Words from the Sub-Ethereal Vivarium

Dear Student

2012-01-30T08:37:00.000-08:00

Congratulations!

You have been
INVITED
to my cubicle
to MEASURE
the cranial
dimensions
of one of my
many SKULLS.

PS. BYOC

3

2012-01-29T00:41:00.000-08:00

Dog your Christ
shoulder to the window.

Crash through the stained-glass
architecture of the river.

Poke your animal profile
out from the sudden darkness

of your body.

Whittle a revolutionary
doll apendage and axe

your way through the dream
catcher of intestinal cable.

Imagine your ribcage
a hot oven mitt, now

grab ahold of something risen.

Focus on the space
just above your forehead

and forget about that
first batch of cookies.

Your milk-mustashe
will lead you to the mummy-oder.

This is where the unravelling occurs.

Remote Control

2012-01-25T12:04:00.000-08:00

Coming out
the boob-tube,

unnecessary actions.

Those hands will
yank the teeth

from the lapdog.

Some hard-ass
will entice a snapping

turtle to bite the end
of a pair of channel-locks,

then with a quick
twiste and jerk,

decapitation!

One

2012-01-23T21:41:00.000-08:00

The celestial position
of organs has emerged.

I wait like snowdrifts
for those star-puckered lips

to belt my face into Orion.

I let the wind feel me
out like a needle on a record.

A calligraphic text is detectable
in the bone-white

resurrection of matter.

I move in pelagic cyclones
from days to decades.

I leap through conifers
with the urge of a primate;

blood-moon eyes rattle

like mummies then disappear
into the mountains with the quickness

of night.
The valley unfolds.

I am alone in this village.

Camelus Analysis 001

2012-01-17T20:52:00.000-08:00

I guess I
never noticed

the way
a camel's foot

looks when it
makes contact

with the earth.

A lot
of squishy

skin jiggles
around the hoof.

The Hominins

2012-01-17T19:59:00.000-08:00

*
Come here
antelope;

I will hold
your antlers

in a sexy pose
with other men

all scrolled out
in chronology.

Real tough guys.

*
It is evident
by the shapes

of our heads
that we were

attracted to
the alien women.

Pillars

2012-01-16T21:35:00.000-08:00

Some people
think that I,

a man of
the humanities,

can't possibly
know anything

about science.

I have taken
hundreds of

pictures of caterpillars.

I kick it
with arthropods

eight hours a day
seven days a week!

Head Theory

2012-01-16T21:23:00.000-08:00

O, people

with oval-shaped

heads,

not much different

than I!

Perhaps, I

have an oval-

shaped head as well

I just can't tell.

*Never been that good at being like, that's what kind of head I have.

Aliens

2012-01-16T21:16:00.000-08:00

I am

just overwhelmed

with the many
different types

of aliens.

Dr. Anthropology

2012-01-09T07:49:00.000-08:00

O, take that
Australopithecus

skull and hold it up
to your face!

Now in a high-pitched
voice say:

"Hi kids, welcome
to anthropology!"

Pterodactyl (The new school bird)

2012-01-06T22:12:00.000-08:00

I am winged-out
with the leather
baby, goin,'

"zubee, zubee"
with claws
stretched-out

in each direction.

I will swoop
that ass!

I ain't no
Archaeopteryx.

Tyrannosaurus

2012-01-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

You think a T-rex
is going to stick
around for chit-chat?

Well you got another

chance to think about it.

That doesn't
happen often.

Stegosaurus (Pick-up line)

2012-01-06T21:17:00.000-08:00

I am one
who appreciates
Stegosauruses.

In fact, I am
the pine trees
in the distance.

Not impressed?
Well then,

dig the bone-like
protrusions
rippin' straight out

my lower neck.

Photo 3

2011-12-23T00:02:00.000-08:00

What horribly
manipulative
Spatiality.

And how
zoo cryptological
can I be

in the crumbling
of stained-glass
windows?

I leap into
the backseat
of a Golden Hawk

Eyes like yolks;
head low and
awkward with nipples.

Photo 2

2011-12-22T23:15:00.000-08:00

Gigantic gorilla w/ no head
hardened in wooden cask,
your arms have been canceled.

