Gene Autry was a better singer than actor & a better businessman than singer. in the annals of film he lacks the stature of John Wayne. Autry's oaters were strickly kiddie matinee material. but over the decades his fan base has includ'd Sonny Rollins & Harvey Pekar. & he has a special spot in my personal history.
Gene Autry was the first movie star I ever saw in person. I was abt 5 when Uncle Tom took his daughter Regina & me to Cleveland to see him perform. I don't remember a thing abt it. many years later I'd see Autry at the American Cinema Awards dinners in Beverly Hills.
so today I tip my Alta Calidad hat to the memory of Gene Autry on his 100th birthday.
Polyhedron n.4: Fleurs w.h.auden, p. eluard, m.yourcenar, t.s. eliot
"remember ... poetry makes nothing happen" ... ne brûlez pas les parfums dans les fleurs fleurs qui sortent de terre au printemps ............................ and the dry stone no sound of water ..................................................................... (arranged by v. fiorentino, r. morici and g.monte)
Sine titulo (untitled) Francesca Saieva, Chiara Palillo, Guido Monte
Guido Monte, Francesca Saieva Sine titulo (untitled) Ennius, Paul Celan, Viviana Fiorentino, Seferis . Mundus caeli vastus constit silentio once large heavens held on silently – nobody’s rose, Niemandrose vuoto dai ciechi creduto cosa only void, thing by blind men’s eyes .. (on the asphodels
the blind men are sleeping…) ........ I slide towards the night. Silence… lo’-dumyyà. Waiting… qal d'mama daqqà. On death dust ich finde keine Ruhe (H.J.Krauss); I grope, but in the deep dark I don’t find my silence. Silent idol by human manifacture, silent plaything… no trick can blow into the Being (A.Neher).
I writhed on the floor before my first breath expired. Someone called the ambulance. And I declined the accident. They came too late. My second breath was kissing my third. They reversed in anger. And I caught a bus for the sixth gale bursting my lungs in midnight panic.
(sears) "just sitting here, a bench" (wiggle) eyes up across two fingers pinching lashes pulled "determine once more, make, perhaps" drive (n) streets curving "an analogy, parallel" close picked essential torn corner (turn) read pasted "shaped what, we" 'meated tired ankles (13/14) flatten'd down spray (ing) removed once/twice leaning (up) left over "remove it, and guess" threes time three
cardboard no foreplay makes treacle despair a has-been lolly gap down to a stasis many fat man (stet) white boy rinses with this squal- a kind of inner paint he recedes I passed already on him now he's here again not much although some referential notice points to I have left to say or
stumbling lets walk sideways rewind the mind jetlaged he lives in a bag strangely enough his obsession "snuff" early widespread she begins to dread shit goddamn white trash can black disciples he's so really very shallow twister in the pisser a flow of nothingness!
jacked up marbles roll between lines bruised heart bleeds systematically tragedy romances the soul a description of life through letters and numbers fingers that strangle deemed insane so much shame purity bleeds through eyes incurable
i sweetly surrender to you to become me intensify wild eyes i'll swallow your tears and consume your fears rejected by no one but everyone eats my flesh digested through a tainted perspective brilliant thoughts of a betrayed youth destroyed by himself he reflects on yesterday's tomorrow surrendering to a life of sorrow dinosaur tears in love with a beauty queen colored in green in love with a man blinded by foggy goggles beautiful intertwine devoured by wine
number one national best seller despite the odds a chaotic man sincere to a blameless drudgery lugging around so much blame contrary to the shame shameless eyeballs existing in a resistance there's a distinction though a shady fellow really a man to the i to the p to the u to the l to the a to the t to the i to the v to the e toward a life of dysfunction incurable sociopath beautifully insane
words written beneath a stargazed reality creating obsession he revels in fantasy demanding loyalty from a stranger he shrinks down to investigate her every move lurking behind eyes sleepless nights in her blindspot a presence so real but undetected unsuspected her body language rejects his she evaporates into thin air
she became a beautiful moment BEAUTY! is in the eye of her beholder BEAUTIFUL! a reality so intense craving her body mouthwatering overflowing like a stream colliding between perspectives of utter perfection BEAUTY! visually pleasing amazing saturated with fragrance vanilla delight creates flashes of insight such an insightful gentleman caresses her body BEAUTIFUL! she stares hard refusing to open the door to her heart a heart tied up in knots reclaiming her words never understood BEAUTY! she entertains his advances he becomes entranced a dysfunctional silence very oddly behaved she becomes intrigued by his persistence unusual and terribly dramatic BEAUTIFUL! creative in all her ways he recognizes purity through her eyes a spectrum of color green blue yellow brown purple blended together like crackled mosaic he's mesmerized tantalized visions betray his security goggles distort his reality rewinding back to that beautiful moment
the tiny record in my head is playing the tiny echo and the bunnymen is people rollin' 'round on my carpet mixin' up the medicine the klieg light trumpet let's play pretend in our fake little house on our fake little lawn our mini little green wishes and the rug and the rug out to the cinema sometimes dinner too and sometimes here i lay and sometimes it's my and my and my and i and i and i and me and me and me and you andy you weren't a man until i met you andy you were not some people float over call them best friends visualize if you will squat your best rodin squat it too far down whisper vulgar i love you for every single thing that you are it's all mixed up whiskeytown at the club in the microwave at the factory at the downtown whomever knows you there
"Kiss me and you will see how important I am. " --Sylvia Plath
For nearly two years, Calliope Nerve Magazine has been bringing you the best in underground, avante garde, and original poetry and short-lit. Now one of our featured creators Sheila Murphy sits down for an interview with Calliope editor Nobius Black.
Due to a limited print run. This issue is only available via email to the general public and you can get yours by sending an email request to nobius AT gmail.com.
Submission info is located here. (We are always looking for talent.) Internet link trades, advertising, and flier swaps available.
Username and password. Why do you call me sir sir? At the beginning of my day I make enough cigarettes. For. Not until the paperwork is finished. Your heartbeat serrated these prisms of aching leaves. Just look behind you. Stumbling on uneven concrete a spill of timber light whitening painful birds stripping tongues. There’s thick glass in through I call out to you I call and talk five minutes. Then the crickets switch keys go up a whole step and you can still hear the mill. The moon a wedge of anemic lemon grinning. I could even be watching TV through your window with you thickens near the atop loose shoes. Urban brands up to 70% off and shit. However many churches there have been in the world ahead of you someone walking hidden straining to plant those shanks of run light in you let him to air conditioned to continually eulogize seeking distinct units. The moon sucks at another empty parking lot up on the cracked concrete shimmering in the sweats of summer’s last sugar. There’s a used car lot at the corner of your bruised fruit. Broadway feed and pet supply paterson 1920 gyros & more closed for repairs charleston car washes inc. Could we interlace the sound of traffic with kissing? You do know it’s 90% humidity out where an abanoned shopping cart slits the sky burning away all the weather. Crickets pound a sleighbell beat on weight. The spiders are tethered to threads and gliding. I park where reflectors summon mailboxes out of the night’s bath. It’s busier on tuesdays. Cars nightriding leave a garland stink of honeysuckle behind. Renaming dislocates. Those deep purple clouds skimming above us have surely slipped out of their cuffs. Gills open in the road swimming anonymous cars red the corners to townhomes littered and lit-up but when no-one moves it gets darker. You’re broken somehow but fixing you breaks you even more. I distinguish horizon because its deep softness excommunicates me.