Art
by David Mendez
Article
Artifact
Artforum
Artisan
Artnews
Arthropod
Artist
Articulate
Art In America
Arthritis
Artificial
Artcellar
Artillery
Artichoke
Artifice
transformation
intent
where are you
in the work
In The Bottom Of His Bowl
by Ray L. Martin
In the bottom of his bowl were words that
only he understood, messages written to
himself while shaving. Yes, we're talking
about the act itself, there being no
significance beyond this mirror and
himself.
Not everything was in focus, the images
in the bowl, actually a cup, foamed over
and lost their sharpness. Blades, many of
them, spun into being with blood as a
theme. Joggers seemed to hop rather than
run, Were they hurt? They'd been cut but
he paid them no mind. He'd seen them
through a window next to the mirror. You
can't be expected to think for more than a
few moments a day.
In My Cock and Bully Days
by Daniel Thompson
In my cock and bully days
On the beauty/beast express
When I'd run my reckless eye
And any old phrase would do
When thick as thumbs in the green
Thief wind, I made the round ground's
Spinning skin my house of joy
And the bouquets of poses
I would toss to the ladies
Were my flowers of black sunlight
Cracked through the rock
In the midnight of rivers
Where I washed out my virtue
Happy as a hobo
With his dreams in a bottle
No dog-haired saint in the fox-
Fore of God nor spellbound bee
In the dandelion's roar
Lived in the lovelight as I
And the heart, still shining, sings
Waves Breaking
by Steve Canada
Waves breaking
like lies
on the
rocks of
a country
that grinds
you into
its money
The Chicagoland Fibune
by Joffre Stewart
Barbara Brothman
tricked the an-archists
into buying a scab paper
by interviewing them
for the Tribune
Narcissus
fell in
and drowned ...
Rephotographs
by Jim Lang
a pawl
has slipped
or kicked out
from gender
blending -
the smooth face of a woman
the smoothed face of man
the palindrome
wound tight
to the center
hilariously
flails
unwinding
undone
done
the rt hand
left
in reflection
P.I.R.S.A.W.
by steve e gloom aka Steve Melton
The price is right studio audience women
Are unbeautiful and have unfurnished minds.
I see
And hear them
Screaming
Dashing
Flailing
They called
HER NAME -
She came.
She came on down
Oohing and dying
This is the pathetic substance of life
Pitiful, like the price is right, Me.
Blank. Coffee. Easy. Chair.
The price is right studio audience women
Annihilate all that is real.
Their screams are my screams.
Their sordid pricing dreams I share
The Situation of the Pacifist
by Joffre Stewart
The situation of the pacifist
is that s/he will not murder
under any circumstances...
Some people don't believe in absolutes.
It turns out they mean g-D:
why couldn't they say that...
But I've noticed an absolute difference
between myself and god:
I exist
I'm just a model absolute...
Poor Self Trait #6711
by Mary Ellen May Salo
Upon entering a clothing store or clothing
department of a store, a distinct tendency
to feel headachy or exhausted or ravenously
hungry or slightly nauseated often interfere
with my intention to go shopping.
But later I feel sorry for my Poor Self
because my winter jackets are all paint-
stained and my shoes are not Reeboks.
My Poor Self is between ages 11 and 13,
no matter how old I get.
Days Without Dreams
by Daniel Thompson
Days without dreams
Night after night, the dark
No kisses, no hugs, no body
Next to body for 5, 6, 7 years
Who knows? Who can remember
How much time? The sentence goes on
This life without sex, nothing physical
Between us, everything material between us
Smoke and ivory, the gestures of sorrow
The narrow comfort of words, food, anger
I've blown up -- a cartoon of flesh
At one with its own balloon thoughts
Moment by moment, born again
A wallflowering romantic, fallen in love
Howling like Humpty Dumpty
Bitter among the roses
When the moon is full
It all stopped years ago
Who knows now?
