A short visual poem about a guy who figures out he needs to get moving.
Possible futures and multiple observers.
The order depends on how you look at it.
The next installment in projecting words where they usually don’t appear.
Up and down and up that same hill.
More poems need to be written and others need revised, but I’m feeling pretty fantastic about seeing my writing evolve.
cuz he walked around everywhere with a thumz up
you try not looking despite your curiosity
what good / is the awe / of stars / if we see / only that / we are / worlds apart?
the more you wait / the more you drown in time // so just smile
Ouch / oo / eh / Oww
This writing is less the craft heavy and prosody poised work that keeps process hidden behind closed doors of the poet’s writing studio and their intellectual hesitance, and more the freestyle, live over home-made beats push for moments of flow.
It was high time / I got out of there
For this group of Overhead Projector Poem-ing poems I decided I would take my fancy projector to the Wick Poetry Center.
Then it drops down a vertical line? Why, Dan? Why?
Either it is a face or it is a cloud. Or maybe it’s a little bit of both.
To view a single letter as a thing unto itself.
Our time speaks, as every time does, its very own language. It speaks foremost, even when writing and writing a great deal. The contemporary person wants to understand passion and have it understood, and many people—
words are not numbers
naked boy outside Jerusalem