crested scravel hill as black horizon smudged against the sky charcoal rubbed to soft edges against a deepening cerulean backdrop… the first rose, graceful up above blown-ink treetops fat, effulgent orange chinese lanterns against the eastern mountain skyline cavalcade ensued in bursts of backlit magenta, canary yellow, azure blue flames grumbled in charcoal baskets burstContinue reading “skyfire celebration – 1995”
Category Archives: Writers on the Storm
tribute to ginsberg
i read three days too late buried in a back page of the statesman-journal that ginsberg passed away. o obscurity o duplicity you once packed concert halls and universities with beatnik eccentricities wrapped up smack-dab in the center of controversy the midst of which is a frenetic collage of hybrid ethnicity o queerboy sad aContinue reading “tribute to ginsberg”
insignificance
fragmented dust motesupon your white windowsilldiffused by your breath scatter in sunlight drift within gentle backdrafts to rest at cat’s pawsswatting sciroccos,intangible currents sift,seep through bare floorboards carry fine powder upwards on backdrafts to land at its origin speaks only hushed whispers seeks your breath’s due attention.– j sheridan fenn c. 1997
humanity 1997
sometimes when the beast unwinds and sinks its polished fangs into the twisted veins and capillaries of my mind i find i’m metamorphosized with fuel-injected invective a mass-mediated derelict misdirecting emotions into anti-venin words barely heard by a functionally illiterate flock of fuck-ups uh…hello…can you read me loud and clear…? he’s breaking up he’s breakingContinue reading “humanity 1997”
clarity
roadside ditch blackberry brambles reflect wet honeyed sunshine… a flash of inspiration. a wistful mist clings, lingers to forever green firs, blue spruce, and rusty autumn oak leaves, as if in tribute to night’s memory, while my breath hangs in front of me, a genie happy to be released from its bottle of skin toContinue reading “clarity”
railyard
stoned in separation anxiety my spirit hovers, then snaps back to me on the thread of your wrecking ball voice. don’t disturb the moment, man just wanna watch the trains roll in, read dim graffiti scrawled on rusted boxcars wonder where the hell the artists are and just how far these iron horses have run.Continue reading “railyard”
convert
searched for jesus in a bottle one night…
god comes in many flavors:
jehovah, yahweh, allah, buddah
prince of peace…
mescaline, opium…
called mine valium,
the man-made god.
implored him for a miracle,
an immaculate reflection
some inspired conception
poetic nature
never suffer sparse subject matter…
writer’s block is bullshit.
poised artfully upon that smudged
line which barely distinguishes ecstasy
from mental exhaustion
consider dementians
of parallel psyches…
jockey for position
on a tightrope current
ready to snap under stress of
overload.
nervous breakdown dream state
land of liberty, home of the free…
Double-Down on Doublespeak
I clearly remember 1984. Not just the book, but the actual year. Yes I’m that old. I was 14 and had already been led into a deep love of fantasy literature by the likes of Robert Jordan, Lloyd Alexander, Ursula K Le Guin, and Anne McCaffrey. I loved science fiction in comic books and tvContinue reading “Double-Down on Doublespeak”
growth
beyond the chain-link fence
alternated ornamental evergreens
and fire bushes blaze
a barrier to foreign ground
surround a smooth, black lot
of high-financed cars
in pristine, seasonal shades
made with pride
in germany,
japan,
switzerland
while on this side,
a ‘58 chevy flatbed stands
rusted and forgotten
by all except lilac bushes, bluegrass,
and blackberry strands
snaked through the grill
in a testament to growth.
Continue Reading