24.1: CANDYLANDS
Del Ray Cross: (3/25/2003)
we're giving distance a chance by staying together
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffDel Ray Cross: (3/20/2003)
Dear Jim, WAR!! Pls keep postcards comin! Last one I got arrived w/o a stamp (goodie for my luck!) and that was a while back. Sunny and windy w/headache in SF w/ birds and peaceniks whom I passed this morning …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffDel Ray Cross: (3/19/2003)
white socks and dirty dishes I haven't mustered to clean honestly with my head like this I feel someplace like nowhere which is probably good but there's this pain in my neck too from resting said head against the shower …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffDel Ray Cross: (3/17/2003)
Here's my war poem: fuck the almighty war! I climb the steps up to Whaleship Plaza, walking while writing again. “No Smoking!” But look at this war and sunshine in the streets! And little plastic airplanes in the sky. Coit …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffStephen Ratcliffe: 12.6
streaked song sparrow pecking up seeds from table in right foreground, blue jay on pine branch above it, green passion vine-covered fence on left Ashbery's “today it is possible not to speak in metaphors,” Eliot's “gasworks” calling forth the whole …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffStephen Ratcliffe: 12.5
horizontal line of a pink cloud above still dark plane of trees in the lower left corner, sound of wind moving tobacco plant leaves, wingspan of a jet passing overhead woman in green sweater recalling arriving with 105 degree fever …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffStephen Ratcliffe: 12.4
sparrow landing on tobacco plant branch in upper right foreground, sound of drop falling into watering can next to green glass back door, waves breaking in channel woman leaving message on phone machine noting her mother left her glasses at …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffStephen Ratcliffe: 12.3
dried hemlock stalk slanting across still dark ridge, green passion vine-covered fence below it, cloudless blue-white sky overhead man on the radio calling Jayne Mansfield “the swansong of pre-nude sexuality in films,” noting “her immensely voluptuous body” woman on the …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffKevin Killian: CANDY LAND IX
Timmy and Tommy break a bar of taffy in the gutter Their tan lines are showing Their hard taffy candy breaks in two pieces that is its attraction. Even if you had no friend to share it with you would …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffKevin Killian: CANDY LAND VIII
Three friends have I, Mr. Potato Head with bumps on it, and pink glasses, and Lady Bracknell, a broken record who always says the same thing twice, and then there's my image in the mirror. This image, the most …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffDouglas Messerli: Four Acts
The blind now forces paper to put upon itself. What was read is blackened by the name of blood. I, says the cat, will sit upon the chest of my conquered curl. I, says the gun, will kill anyone who …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffDouglas Messerli: Stars Offer the Trees Their Confident Shade
–David Kinloch Back may reject the mince of ejaculated threats, but the arrested eye exacts a snide pinch among those athletes who seek any game. Elegy suits homecomings as if warding off the sailor's neck, voices besieging the staircase's …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffCatherine Daly: Smoke
Cigarette smoke spills from her red mouth, demonstrating chaos. Voices, movements, shift the smoke, take us where story and image deteriorate.
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffCatherine Daly: Shallow
A narcissist immersed in her own voluptuous wickedness, she is a state of mind, the image of an irreal city more than a place, a blurred figure going in and out. Sensuous camerawork, romantic atmosphere, gowns, balls, staircases, polished, epigrammatic …
Posted in 24.1: CANDYLANDS Comments OffCatherine Daly: Stiletto
Did she or didn't she? Does she, or doesn't she? Her legs are two wild claims, disruptive assertions raised to the level of staccato shouts, become vehement lowering. She leads with her feet. Only eyes walk up the seams of …
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