Thursday, May 15, 2014

Vote!!/Sunset's Implications/Bauman & Coletti Paintings/Bobby Byrd and Amy Trussell Poems/


(P1) Political


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(P2) Painting
2 Watercolor Paintings by Martin Bauman

("Untitled" and "Girl With Roses")











  Bizarro Comic 3-6-14

Sunset Bodega Bay
Ed Coletti (Acrylic March 2014)
 




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(P3) Poetical

Check out this wise and witty poem by El Paso poet 

Bobby Byrd in his recently released book  

Otherwise, My Life Is Ordinary

 

In Memory of the Famous Poet, 2010
“Being a famous poet
Is not like being famous.”
—John Ashbery

If I moved three miles south into Mexico
(I live in El Paso)
I could be shot for being a poet.
In fact, I could be shot for being alive.
Dead, I would be innocent.
That’s what Amado Carrillo Fuentes said.
“Only the dead are innocent.”
He died on an operating table trying to get a new face.
He no longer wanted to be himself.
But Amado was not a poet.
He was a narco-traficante and a murderer.
A vicious and evil man.
Although now he is innocent according to his own definition.
Me, I could be dead for the sin of being a poet.
For the sin of being alive.
Guilty, as charged.
Maybe I would also be famous then.
At least for a couple of days.
My wife would be weeping on CNN.
She’d sell a few of my poetry books.

--
Cinco Puntos Press is crowd-funding 
Here's a poem celebrating a pot of good beans. 

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The Soul Is An Albino Alligator 



Full -length mirrors doubling and tripling

won’t hold back the search

into the torqued spirit,

intriguing and silent,

or burning like an overturned car.

You yearn for nothing except

for a more satisfying yearning,

high octane, that could fuel a souped-up skylark,

not a low-grade tawdry trip through the

house of mirrors, mantled and dis-

mantled by the carny types

that mother always warned about.

One sits on a chair in the dirt

with a hand-held mirror putting on her face

wearing bloomers and a bustier

while her fake city of coaster scaffolding

and hung kewpie dolls rises around her,

the carny brothers

dangling cigarettes out their mouths over

dry grass and generators.

She builds make-believe walls around her

from thin air, acting like we don’t see her

make herself up.

The air darkens and the search-

lights go up, caressing the clouds,

suggesting that this is it,

this is what you’ve been meaning to come to. 

A lit wheel suspended in air for a moment

allowing time for that kiss you’ve been dying for.

Some snacks that could kill

your appetite until the next day, at least.

Those lotus-cut onion blooms

swimming in a vat of bubbling oil.

But your yearning is loftier than all that.

Inspiration: to hear Brigitte Bardot and her sidekick

sing “Bonnie and Clyde,” making murder

and mayhem sound elegant if not sexy.

To ride down the Florida Keys in a side-

car with some hellion at the driving wheel

searching for albino alligators

along sand blown train tracks

while shooting from the hip

for a soul retrieval half real.

- Amy Trussell 

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6 comments:

Bobby Byrd said...

Thanks, Ed. Many thanks.
By the way, crowd-funding the book--OTHERWISE, MY LIFE IS ORDINARY-- was successful and it's published.
My best to you.
Bobby

SpeakingUp said...

@ Bobby Byrd

I like your beans even if I haven't eaten any. I liked reading about them so much that I like them anyway. Thanks for letting me know how good they must be if everyone likes them. I even guess that nobody doesn't like them. Isn't that an infinity?

Deetje

http://edcolettip3.blogspot.com/os said...

Very nice! This is Rick Posner by the way.

http://edcolettip3.blogspot.com/os said...

Very nice Amy! I like.

Rick Posner

Philip Hackett said...

Ed, great! Hope you read for us at Live Worms 6/18.

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