After the abortion
After the toxic shock
After my hands
Around her throat
With the Reptiles
by Steve Canada
With the
reptiles
I am waiting
waiting on
the rocks
for the
sun to go down
ragged
by Luigi-Bob Drake
after resting
belly-down on the bed
i turn back to you,
leaving on the sheet
a print
in menstral blood
of my cock.
after you go, i jerk off
carefully aiming my cum
at the rorschach-blot
of yr blood.
Portrait of a Mind * <- censored
by Patricia Fallon
Forgetting
To be a
Mother
Now
That they
are
gone
and I can remember
the
beginning
When I did not know
how hard the
middle would be
and
desolate the end
was before
I forgot
Wax Paper Becomes Mantra - An Activity
by Kristen Ban Tepper
If the pectorals
were unattached,
the breakwater breathing
Sleepy newspapers
overhandled
no longer care for
The cradles in her sur
can warm,
the wax milky and ser
A tail or spine would
be useful
ck, the sand would
more severly with a
smooth the slick and
gum of wax forever
imagine breaking the water like that
Slam? Mineral or metal?
Ingot, red brass or
slate?
Rows
of double gills
it would suffer
water
Brought ba
coat her
clever rasp
with no ears
and sorrowful eyes
Pinnacled or pinned,
inanimate trash,
she remains
design
the future
Brittle angry styrofoam,
corky and mummified,
can never be the same
face
liquid
Imagine the pectora
attached to the h
a triangular slur
on fish body
She had hurled across
the face of a doll
herself at once
flared, or flat
under a tree of lit color
and silver chime, or charm
she had been hurled across
the face of a doll
oe useful
of double gills
wax,
under
she or instinct only clapped
away dark green grey sand
clapped and released the
friction into water,
not air
flattened the coating of her
body on the
ocean floor
New sheer aquatic skins
for skimming
Anna Manta
jilted lover
by steve e gloom aka Steve Melton
a so
fa bed
melo
dra
ma un
folds.
Regal Donut
by Christopher Franke
Your my favor-
ite jelly roll.
My! I enjoy
injecting jel-
ly through my pole
into your bel-
ly. Never mind
about my ver-
ses bean sil-
ly, willing nel-
ly, you're for me!
Let wishes-ewe
be ram to oui.
As bakers knead
dough, beaus re gals.
Coolish on Congress
by Christopher Franke
thy sting is here
in battle of sexes
a gentle reminder
having second thoughts
confidence-builder
contraceptive
field wide open
up to a certain point
jump helps keep down
seeks quality fare
coming for honors
emission
railings greeted by 'hallelujahs'
buck stops
a real corker
coolish on congress
Brain Cell
by Ryosuke Cohen
In their reasons they think art is material. I think art is information.
The personality and creative power of all the persons who follow it
spread as information. We positively use the stamps and envelopes of
others. We are glad to use or offer them. There is no need for us to
stress our own originality. It is a change of 180 degrees from the past.
Mail art network is the most wonderful movement that can solve the
various problems of present day art and artists : - anthority, exchange
of information, too notional art, mistaken holiness and so on.
Now I am just like a space pilot who is traveling by space ship. I am
looking for new stars and going on a travel. Each star is a small one
compared to the space. The earth and the moon, Mars and Saturn are
different from each other. In the same way, every star has its own
difference, (personality and originality). But it doesn't have the
light and weight that can control all the space.
Well, I'll title my work "Brain Cell", because the structure of a brain
through a microscope looks like the diagram of mail art network.
Thousands of Neurons clung and piled up together are just like mail
art network. I think.
