Random, Abstract Poetry - 1/25/09

Background: 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. I create the artwork. My darker, semi-schizophrenic alter ego creates the poetry.

The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition I visited at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.

Examples: You can see actual articles from the Brooklyn Rail with the poetry on my website at - www.ErikVP.com/poetry


An Opportunity To Understand Something
You figure out where because,
I don't feel whatever happened,
Cannot change.

People called me, and then
They tell me to go.
That was pretty wild.

We went out to walk.
A guy says, "Where are you?"
"Well, I'm here."
He says, "No, you're not here."
"I was here."
And the guy's like, "No, you're not here."
And I remember you were.
I was devastated.

But then I realized.
I'm here.
People tell me to go back.
I can go back.

If I tell, do they know,
They are supposed to go?
They would have to go,
Right?

I know I can always go.
That moment, I realized that.
[Laughs.]


A Hollowed Out Onion

One then another.
Down to three.
Where the woods begin,
The lesser one remains.

Heavy weather turned to rain.
Clouds which loom.
A picturesque backdrop.

That evening,
Stars dangled above.
Mushrooms in fleece and wool socks.
Behind a velvet curtain,
The composer conducted.

A thick sonata.
An interwoven symphony.
False notes slipped.
The failed attempt to engage.

The influence of the masks then spoke:
Beyond science and demolition.
What was monolithic?
To have never loved another?

Deep in the morning, skeptically observe,
That which wouldn't exist.

On the sunny afternoon, our final day.
Dead, emptied, systematically wrecked.
Humor must fail.
The end, in the face of realities.

The audience, with thrilling vigor,
Showed a complex-minded capacity to laugh.