Oct 19 2005
Man-Paste
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
[Note: This poem was created with words considered to be most hated by the poets of Literotica]
Sausage, bubbling with
Maggots and Man-Paste,
Squishes between my toes
As my throbbing manhood drips
Phlegm.
Oct 19 2005
How To Bury A Quaker
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
I drop the kids off at the pool,
Bake a brownie,
Make doughnuts,
Make some non-edible play-doh, and
Deliver an apple brown betty.
Oct 18 2005
A History Of Madness
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
The cigarette ash burns long as the song plays out on the stout man’s handsome victrola, turned softly toward the dawn. Music becomes a pawn in this game of life. His wife, a slight thing, wrings her hands and cries with eyes full of tears. Years pass and no one knows of the faded memories of seas and songs, of travels beyond this conduit of moments. Tents rise, and nomads rest, the dust and sand caressed their skin and eyes. Horses and camels with detailed enameled reins spit and whinny as the sun lights upon the face of Albert Finney as Geoffrey Firmin, drunk on loss and draped in ermine, waiting for Jacqueline, beset by ghosts that never rest. The faded streets that run along these ancient ways bring faded days to faded ends, resplendent in the dust of history. Continue Reading »
Oct 16 2005
Last night I attended the opening reception of a themed art show called Home and/or Homeless. One of the three jurors were in attendance, as were many of the participating artists. I found it fascinating that, even though there were an amazing variety of media and concepts, the entire show felt cohesive. Photographs, paintings, sculptures, mixed media, and installation pieces lived comfortably together in the gallery space, and outside in the Sato Garden. Continue Reading »
Sep 30 2005
Many years ago Brian, my friend and band-mate in Poor Old Joe, disassembled a guitar he had and gave the body to a co-worker who painted a lovely surrealist image onto it. When he got it back, all the parts went into a box.
Flash forward a good number of years. Brian’s sister, Judy, calls me to say that she found the box and Brian, now living in Korea, told her to give it to me. When I collected it, all the hardware and electronics were gone, with only the neck and body remaining. Although it took me several years to get motivated, I finally decided to see if I could put the thing back together with new hardware and electronics. Continue Reading »
Sep 07 2005
I have to admit that, after helping the East Village Association with their huge annual Tour Des Artistes event I was pretty burnt out, and not intending to participate in the SoundWalk this year. It came as some surprise that they wanted me to participate again and it was with no small hesitation that I agreed to do so. It was my intention, initially, to do a site specific installation using a parking structure but, unfortunately, there were some issues with the site that proved to be problematic. At that point, I began thinking about other options.
There is a part of me that’s always been drawn to the idea of energy transmuting, of it changing as it passes through one medium into another. Last year’s SoundWalk piece dealt with that is a very obvious, and loud, way. This year I decided to try something a bit more subtle, and quiet. Continue Reading »