There is a flag on the play.
Your thick body left
hominid foot prints.

"It's an oddly large creature,"
said some Indian scholar.
"And, perhaps it is the culprit

of the millions of mysterious
animal mutilations."

Photo 1

2011-12-20T21:43:00.000-08:00

Rattle out the picture
with that Picasso
look on your face.

Spiral into the arms
of some warm monkey.
Go ahead and bat your eyes

again you gorgeous
frightening animal.
Just lash it up.

Nickels and Dimes (By Michael Tatay)

2011-12-18T00:19:00.000-08:00

Water burns up
in a glistening

powder of ash.

Americans use super
models as explosions,

thinking someday
they'll

get a life.

You dream blind people
in every direction.

Let There Be Light

2011-12-17T14:16:00.000-08:00

The only pistachios
left are a damn puzzle.

And so I wait
like a goldfish

for the great ripples,
for the great nut

cracker to part the dark
clouds of silence,

for the big entrance
of the crab claw hammer,

for the honey badger to bust
out the cobra snake leather,

and get determined
like some young Indiana Jones,

for some angry worm to shout,
"I've had enough of this darkness!"

The curtains would open and
some sweet-bearded magician

would get all knee slappy
with a banjo.

This would cause the great
nut catalyst and I would scream,

"hallelujah!"

Gift

2011-12-16T17:24:00.000-08:00

There is a lonely
labradoodleless tennis ball
in the yard.

The river is high--
a fat leather whip
to the inner thigh

of the valley.

"A wild dog is eroding the banks."

The only
movement is bone white.

"Please keep dogs out of my yard."

An effort to grab
ahold of something.

The steam from the noses
of cars as the drivers
prepare their gift returns.

And as I drive away
from a day's work,
I notice that tennis balls appear

larger than they are.

Roll on

2011-12-12T19:57:00.000-08:00

I got a box
full of urethane.

Independents
in a milk crate.

My swiss
precision is rusted.

I'm in love
with a t-shirt

I never wear.
I swear, one day

I'm gonna
throw it all away,

but right now,

right now
it's in my bones.

Shutters

2011-12-10T06:13:00.000-08:00

I guess,
I feel
most like myself

in the early
morning.

I wake up
probing
for my camera

to take pictures
of shadows on the wall:

the dream-
catcher
of an oak,

an ash,
the thorn-

like projections
of the ass-
end of a sparrow,

Venetian
shutters

turned horizontal
by the oblique
rays of a star,

my bones
locked steady for the capture.

[Decon]structural Tissue

2011-12-06T22:23:00.000-08:00

Yank!

that twitch
out of
your
eye socket.

Teeth!

Just slide
right out
of the jaw bone.

Rip!

cuticles
back nervous
for the pocket-hole.

Skin!

scroll-out
the cheese
grater of right angles.

Grind!

fingers
deep into the
unarmed shoulder cavity.

Bones!

get cryptic
with the
epithelial sock-puppet.

Interregnum

2011-12-06T21:33:00.000-08:00

False faces

in terrarium.

antlers and
horns.

Burrow,
over shoulder

eyes

resemble tiny
human footprints.

Claw structure.

Habitat:

in the hollow
of bones.

Pelvic gurgle,

pastoral stream.

Back seat
dream-mummy

probing
for the stick

shift.

The Gnosis of Unicorn Objects

2011-11-29T11:07:00.000-08:00

Seriously,
an unsharpened
purple pencil
topped with
a purple unicorn
eraser?

You think
that would
cheer up Emily
Dickinson?

That perhaps,
the purple
unicorn eraser would
transform into
a real purple
unicorn and yank

her body
from the coffin,
or carry her out
of the cold study

of antebellum
America and into
the golden age
of stonewashed
blue jeans,
and totally rad bangs

all eighteen-
hundred and
something of her
poems bursting
from a trapper keeper?

Do you really
Think she would
dig your mix tape of
Poison and Mötley Crüe?

Would she
show-up
to your
roller-skating
party, hair permed
and lip gloss glittering

in the ambience
of a galactic arcade?

