J.L. Knox

The reasons I love Jennifer L. Knox are too many to list. But her ability of writing dark humored narratives within her poetry is something I admire and support in big way (you either identify or you don't - very little straddling the lines on this one). Her work isn't like what we were reading in AP English during high school - but maybe if we had I wouldn't have spent years saying I hated poetry (which ws probably due to a lack of understanding).

If My Love For You Were an Animal
Jennifer L. Knox

It would have three legs left, but only need two.
It would be easy to catch, but hard to kill.
It could hold its breath all winter and sleep upside down, anchored under the ice in kelp.
When wet, it would smell like clarinet reeds.
It would break every thing in the house—but purposely, silently, secretly, one item at
a time, over hundreds of years, so no one would notice.
Its cry, like an electrical tower wrestling a giant tinfoil dolphin in a meteor crater;

its purr, low enough to drive snakes from their dens.
It would be flightless, but you could always find it hiding up high.
Its name would mean magnet.

Ants would march towards it over mountains, and across the sea floor.
You could elbow it as hard as you wanted to right in the ribs.
It would be so loyal, if you fell asleep before you took the sleeping pill,

it would slip the sleeping pill under your tongue.

Check out her books Gringo Like Me and Drunk Before Noon if you really want to appreciate her.

-another reason I love her is that she looks like she is going to bake you cookies after school, but writes like that. Who knows, maybe she writes while the cookies are baking

Poetry. I think I've heard of that.

Currently am working on the computer to compile and edit all the text that I'm using....believe it or not, it's a bit faster (even though it's less aesthetically pleasing) than typewriters. This would be the text on the small pamphlet journals.

Some of it you may recognize from the stationery and other parts I haven't been able to use yet. In a way they've become poems...they're aren't resolved, but I think they seem less randomly connected.

_____________

An eighteen year-old spring chicken

– correction, rooster.

He had only seen five rainbows his entire life

He had the hands of someone who longs to play the piano

But never would

Smoke poured from his lips as innocence simultaneously poured from his eyes

His torso was a mile long of Nevada flatness

He smelt like he traveled somewhere

Experienced something most of us haven’t

He is the knot in the worms of my brain

He was the Q-tip I couldn’t resist jamming into my ear

I could hear the record static of his voice behind his words

Kissing him was licking a piece of bruschetta

His eyes were bouncing…I could never catch them

Just bounced away

He fucked my best friend

He left me a broken chair

I feel okay about it

I didn’t tell him that he was asshole

I also didn’t tell him that his pants were unzipped

I wanted to bite him

I wanted to marry him

(quotes by and/or inspired by twelve people)

_____________

A hit of homeless acid and dog’s blood in my mouth

Piss in the milk jug and sheep eyes in the cupboard

Two pancakes and a handful of ham in my purse

White stains on my shirt and smoke in my hair

Peanut butter fudge and a tarantula named Betty by the highway

Freedom in the fridge and bacon in my glass

(quotes by and/or inspired by five people)

______________

It’s hard to become unconscious

Whiskey masks sadness

Masks happiness

I woke up underneath my bed

The lights were all on and the floor shook

I look how I feel

I feel like shit

Look into the mirror

Old soul

Junky

Self-loathing

We are masochists

We crave self-destruction

Watching the beautiful rot

Comfortable in dead end roads

Making the same decisions I made last year

I want to light myself on fire and jump out the window

I’m going to cough up a testicle and kill myself

I can’t wait to I die alone

(quotes by and/or inspired by nine people)

__________

Staring out the window as if something would ever happen

Begging for stimulation

Her eyes shook, too excited to focus on anything

They ejaculate when she speaks

She had a mouth like a bulldog

Her teeth were always stained red

Blood, chianti, beets

Only pretty when she frowned

(quotes by and/or inspired by four people)

_____________

My sexual education program was taught be evangelical Christians

Some call it a penis

But really it’s just a large floppy clitoris

There’s not enough difference

If it was big I’d want to lick it

I don’t understand

Men that are straight

Men that are gay

Men that are women

Men that are men

No wonder everyone is pregnant

My body told me

Facts based on soft sciences

(quotes by and/or inspired by six people)

Bones, Books, and....BUNNIES!

Getting the clavicle "mended" (a nice euphemism for pins and plates) tomorrow. So the work over the weekend will be limited.

"satan is always behind us"

Blank journal

"she needs a man

she needs a woman

she needs a lot of things"

Blank journal

"thirteen people within twenty-eight square miles"

Descriptions of 13 different people

Prototype book

Still need to add  images - going to try image transfers

"fourteen people within four months"

14 quotes I overheard and arranged in an order to create relationships between the disconnected

Prototype book

has nothing to do with IP, but I can't stop staring at it.

Typewriter Conversations

Many people have asked me why I use a typewriter opposed to a computer.

"Am you one of those tragically hip kids that is just too cool for computers?"

Obviously not, as I write this blog. But I think typewriters are the next best thing to handwriting in terms of having a personality. Each typewriter is different as is the relationship of the typewriter with the writer. You see the mistakes, the movement, the hands that touched the machine.

After this statement I was immediately pointed in the direction of Naked Lunch. I watched the movie last night and have even more of an interest in the personality typewriters carry. However, if my Royal turns into a bug-like creature and begins speaking to me... I may start typing on my Mac.

Naked, Naked, Naked, Naked, Naked LUNCH.

Thank You Judith Henry

Overheard Series

"Amusing and quirky, the "Overheard series is a uniquely designed record of conversational snippets heard in public settings. "Overheard at the Museum, the first in the series, captures the spectrum of humor, the irreverence, and the appreciation for Fine Art that museum-goers display. Revealing quotes are paired with compelling black-and-white photographs that show onlokers engaged in their individual and universal museum experiences.
Soul-baring, intimate, sordid, chock full of wit and wisdom, it's ear candy for the eavesdropper. These books are sure to become icons of popular culture."

Overheard in the bookstore

Overheard in the museum.