The Rue Teen Age
by Jim Lang
This journal is serial risk
But the breakfast is more than the biscuit
Writing should be a porn function
The form as self deconstructiony
Till afflatus will no longer fix it
Self Portrait
by Steven B. Smith
I am an alcoholic and a
drugoholic and a
bookoholic and a
filmoholic
and
a
high
o
holic
and
(i use laser beams)
I drink it if I got it and I
smoke it til it's gone
Poor Self Traits
by Steven B. Smith
Fish flesh
Maybe a movie
Got habits I got to reinforce
Eat dry tuna out of a can
Cold pork and beans
Use Vitamin-E cream
To masturbate
To dominante anal fantasies
I could die daily
And maybe do
Let's find out how much wine
We have
Before we break out in jubilation
And greater relief
I'm gonna quit drinking
And doing drugs.....tomorrow
Which justifies today
merry
by Jim Lang
DAYLITE
TO BURN A
SHAKSPEER PLAY
CE
A WOODEN
HEATH
WAT HO
LO! THE NEW SUN FIRST QUARTER
NO QUARTER
FULL
SUPERMAN RED CAUSES RAIN
FROM JUST A PIECE OF THE SKIE
NEX DAY no unity in memry ya see
MAINTAINING HIS AGE
THE TRANS
ACTOR
COURTS A
MISS NO
DRAG INTENDED SHE KISSING
HER CRADLED SELF
THE DWARF MAN IN THE SEED HE KISSING
THEM BOTH ACROSS TIME
THE RAISED AND THE RAZOR
Diver
by John Bennett
There was twine from my eye to the
bird held under water, stretching a
wing. It pulled at my lid, heavy like I
carried a bucket of oil. I could almost
gloat to the bottom and grab the
coins. In my sleep I just float the
surface, mouth under water, drowned. Diving,
my head's full of string and I fly. And my
eyes sag, sinking alone in their sockets
Close Personal Friend
by Mark Bloch
It is because you are one of
my closest personal friends
that I have taken this special
time to write you this warm
and extremely personal
message.
Pit of Sheer Delight
by Doug Hoppe
Her oily body crawled
over broken fingernails.
"Damn it!" she said
"How did THESE get in here?"
The bold traitor had scattered them about.
It was his latest effort to
cease her noiseless, naked crawling.
Suspecting this,
she continued on,
eyes gleaming,
nails crunching.
Our last thoughts --
reflections in waves.
Pills help us function.
Socks tear us down.
Our lost thoughts --
unable to reclaim.
fragile moments
the room will not stay
So the Talk's Gettin' Heavy
by Daniel Thompson
So the talk's gettin' heavy
And I tell her, Listen, Nancy
I'm no good; I'm just a bum
I'm not even a good poet
You're not even a good bum, she says
Well, after that, I mean, after laughing
What's there to do but make love
Archivio
by Lancillotto Bellini
sal
bia
cor
qui
ave
del
goi
cer
gra
die
Life is
My favorite art
to summarize
by Melissa J. Craig
to summarize, to briefly outline
having crust like a shell
can be touched, relating to sense of
touch, tangible
suggestive of, pertaining to, full of
inordinate desire, greed
tightly drawn, tense
boyish, immature, childish
steadily industrious, diligent, busy
continuing through the year,
recurring regularly
Fumbling The Buttons
by John Bennett
A tide of diarrhea blinking like a
xmas tree rotting in a bucket. That's
what I thought when burning and I
wanted a damp. My shoes were
hamburgers left in the rain and I
remembered a motel; pink neon
shimmering in gravel. What's in my
pocket, sticking the coins in a lump.
And why these lights in my hand
flashing as I reach your face? The
inside of my shirt's a mirror I guess
and I only see you when I take it off
The Difficulties
by John Bennett
Backward I rubbed my butt and buts,
always nothing but where I've been.
Looking up the hole would I see
ahead? The face, laughing in tears,
just a smear above the sink. But I
stumble, butt I, like thrashing in a
mylar bag, the air runs out.
Can't I take my pants off,
be spinning I, eyeing it all?
yr voice
by Jim Lang
on liking
th sound
ov yr voice
in my mouth
Breath and Dream
by Daniel Thompson
A leap
In the dark
You're on the bed
You lean
Your back
Against mine
It's nice
To have a body
To sleep with
The night
Sighs
The serpent
In the ear
Breath and dream
Conspire, repeat
It's nice
To have a body
To sleep with
Even a dog
Like you
With fleas
Thots & Dreams Are Lying Deads Deeds
by Jim Lang
First ya loved me
Then fell out
Now ya under stand me
Without double doubt
Relations null
Marriagebly dull
Unsaltyd penis
From the
Seeming
Hull
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