Thursday, August 11, 2011
Love is a distant star past which I sailed once on my lonely voyage
the warmth and caring
dried up as quickly as they gushed forth leaving me
to work and wander through days and years
once inhabited but now abandoned sleep alone
only a dull ache
where once was someone special
remaining only in my imagination two universes spinning together the energy of love is gone
life is lonely
love is a distant star
past which I sailed once on my path into darkness
Bruce Eisner 1989 Santa Cruz California
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Always she's falling over inside
never reaching the end, a hammer
smashing thin translucent glass
thin as the whisper, a fragile
promise she walks alone with, knowing
only outside, never feeling in;
never seeing through the surface
of half-hearted smiles and loose
passing nods, silent voices lost,
her eye-acknowledged madness
pleading in a basket by the door
she walks past without mouthing
into the wash of black granite night,
heavy, with only stars for comfort
she rolls back the collar of time
sinks below in whorling form
a soft blown drizzle in cool mist,
springtime sun, the despair running
through her head, some tune
of a funeral song she remembered
singing on that night before he left:
dark gifts, bleak memories, spirit
sleeping, a self-watching eye alloyed
above, holding at bay, truth, angels
forged white hot in the inchoate moment,
nascent, underfed, positioning logical
before us in the dust, our forgotten souls,
soldier-gods in the endless realm
of endless rain, in a time far off;
the mythic sun that once, on the shortest
day, briefly connected to a brow
of kings, the falling star, your cynosure,
Monday, February 14, 2011
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Facebook friends, colleagues, poetry pals, hip cool touché auto-mate race; oh fuk, forgive us, lost in a strange time, cyberspace's relentlessly attentive-to-choice playas, making up with language, stuff in prose; in this week's Guardian poem up for critical 'debate' in Forum UK, communicating the state-of-mind of its chooser, Carol Rumens, at the instant of her decision, perhaps; as much as it dazzles or enlightens us the reader with any sentient memories, or historical fact packed into light Hanoverian verse the witty George III satirists had on a brilliant run, until a Gay Swift Pope & Dr. Johnson, first speaking stuff in prose, song and satirical poetry, unheard of before, in the presence of princes and kings? The louts lowering the tone, outraging the public decency of their time, at once both very different and opposite from ours - in a puritan sense - yet exactly the effing same. Innuendo and intelligence, words well crafted, thought out, expressing conceits both at once ingeniously simple as they are compelling, to an audience who hear the same music of what happens, as we who write the words that make a whole world sing, who sing of love and everything, this wonderful, horrific, happy, joyously obnoxious song of self and same three dimensional humanity on a two dimensional page, some spiritual source, authorial impulse, imaginative force, and one's English imprimatur, psychic bones, something within us 'born slanted', the only one authentic bardic primer suggests, states, with an exact degree of reality, there, in the very fucking words of it: Answer to the ancient conundrum:
Where is the root of poetry in a person; in the body or in the soul?
Does anybody know?
You can start finding out by reading the untitled, anonymous Amergin text positing answers to the question at the link above, translated by Eryn Laurie; and after a few years of imbibing in the English language, our deepest draught from a 7C bardic mind, the poem unlocks itself before our very eyes, dissolves our mind into some ancient druidic blueprint, vibe, yet also, effectively, a brand new re-connection to the interior pattern where all is explainable within certain parameters of eloquence and communication, our realm of poetic equipoise perfectly balancing joy, sorrow, love, hate and a whole text of ancient bardic nous, translated and known now, for the first time since Shakespeare, since only 1979; culturally alive as an on the road vernacular eloquence, that Praed, this weeks poet, voted into being; a poster there, Melton Mowbray, suggests.
Is there any reference to that er, (fact?) in England, on the IoW, David, M'lud?
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Mersey Goat Boys, stunned by witnessing their own innards, still walking, still blinking as the last of the sun dips over the sea...
"How much shouting can we do?" one of them yells, but the words are lost.
A collective sigh. A rising swell.
The seablasts, the sundrains... Augie takes a turn at the mast, making a scene with his hands, trying to send a message out to the philosophers and caps on the shore, their little beads stuck to telescopes, their breath buckling against the salt and spray...