December Coming

2011-11-27T16:46:00.000-08:00

No one sits
at that lone piano,

nor on the old
wooden rocking chair.

Their glory days
are enclosed in glass

where grains of sand
flee like fingers

from the last note
of a small piece by Bach,

like the dust of
forgotten generations,

when Winter's winds drone.

Neurons

2011-11-23T23:37:00.000-08:00

Lone
sycamore tree.

Gnarly-white
bone.

Spiral from my
solar plexus

and shock all
ceiling-texture

animals.

Optic Nervousness

2011-11-21T20:44:00.000-08:00

You should have seen the squirrels
when I got home from school today.
They were all lined up on the front porch
With their heads buried in the pumpkins,

popping up occasionally to survey
the landscape with a jerk from right
to left. The gourds had been scalped
the pumpkins, wide open like bowls

of cereal on a Saturday mourning,
the marshmallows, the TV singing
“no one should terrorize this neighborhood.”
The squirrels can’t hear a damn thing. They’re landing

planes with their frantic tails. I am terrified.
They mock me in the minivan. They’re one-
Eye-ballin’ me as I struggle to get the key in
the lock. Even the oaks begin to shake hysterically.

My phone makes that chime before it powers-down.
I put the wrong key in the lock, “SNAP!”
I attempt to escape in the minivan, but the key
to the ignition has been devoured by the lock

on my apartment door. Devoured like all of those
Pumpkinseeds! One by one teeth gnashing, fang-
vaults jutting, heads rattling like doorknobs! I think
they might have batteries lodged in their abdomens.

I think the battery is dead in the egg-van. I begin
to rake at the moon. I begin to shake with these cold
dead wires pouring from below the steering column.
The windows are tinted, but I can still see those pearly

Whites! The red coats are coming! Don’t fire, it only makes
them angry—but—wait! All I can do is wait! Wait! I will have to
wait for the cold night to creep over my shoulder,
until the owls come out and the oaks stop barking,

but, ah, that—

Silence,

And all those

owls.

All those eyes.

Trees

2011-11-16T21:40:00.000-08:00

Skulls
When axes lick the ice,
And the splinters!
Splintering from the impact like tigers.

The water
Bubbles like orandas, like
Clay waiting for its faces
To be molded over rooftops.

A catcher’s mitt and elbows,
Sharp like fingernails,
In the bark of an aspen.
I wake up
To the grinding of bones.

Salty and fog-covered
Highway, a din from
The heath.
Two hollowed eyes
Communicate like whales.

Arthropods

2011-11-15T20:07:00.000-08:00

There is a spider—
deep in the recess
of a bolt.

(The ants become
cryptic with eggs)

Beneath the globe—
of a streetlight
reflects a rather

familiar skeleton
on the tractor.

At dinner
my arms are still—
swollen from the bee sting.

(I can’t bury the fork)

Ceremony

2011-11-11T14:47:00.000-08:00

I just got backhanded
Straight out the
altocumulus.
My nimbus is
Stratified,
My concentration
Creeps like poison ivy.

Into the sub-ethereal
Pines I find myself
Lined with hides.
Branches spiral
Into the damp
Cauldron of needles.

Segmented and knotty
With claw-like
Extensions,
I carve my path
To the river—

(((Ceremonial organs)))

Chthonic winds drone!

The Petting Zoo Expression

2011-11-07T22:45:00.000-08:00

The sun extracts my spinal
fluid with the precision
of an all-in-one
camping spork.

Soon, I will shed
my turtle-box
and anthropomorphize
my ((sit dog)) and ((shake)).

No longer hide under sheets
or anticipate a chocolate
malt. (The neighborhood
eye-bangs giant telescopes).

I will begin to reinstate
my boyish bad temper
with the gaze of a
petting zookeeper.

I will admit
that I can no longer
keep my hands off
of your bicycle.

My only big-kid toy
was a hand-me-down
rusted-old-Schwinn.

I blew the tires off on the first date.

Coyotes

2011-07-20T21:16:00.000-07:00

I never really go anywhere
on the tractor—

I am only passing through.

I often pass along
the banks of the Saint Joe
and look out onto the river—

Birds spiral into the clouds
where the water cuts the sky.

