Frank’s Log III

My voice. My own fucking voice. Well, who knows? That one fret on that one string of that one guitar effects a certain note, but we wouldn’t say that fret has its own voice. That one key thingy on that one clarinet doesn’t have its own voice. The instrument is the voice. So what frickin… More Frank’s Log III

Jackson Pollock and the Periwinkle Alligator – A poem?

Red blue seven white Antelope cheers Running beige Today or maybe another time Alphabet sunrise Making peaches scream Yellow-green anger floods And spatial snakes Who’s gold With me under textural siege Explain the sky while I It’s true, that fuchsia shines Periwinkle alligator                                        unfolding in my arms or yours Nothing says “New York” like tangerine… More Jackson Pollock and the Periwinkle Alligator – A poem?

Red blue seven white Antelope cheers Running beige Today or maybe another time Alphabet sunrise Making peaches scream Yellow-green anger floods And spatial snakes Who’s gold With me under textural siege Explain the sky while I It’s true, that fuchsia shines Periwinkle alligator                                        unfolding in my arms or yours Nothing says “New York” like tangerine… More Jackson Pollock and the Periwinkle Alligator – A poem?