life in the desert

Hey fellows, here is a little poem I wrote while in the car driving in the desert outside of Marfa. And then we stopped the car and I read in front of the mountains. Life is good.

box - tonight

Here is the penultimate video in my 'box' series. And hey, whoa, look out: September is Sound Month. What does that mean? I have no clue! Ha ha ha! Also, boho coco writing group 1 is coming!

box - fate

Is that a giant concrete block behind you Christopher? Oh, why yes it is. Shall I read you a poem, then? Why, yes you shall. Thank you. No, thank you.



text:
box: fate


it is a summons now
to leave ourselves

wayward instead
of
exploring forgotten

spaces.

I know wobble and
tempt to detect a
useless sculpture

in the plains of some country.

if I succeed I will
write a book;

if I fail I will

take back into town a twisted
tree limb

and toss it in a well to hear the sound

collapse around brick lining.

fate would have it either way,
smirking,

shrieking, and tucking itself away
in

a tiny box.

box! orderly chaos!

Hey fellows, here's the second installment involving: myself, poetry, poetry written by myself, Donald Judd, boxes, poems about boxes, video, a camera, mud, overcast skies, and Marfa! Enjoy.



text:
box: orderly chaos


close the tiny boxes
and
return to an old attic
and imagine

a grand collapse.

fate, too, is part
of
it,

the spinning sundial, the hall
of mirrors,
the clown and the

joking pastors.

destiny,

too,

inside the empty containers.
it is written

that when unknown, there remains infinite possibility.

we can jump from the attic window,
and perhaps as yet undiscovered,

we may fly instead.

box!

Hey guys, here's some more video from Marfa. In this video (and the following), I'm reading my poetry series 'box' in front of the famed Donald Judd boxes at the Chinati Foundation. It sure was a great day, and I hope you'll enjoy this series with me. And I hope you don't get annoyed with how many times I use the word 'box.'



text:
box: little boxes


the auburn sky over the falling
boxes

is taut and thrums.

the uncertainty of the tiny things,
what

might rest inside, takes

us lusty

and we arrive nowhere.

upon

opening the damned tiny things,

there is nothing.




p.s. ...box!

back from Marfa

Hey guys, it was my birthday this last Saturday and I went out to Marfa to celebrate. Also, Erin and I visited New Mexico (to see Carlsbad Caverns which were very good indeed!), and we drove back through west Texas to come back home to Austin. It was an amazing trip that delivered some fine material, so do check back throughout the upcoming weeks to see the Marfa/west Texas posts. Here's a little teaser to wet your palette: a video of a train leaving Marfa with Wilco's "Ashes of American flags" playing in the car. Check out dumbsville.blogspot.com too, to see the flip side of my trip.