"Semaphore the life out of them," said Antony, himself already snuggling against a backdrip of insect chatter...
"Mandibles," corrects Augie...
"a Jazz musician without a trumpet..." comes the mumbled reply.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
...she offered, but got rejected and had to fold her limbs away.
"Even as a birthday present... it's a poor show; I've seen buckles bigger than that kids head," said Geoff, his arm waving Masonic Distress Signals that he couldn't remember receiving.
Still, Janice waited for her moment; cursed Geoff under her breath - Anaal Nathrakked him, multi-tracked her sideways glances into a wave of mutilation.
Geoff stood still; taking the blows and preparing to burst the candle flames.
Janice smiled, found herself an unexpected Janus.
"Curses, weathered, boiled..."
Janice swifted and turned; like a gull dive, like a spoiled breakfast.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
What you thought you knew, but did not...
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The Ferroggiaro - du Bois GalleryThe Ferroggiaro - du Bois Gallery
World renowned photographer (photo artist), author and poet, Cherilyn Ferroggiaro creates some of the most extraordinary B&W and Color photography in the world. Her keen eye and creative mind has a profound ability to awe and dazzle admirers of her images. Her devoted and loyal global fans anxiously await her new image releases and others publish her work in major print media.
For the first time ever, Cherilyn Ferroggiaro is releasing her images for product distribution and has chosen Zazzle to make this release. Each of Cher's images is art. Some of her images appear to be paintings and you feel as if you can reach into the image and become part of it.
Recently married, Cherilyn has been inspired by the love she has for her husband and her emotions are expressed in her latest images and writing.
Enjoy her latest releases and past work as well, you will not be disappointed. It is poetry in pictures!
ferroggiarodubois's Gallery at Zazzle
Samples of portraits for appointments - photojournalism also available :
Sunday, September 28, 2008
posted: September 26, 2008
Submission Deadline: November 29, 2008
29 GIFTS: How to cultivate a daily giving practice that will ignite your energy for life
by Cami Walker and the 29Gifts.org Community
29 Gifts is the story of how 29Gifts.org founder, Cami Walker, healed from a major illness by taking an unusual prescription from a South African medicine woman. The remedy? Give 29 gifts to others in 29 days. Midway through Cami's 29 days of giving, after seeing many miraculous changes in her life, she launched a website encouraging others to take the 29 Gifts Challenge and share their stories about how it impacted their lives. Six months and 1,765 committed givers later, Cami was contacted by a major publisher and decided to say YES to their request and write a book. The book is scheduled for release Fall 2009.
In addition to Cami's inspiring personal story, 29 Gifts will also include a collection of 29 personal essays from others about the Healing Power of Giving.
Authors whose stories are chosen for publication in the 29 Gifts book will receive a one-time payment of $200.
Selected contributors also get a brief bio at the end of their story and a link to their 29Gifts.org profile page. On your 29Gifts.org profile page, readers can learn more about you, leave comments for you about your story, and link to your website.
How to Submit:
1. SIGN UP for the 29 Gifts Challenge at http://www.29Gifts.org
2. Give away 29 gifts in 29 days. Your gifts can be ANYTHING given to ANYONE -- smiles, kind thoughts, old sweaters, cans of soup, spare change...
3. Write and submit a story that is 2,500 words or less about how it impacted your life to focus on giving for 29 days
4. Email your story in the BODY of an email to story@29Gifts.org (NO ATTACHMENTS, please)
*Put STORY in the SUBJECT LINE of your email
*Include your FULL CONTACT DETAILS: first and last name (as you want it published in your byline), phone number, mailing address, email address and the link to your 29Gifts.org profile at the TOP of your email and the story below that.
Submission deadline: November 29, 2008
NOTE: You MUST be a member of the 29Gifts.org site (i.e. have a profile on the site) to be considered for the book.
If you haven't signed up at http://www.29Gifts.org yet, DO IT NOW and start your giving because story submissions for the book are due 11/29/08!
