy.

I think I am at heart a minimalist. But I have to work for the minimalism. I mean have to unload a lot to get to the minimalism. Godzeenie moves between very short poems (a few lines) and long enjambed breathless lines. The same is true of Wonderland. I think they are companions. Godzeenie and Wonderland are companions. So are my manuscripts from Resident Alien (Chain and Buckshot).

The Resident Alien manuscripts are concerned with "fou…

Katowice Train Station


Katowice Train Station

Rivers of piss collect at cafes. Watch where you walk. I eat what locals eat but refuse to tie my shoelaces. Tired smile with auburn beard. Pre-Gothic Post-Celtic wanderlust. Fur coated ladies strut past frozen men in sleeping bags reaching out for a light. A kiss for some short love. There’s doubt and then there’s doubt. The night train is coming. I move and meaning follows. Ten more years with the humble hands of the devil.

Bone dry

Don't know that money is so evil when you don't have it. Once you have too much of it it might get a tad evil. How about two more abstractions: money and freedom. Too much money and you're bound to lose some freedom. But not enough money and you've lost as well.

Money ain't evil.

Money is an exchange of energy.

Poetry is about the exchange of energy.

When I see the other side I can see my own side more cleanly.

Money liberates. Money dibilitates.

My mind needs a counterpose to work its way back into poetry.

I have adapted to ESL English.

I hear English too slowly.

I need to feel
language thinking
me back
into existence

I need to get
wet around
the ears.

My Friendly Neurotransmitters (rough draft)


In Poland they call unfiltered coffee Turkish. I don’t know how long this has been going on. My clothes are drying on a white rack by my window in Block 7A. I’m in a small cramped room in New Europe. A concrete grave in a maze of flats. These flats are my patrons. I’ve can’t get a grip. My ears keep ringing. Old receipts clutter my desk and I’m feeling a bit like a rat. I want to tell a story but I can only find beginnings. I am all beginnings. Snowflakes are falling and I still can’t see the future. Behold my muscles and all their friendly neurotransmitters. It’s not what I think but what thinks through me.

famous famous famous

Havel gave some good speeches near this spot to the good citizens of Prague. This is the site of revolution. Re volition.

prague square

Kutna Hora

nice wee town in Bohemia

St. Barbora (Kutna Hora)

communist race car driver

A Russian race car driver's grave in Bohemia

ever had a hernia???

so I have a nice wee hernia. I went to the Polish emergency room last night. It's a bit painful but not terrible. I need a small operation next week. Trying to figure out if the British government can cover it since I don't have Polish health insurance. My boss has me working under the table. It's just a small operation but I guess I need to do it because it could be dangerous.

I am not fond of my hernia!