I pass by the trail
where the deer cross—

(I hear that coyotes travel
These paths as well)

Perhaps I’ve never known them
in the way that the people
here have never really known me.

They never really see me
like the coyote passing through.

Branches

2010-06-30T23:10:00.000-07:00

*
You know that book by your bed?
The one you picked up again recently?
I have that book too.
I love it, but this time
It’s just not the same.
I get about 15 to 20 pages in
and lay it back down.

*
Morning comes
like the whirlwind of youth
and branches begin to fall
like the pages of that book
and I carry those pages away
down the road
where the deer cross
and I lay them back down.

*
And so we wade in the pages
waiting among the branches
for a new day
…a new book.
One that we can
pick up again
and hold up to the sun
and never lay it down.

Dog

2010-06-19T20:11:00.001-07:00

Everything makes
sense when I am
petting God’s dog.

The solar eyes of
the beast are illuminating
my electric landscape.

All intricacies are
cosmically ordered,

so the swap land
is froggy with
mosses and ferns.

The animals are
pushing the fence
of progress; pushing

until the wires snap
and the stagnant water
flows into the river.

Dog. Dog, Dog;
I love this adventure.

Dog,

Let’s go fishing.

Dog,

Let’s climb a mountain.

Dog,

The valley.

Dog,

The village.

Dog,

Let’s build a castle on the outskirts, Dog.

Dog,

you’re my dog forever Dog.

I love you.

The Tapping

2010-06-13T21:33:00.001-07:00

It is he who walks beyond the emotional cycle

with binary-glyphics and biorhythmic stasis.

For public interest, becomes a graph of physical

health and average habits. When on the heath

with bay steeds, spent critical days tapping hooves.

But as the horses die from lack of the right beating

the tapping becomes the sound of rows of roofing

peeling back to reveal TVs slowly tugging the tennis ball

eyes, just slow enough and with the right amount of

pressure on the optic nerve; the iconic pain-isolating

threshold that awkwardly soothes the strangling of brain

stems and leaves two lips half puckered for the electron beam.

Michigan City, IN

2010-05-23T20:30:00.001-07:00

"La destrucción de la orden vieja" y el nacimiento de una estética del arte

2010-04-19T22:04:00.000-07:00

José Clemente Orozco, 1926. Escuela Nacional Preparatorio, México D.F.

El simbolismo en las obras de Orozco es muy intrigante. El hombre en este obra está alcanzando en el futuro y está mirando en el pasado. Esto parece definir la estética del muralismo mexicano y es muy similar a Modernismo norteamericano. La atención se centra en el derrumbe del pasado mientras que la está buscando es un busca ciego de respuestas.

No Ordinary Moments

2010-04-17T17:54:00.000-07:00

When people cry in corners

and worms populate my drive to school,

the odor is right;

the solution is highly plausible,

and I begin to rub it all over

the people I meet.

During lunch the chef talked about religion

and the man that sat across

from me lost his wife a week ago.

He looked like a skyscraper

with shrimp tails waving

in the heat of the façade.

I felt a book under my bed begin

to rise from the onion volcano.

There were answers in the vapor

and remedial laughter.

We just stared at each other

through the fire.

Coyotes Becoming...

2010-04-16T21:30:00.000-07:00

I found this coyote skeleton on a nature hike the other day. The clouds seem to sort of mirror the image of the coyote skeleton as if suggesting an afterlife. It struck me with an invocation of the intriguing and existential binary of life/death, body/spirit, Earth/heaven ...&c.

Time

2010-03-12T23:56:00.000-08:00

Valerian

2009-12-15T18:29:00.000-08:00

I shouldn’t take

These herbs, because

I will handle the tablets

of mummies.

Perhaps, nightmares of

crumbling clay faces

will actual my quickening.

With broken

Ears and teeth

I am welcomed

In the unraveling of servants.

And for my

foolish prying of hinges

I unearth myself in attics.

The Word "is"

2009-12-08T19:19:00.000-08:00

I will write

That tremendously

Intriguing phrase

On a note card

And tack it

To my wall

And I will

Look at it

Every day

Until it ceases

To have

Any meaning

At all.