A FEW GUIDELINES TO GIVE YOU THE BEST CHANCE OF BEING SELECTED FOR THE 29 GIFTS BOOK:
1. Write in present, active tense.
2. Use a lot of sensory detail that helps stimulate all five senses.
3. Use conversational tone, as if you are sitting down and telling the story in person to your best friend.
4. Tell the story of the gift(s) you gave, but also communicate how it impacted you. How did you feel about yourself after offering the gift(s)? Did the gift(s) change your perception about something? Did you receive something unexpected in return? Was there an evident impact on the recipient of the gift(s)?
Please direct any submission-related questions to: story@29Gifts.org
*Absolutely NO phone calls please.
Please share this with anyone who may be interested!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Monday, November 19, 2007
No reason to keep re-animating this excepting I like the (b)idea of keeping it just hovering over the edge of life; like there's a quiver of EEG still draining out the system which cannot yet be detected because the EEG machines aren't sensitive enough.
Like a type of blog consciousness whicb looks smooth and lifeless to the eye but which, at the micro-level is just a little rough and spiky...
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Monday, October 08, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Monday, September 03, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
can create heat
the cool ocean air surrounding
two people pressing against each other
in the dark
groping for inner
warm ambiance of skin
two people pressing against each other
what is this spirit that grows stronger
two people pressing
Santa Cruz, CA
Bruce Eisner's Vision Thing
Monday, June 25, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Whores have the ability to share their most private and sensitive body parts with total strangers.
Whores have good senses of humor.
Whores challenge sexual mores.
Whores are playful.
Whores are tough.
Whores have careers based on giving pleasure.
Whores are creative.
Whores are adventurous and dare to live dangerously.
Whores teach people how to be better lovers.
Whores are multi-cultured and multi-gendered.
Whores give excellent advice and help people with their personal problems.
Whores have fun.
Whores wear exciting clothes.
Whores have patience and tolerance for people that other people could never manage to put up with.
Whores make lonely people less lonely.
Whores are independent.
Whores teach people how to have safer sex.
Whores are a tradition.
Whores are hot and hip.
Whores are free spirits.
Whores relieve millions of people of unwanted stress and tension.
Whores endure in the face of fierce prejudice.
Whores make good money.
Whores always have a job.
Whores are sexy and erotic.
Whores have special talents other people just don't have. Not everyone has what it takes to be a whore.
Whores are interesting people with lots of exciting life stories.
Whores get laid a lot.
Whores help people explore their sexual desires.
Whores explore their own sexual desires.
Whores are not afraid of sex.
Whores are entertaining.
Whores have the guts to wear very big wigs.
Whores are not ashamed to be naked.
Whores help the handicapped.
Whores make their own hours.
Whores are rebelling against the absurd, patriarchal, sex-negative laws against their profession and are fighting for the legal right to receive financial compensation for their valuable work.
The Lost River
And was immediately disappointed.
'It's just like all the rest,' he said
Colouring his maps.
Sam finds Pox and Pox finds Sam
Sam went to Africa
To search for new diseases.
Caught a little pox
From a frog in the jungle,
Drew the rash
With coloured pencils
And plugged himself
With ancient herbs.
His mind was wandering,
'If the disease finds us
As much as we find it?'
Sam spent the rest of the year
Looking for a notebook
That was smaller
And more neatly coloured
Than his own.
here she opens her heart a little, making a move towards the blessed regime of poesie with an almost Gericaultian assault on the senses. later, you can read the tears as they run down the page.
Underestimating the locals
'Underestimate the locals.
'You never know
When a pygmy might strike.
And nippy little fellahs.'
One time, Sam got caught
In what he thought was a net.
Turned out to be a hole
With no way out.
'If they eat me,
I'll live forever,' he said,
And starting to hallucinate.
They let him out
And sent him on
With a tattoo of an arse
On the back of his head
Which they found funny.
Sam used Carriers
To get his message across
Then some silly bugger
Ate one for supper
Using a fork
In the same way as the locals.
'Goddamit!' said Sam
From his Mexican prison.
'Is no one out there
Afraid of his stomach?'
One pigeon came back
With a message of love
And many best wishes
From all of England.
Sam, it said,
We wish a speedy return.