Random Abstract Poetry - 11/07/08

Here is some more random abstract poetry to start off your Friday.

I take the Brooklyn Rail newspaper and underline words and phases in the articles that catch my attention. Then circle a word or phrase for the title. It's more of a subtractive process, taking a page of words and editing down to a poem or maybe several. It's kind of backwards from the traditional process of adding words to a blank page. But it works for me. The pieces of newspaper with these random abstract poems get used as collage material in my artwork.


How It Changes
Limitations, imperfections.
Talking in your sleep.
They're connected to each other.

Forgetful, I can't lose it.
So the idea became more.
I saw progress.
A bizarre thing to witness.

Being forgetful.
False memories will fade over time.
A different kind of reality.


Time
How one could not remember?
Random over time.
I would close my eyes.
Try to remember.
And try again and again.

Loss of memory.
This thing that grew.
Something you could see.
It was everything.

Part of it was moving through.
We didn't know how.
Fragments of her mind.
Trying to connect.

The only way was through.
Give us an idea.
Her past was all mixed up.


From the 60's
Two parts coming together.
Like a certain color.

I find an idea.
And think it emerges as something visual.

Described in detail.
How does the idea develop?

I was curious.
I found a book of the future.
Most of them were wrong.

I like weather reports.
I love following time.


Psychedelic or Islamic?
Looking at Twombly.
Cut out and manipulate.
My hand drumming in ink.

What I do now.
Making myself dizzy.

What about phrenology?
You've got to believe that it's real.
But most of my patterns are.


A Book on Nostradamus
Pseudo-science.
Studying bumps on people's heads.
I'm drawn to pseudo-science.

There is no tangible proof.
That thing.
Your use of pattern are patterns?
I look at a lot of things as invented.


The drums
On a pad with a metronome.
Making circular scribbles.
The movement was similar.
The metronome my drum.

It was a personal mark.
From that moment on.

Charting memory.
The works are extensions.
Alone, when no one is watching.


Strategy
You're setting up a duel.
That's happening in real life.
My drawings more personal.

I feel an itch.
I mark it.
Then transfer it to paper.
Like drawing a map.

You're interested in games?
Actually, I stopped playing.


Experiment
I don't understand.
I use specific bits of information.
Sometimes it's uncomfortable.
But I want to.

I feel like something I didn't completely make.
Shifting as you go.
I'll set up some way to push two things together.
And see what comes from that.

Change it.
Combine it.
And over time, I'll lose track.

What I had.
A lot of it is set up.


These Are The Things
Let's get out of here.
Out a side door.

I thought about the watch, presenting itself.
I had no moral qualms.
That was obvious.

A fear of getting caught.
Most people do.

Recurring nightmares.
Fueled by grotesque stories.
Mostly stories, I prefer to think.


I Like To Let Things Happen
Sensation into language.
Like something I couldn't process.
I need to get lost.
It's difficult to make sense.


Outright Deception
Come up with something more.
Removed, intricate.
A financial maneuver, perhaps.

The actual event.
Running over homeless people
The idea will never live.

Years entirely gone.
I move forward like a shark.

A story in the paper, about blood-red walls.
Wrought iron railing.
A 70's tv movie.
The landscape of Los Angeles.
Intrigued by something long.

A cartoon of talking tools.
A little off the formula.
The tools have something to hide.