When Flowers Turn to Clouds

2009-12-05T20:51:00.000-08:00

Time passes

And you don’t know

What I do

In the morning

In the heavy day

In the light of solar rays

What I live for

Where I stand on the

So called important issues

What I believe in

And whom I love

How far I’ve travelled

And my abandonment

And embracement

Of things and people

And my reasons why

And then I hear your voice

And I remember that

Time passes by.

I’ll See You Soon

2009-12-03T17:48:00.000-08:00

There are trees moving

In the twilight

outside my window.

They are whispering.

I am listening

to an old friend.

Diamonds reflect the many faces.

There are many places underground

and in the thicket.

I was known by the name of Davian.

Light shimmers through

The chlora-fingers

And the clouds smile back at me.

When the darkness came,

we lit a fire

and camped under the evergreens

The old bass in the lake

sleep with pagan

faces watching.

I speak with animals

in the waking

of a tide washing.

Wings with wolf-body

Turn paws to clouds

And I feel unusual

…and interesting.

2009-11-26T10:38:00.001-08:00

David Dodd Lee’s forthcoming book of poems, The Nervous Filaments (2010, Four Way Books), is now available for pre-order at Amazon.com. Lee teaches at Indiana University South Bend.

Other books of poetry by Lee: Downsides of Fish Culture (1997), Arrow Pointing North (2002), Abrupt Rural (2004).

Kelcey Parker

2009-11-14T15:25:00.000-08:00

Kelcey Parker, assistant professor of English at IU South Bend, has been recognized as Artist of the Month for November 2009 at Image Journal.

Frances Hwang at IU South Bend

2009-11-08T22:51:00.000-08:00

Frances Hwang, author of Transparency will be reading at IU South bend. Her story collection, Transparency (Back Bay Books/Little, Brown & Company, 2007), received the American Academy of Arts and Letters’ Sue Kaufman Prize for First Fiction and a PEN/Beyond Margins Award. Hwang teaches at Saint Mary’s College in Notre Dame, Indiana.

Location: IU South Bend on the 3^rd floor “Bridge” of Wiekamp Hall.

When: Monday, Nov. 23, at 7:30 p.m.

*This event is free and open to the public. There will be light refreshments and a book-signing.

“All the grown-ups burst out laughing, and then my aunt turned to look at me. ‘So you think I’m not as pretty?’ she said. My fingers trailed along the sofa as I moved away from her. ‘You think your mom is prettier than me, hey?’ All at once, she lunged, squeezing me tight. When she suctioned my face with kisses, I could feel the hot steam of her emotion. She was a tyrant in that way, her passions swirled messily together, making me afraid. To love and to hate was the same, and even the dog was scared of her.”

–From Transparency “Giving a Clock”

When I'm Alone

2009-11-07T21:53:00.000-08:00

I am

Surrounded

By sharp objects

I am alone

I struggle

For comfort

Should I play

A game

Or read

Maybe lie down

Or should I dig

Through the old

To find gold

I want

Invisible hammers

To strike strings

And save me

From this silence

I want to live

In a microcosmic

Village

With polar bear

And Penguins

And baby tiger cubs

And wolf pups

I want all

Of the animals

If I cannot

Have them

I will

Create them

In my mind

And I will

Dream of a garden

And surround

Myself

With memories

Materia

2009-10-28T18:26:00.000-07:00

Magnetite

2009-10-27T19:37:00.000-07:00

Sleeping Bear

2009-08-13T19:19:00.000-07:00

When the storm rolls in,

I move quickly

Over jagged rocks and sand.

Across the great wild back

Of the sleeping bear.

I follow tracks and shapes in clouds.

I walk under a canopy-sky

Of rain and insects.

In the ghost tree valley;

Shadows climb in the distance.

There are two ways to travel:

In the darkness,

And in the light.

And I chase patches of sky

On a stormy sleeping bear night.

