Kismet Arts Tangent
Art Collective
Category: poetry
-
Ethos Unwinged Method Attention The Question Meditation Dismantling A Capacity Erosion Something Other Awakening Vigil Fragments The Archive Ethos I view these experiments in self-undoing,Not only as self-unbinding practices,But also as practices that bring to the foreAll the fraught ways I am boundBy my time, ethos, and ethics. I try to practice noticing and surrendering—To…
-
Klanghaus had an event called Fleahaus. It was an opportunity for my first pop-up shop. My collaborator Andrew Rose and I took over a table and put up signs and I laid out a tapestry and then these placemats. Andrew sold his ceramics. The fortune mobile made its debut and was a very popular item.…
-
So I have a zine club. And I like to throw the occasional reading party at my favorite bookstore, EM Wolfman. I livestreamed the event on Facebook. I brought my overhead projector and some doilies and gels. Jaron Smith, Romy Marlboro and Andrew Gabriel Rose read poems and Cassidy Barnes played a couple of songs.…
-
I’m getting back into poetry. I am gearing up mentally for an upcoming show for my residency at SAFEhouse for the Arts. I’m nervous because it’s my first solo stage work. I have the skeleton of the show down, but I have a narrative that I’m planning on writing and it might be good or…
-
As I lay awake, I realized without moving that I loved what I could have and what I couldn’t have. Insatiable. It was a tiny revelation. I looked at my life and saw I had everything I needed and all that was left was for me to fall asleep to that tune. Waterfalls are my…
-
don’t worry too much about how you look, worry about how you feel. make art, all the time. If you’re not working on something be planning for the next thing. yes, we can do that, for sure Drink enough water. try to have a decent relationship with at least one family member. Always be reading…
-
Edge of Time (2003) I went to the edge of time one day. It’s a feeling I can’t describe or say. Never-stopping; a rapid motion constant lapping, like an ocean. As I sat, pondered this new feat Something was coming from down the street. A person I’ve never seen before. A strange shadowy figure, crazed…
-
Eyes, lakes of my simple passion to be reborn Other than as the actor who gestures with his hand As with a pen, and evokes the foul soot of the lamps. Here’s a window In the walls, of the cloth I’ve torn with legs and arms, limpid treacherous swimmer with endless leaps, disowning the sickness Hamlet!…
Kismet Arts Tangent 