Breaking Glass

2009-08-04T21:10:00.000-07:00

Starin’ at the Moon like a Common Loon

2009-01-02T23:05:00.000-08:00

The giant panda shines on the surface of the lake

The pufferfish smears red paint on the canvas of the sky

The porcupine understands why some stars die

And why some stars live forever

The wolf loves the wild turkey kisses of the moonlight

The lionfish lives in a bowl full of nuts

And the clownfish resent statements like the later

“you can’t kid a kidder”

The giant clam is the loudest of them all

Swim

Little baby swim

Swim little

Baby

Brine shrimp

Penguins are decent animals

Perhaps I’m a decent person

Orion, make me feel like a polar bear again

I can breathe better in icy water

And in the mountains

Snow leopards brush against my face

Cutting a path in the brilliant white

I float on a dream pillow

So that I don’t have to swim for my life

It’s a religious boxing match with the champions of science

I prefer to ignore it (the fighting)

It makes the other animals leave

I speak with the body

And attack with the soul

The shadows make me feel silly

I don’t need these jaws

Or these claws to communicate

Animals know how to find inspiration elsewhere

Friday Night Paranormal Phenomena

2008-10-23T14:48:00.000-07:00

Starting this Friday, and occasional Fridays after, I will be writing and/or presenting something in the realm of the paranormal: parapsychology, UFO’s, folklore, ghosts, any unexplained supernatural phenomena.

Many authors of fiction have written stories involving ghosts, UFO’s and other paranormal phenomena. Many musicians have written songs about the paranormal, and there is definitely an array of movies involving paranormal phenomena. Often times, what you see, hear, or read about the paranormal is based on real events reported by bystander and/or people involved. These stories usually develop into folklore and urban legend.

Tonight I am going to talk about the mysterious death of the legendary Mississippi delta blues artist Robert Johnson. Robert Johnson was a blues artist in the 1930s. He died at the age of 27, but the cause of his death is unknown. The legend of Robert Johnson is that he sold his soul to the devil in trade for mastery of the guitar. Johnson talks of this event in his song “Cross Road Blues.”

Some people believe that the devil came back to claim Johnson’s soul after he had master the guitar. In the original recording of “Me and the Devil’s Blues,” Johnson sings the words “you may bury my body, down by the highway side.” In the background of the song, Johnson speaks the words “Baby, I don’t care where you bury my body when I’m dead and gone.” It is believed that Johnson's body may have been buried at the crossroads and that his "evil spirit" can be seen hitching a ride on a Grayhound bus.

Pioneers of Language: The poetry of Aase Berg

2008-10-16T14:33:00.000-07:00

Swedish poet Aase Berg’s poetic style puts the reader in a dream world of animalistic morphology and surrealistic imagery. Strange and foreign words collide with the biological functions of the body, creating interesting sci-fi worlds and fantasy realms. The use of hyphenated word creations and dreamlike images of animals create a chaotic world of fantasy and science fiction.

Strange and foreign words are frequently used in Berg’s poetry. The poem title “In Darkful Lande” suggests that you will be entering an unknown and foreign world. ‘Darkful’ is a strange chimera of verbal syntax, and is not commonly used in the English language. Berg created the word ‘darkful’ to give the reader a sense of wonder and enchantment. The strange and foreign word choices Berg uses causes the reader to feel as though they are discovering a new world.

Another powerful Berg tool is the use of hyphens. Hyphenated words morph two independent images together into one image. Hyphens can be used to create strange and dreamlike images and sceneries. Berg gives a great example of how hyphens can be used to create strangely grotesque relationships between biological and geological functions and features in her poem “Seal Drubbing,” where a miscarriage becomes a river.

In the poems “In the Guinea Pig Cave” and “Deer Quake,” Berg uses animals to create surreal and dreamlike images. The speaker in “Deer Quake” becomes animalistic and anthropomorphic. This technique creates a sort of pagan dreamscape of shamanistic images. The anthropomorphic images have a surreal affect on the overall nature of the poem.

Language is the key to creating the strange science fiction and fantasy realms of Aase Berg’s poetry. Strange and foreign word creations and hyphenations cause the reader to wonder about the world of a poem. The anthropomorphic amalgamation of animals and humans creates a dreamlike world of surrealistic imagery. The reader is expelled into an unknown land where strange language is subject to the imagination and striped of the predisposed notions of common language.

Photo Prompt: 5 Minute Creativity Exercise.

2008-10-08T01:12:00.000-07:00

Here is an interesting photo that I took with my compact digital camera.

What does this photo cause you to think of? How does it make you feel? What event, place, time, etc. does it remind you of? In other words, if it could suddenly come to life and speak, what would it say?

Now take 5 minutes to write a poem, story, etc. with this picture as inspiration. The key to this exercise is to be relatively strict with your time limit. This is not a dissertation prospectus it is creative stimulus. Do not waste time trying to make logical sense of your sentences and/or syntax. Move quickly and let you thoughts flow. If you take your time trying to make sense of the photo, logic and reason will take hold and your thoughts will most likely be less creative and interesting. (For Example: It is dark and cloudy. The sun is beginning to set behind the trees). Just let your thoughts flow.

Here is an example of what I came up within a 5-minute time limit. I wrote from a free verse poetry approach:

Thunder of the mist

Willows-whisper of eve’s hollow eyes

Gray and electric structures

Shake the solar plexus until chakras bleed light

And the cold ubiquitous sky bleeds rocks

I need to build an ark

So that all of my animal friends will be safe from

The son of the morning ice

We will die if our father does not

Invent something new to aid in our survival

Now all you have to do is take it a step further. Take the ideas, thoughts, sentences, words, etc. that you came up with and expand upon them. For example, consider the last two lines of my writing: "We will die if our father does not/Invent something new to aid in our survival." Imagine if this was the first line spoken by a narrator in a story or movie, what would happen next! The possibilities are endless!

About this Blog

2008-10-02T13:24:00.000-07:00

I have wanted to create a blog site that contains my poetry, creative writing, and techniques for stimulating creativity for about a year. I study English at a university in the United States, and spent much of my youth writing lyrics for my musical aspirations. When I no longer had the time for music, I turned to writing. I decided that a blog site would be a good way to share my ideas for writing, as well as some of my poetry and short stories.

Finding new ways to approach a poem, novel, or short story expands my ability to think creatively, generate new ideas, and accomplish my goals. I could care less about writing the "great American novel" (mostly, because I prefer creating shorter works). I am more interested in new ways of expression and pushing the boundaries of the intricate microcosmic structure that makes up the English language. I do not care much for rules when it comes to creative writing. This does not mean that I abandon the formal elements of textual expression. I embody them to the greatest extent.

This blog is not only for people who are interested in creative writing. It is a blog about art and creative expression. This blog is for anyone looking to expand their view of life and everything that it encompasses. I am tapping into energy sources in order to break free of a strict cycle of redundancy and enter an ever-changing world where everything is as new as the first breath of life.

The Sub-Ethereal Vivarium is the interconnectedness of all things. There are no rules here. I am trying to accomplish something.

I'm new to blogging. Are you?

2008-09-29T16:58:00.000-07:00

The article featured in The Observer titled "The World's 50 Most Powerful Blogs" is a good place to start for anyone new to blogging (myself included). The sites mentioned in the article are a good example of just how creative and affective a well-written blog can be. Lets take a look at 3 of my favorites.

The blog that engages my attention the most is called "Icanhascheezburger." This site contains pictures of cats doing funny and outrageous things. The pictures include silly captions that explain the picture in a comic way. There is a function that allows visitors of the site to upload their own pictures with captions. I was so entertained by this site that I decided to upload a funny picture of my own kitten. This site shows how photos can generate an array of interesting and creative language.

Another blog that I like is called "Engadget." This is an informative blog about hi-tech gadgetry. The blog features reviews of the most recent and innovative technologies and devices. Being informed of new technology helps me to stay on top of the digital mountain. I will soon be in the market for a new T.V. and I may have to give this site a visit before I make a purchase.

Finally, as a person new to blogging I feel a need to be guided through the blogosphere. "Copyblogger" is a site that aids in doing this. The site is full of ideas to help the beginner and expert blogger generate ideas for their blogs. Chances are, no one is going to visit your blog if the content is not entertaining, informative, or useful in some way. "Copyblogger" helps you create content that will make your blog successful. I like "Copyblogger," because it gives me direction and insight into the art of blogging.