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by Christopher Luna

Jackson Pollock is a magpie

assaulted by distant memory
of young girl's flight through speeding windshield
a beautiful bird,
jet black feathers
interrupted by patches
of stark white

he perches himself
upon the branch of a cedar
screaming "I AM MACHINE!"
as frantic swirls are shit
down upon the heads of
unsuspecting friends and lovers
                         (no           chance          operations
                         it is he said he once hit a doorknob at 20 paces)

his gesture drips      slow
& intentional
white on red
poorly executed portrait
arc determined
not far from
electric wires

Jackson Pollock is a magpie
drunken     bitter victim of
his own vanity
paying for the sins
of savage cowboy ancestors
who never quite worked out
their unhealthy attachment
to their mothers

pedigree obliterates archetype imprisons energy instigated regenerates instantly reverberates perpetually

The Continuing Adventures of Ecclesiastes Robinson

I'm not named after the Antichrist in The Omen. I'm named after the priest in The Exorcist. I don't know. I think everybody in this society is angry. You're angry, I'm angry, everybody in the street is angry. That On the Road stuff that almost got me killed is just for the boys. They're all big tough guys, but Jesus was a tough guy, too. There are people alive today who are recognized as being prophets. I guess you can hang out with them.
            - with many thanks to Harry Dean Stanton, Karen Finley, and Martin Scorsese.

Robin Blaser was never a 4-H Camp counselor

we west waste time
run out the door
never stop to open
our mouths
before the mirror

ever cursed your own body
in anger at its bodiness
or fingered a developing fissure
at a stranger's funeral?

mere distractions
in the face of insignificance
things to do
while waiting for that phone to ring

     Revolutionary leader dies at 57.
     Display of activist once known as "black power."
     He said that he screamed and could not stop:
"Cancer was given to me by forces of American imperialism."

  1. perimeter of tile patterns spacious mesh wavering chain mail thru which unseen is revealed. someone is watching all this. jolted into solid by loud entrance. cruel classmate.

  2. film image cannot be sifted from brain's pan rather floats until fully absorbed. complete imposition of one person's (or group of persons') subjective reality upon/the viewer (is watching all) retains cinematic movements as memory enmeshed with experience.

  3. actuality, therefore, is permeable, subject to infinite permutations. pinhole (someone) cameras (is) microchips (watching) inserted into (all) newborn (this) babies' asses. always listening. who did you give your social security # to today? opiate doublespeak transmitted & received.

  4. this is neither political nor personal - apocalyptic warnings are like assholes, everyone's got one secret they keep. but watch out as soon as they're able to log on to your mainframe.

  5. these boxes are too small. rocks is not just rocks. look again. that smirk you just shot my way is now on file. all this someone is watching. nothing wrong with that. i like to watch, don't you? big star you are, shining post post post modern ignorance.

  6. readily received flesh fucked & fragmented larger than better than desensitized celluloid eloquently regurgitating questions of community dig in loose, let think, you can't recorded document received as presented aesthetic cleverness cannot erase shadows emblazoned upon cave wall evolved into a piece of plastic shot through with light & projected onto a surface three stories tall.

  7. someone alone someone someone so inclined to find impetus in a potato chip was a bit cracked to begin with sorcerer technician knows secrets which bring motion to still life someone is monitoring all this know what's good for you twenty four carefully composed boxes in order to create moving cluster. the way things might be. someone is watching something tells us that strip takes life as metal teeth penetrate sprocket holes, withdraw quickly, fluoresce in tone the magic mirror serial killers, rapists need no added encouragement.

  8. rape & barbarism received existed. flame replaced by electric bulb. music mathematics meter rhyme. eisenstein counted frames, experimenting with numerical permutations. long before television so there is no chicken or egg conversation to be had only deliberate obfuscation calculated distraction from. complete imposition of point of view presented as theater to a willing. image received as memory, stored as data. an informed populace contains potential for revolution. heroin in southeast asia.

  9. give & receive transmit & receive nitrate silver colortinis which fly through the air transcendent or dehumanizing either way we are mesmerized. once was always will be receptacles willing antennae dulled through and through and through overstimulation too much candy always makes the stomach sick more more more no such thing as too much bring it on.

  10. you cover your eyes, but peek through the fingers. an exchange is made. you are no longer the grain. you may not have a sudden urge to get up and buy popcorn, but you are easily convinced that love is forever & they all lived happily ever after, etc.

  11. all film geeks have bad eyes secretly wish to be rock stars harbor not so secret obsessions steve loved sinatra for tom it was the kennedys we lost two of our own to the sea less than a year after greg drowned, almost taking two of us with him.

  12. perhaps water & bolexes should not mix close your eyes rub them or stare at the rising sun early morning rooftop revelation fistful of mushrooms suite full of beautiful hairy-legged hippie women saw jann right before he died just after I had been kicked out of film school in the middle of my junior year (my first failure) he looked at me with gentle eyes and quoted godard reaching out to the invisible dumb kid from the island whom no one took seriously wanted to scream at them how is he different & why is he gone? "if they take away my camera, I will use a typewriter, if they take that, I will use a pen & pencil" these words lead me back to poetry.

  13. the crowd scene. the high speed chase scene. the alien scene. the explosion scene. the empire strikes back. high tech kinetics rendered in cotton candy pink & green, with a sweeping score composed by bernard hermann or john williams. the phantom menace. passive aggressive? sucker born to smoke whatever is placed in his eager mouth?

  14. you gotta be fuckin' kiddin'. suck on this. stay on target. I like coffee. c'mon tracy.

  15. reflective perfections anamorphic perversions pose colorful quest-shuns dynamic diagonals hair in the gate slow breath in the grain of the shadow pulsating with life like being inside someone's watching sharing someone's subconcious mind movies.

  16. cerebral cave wall moving visual search for the cracks in the clay the mystery obscured by blood vessel splay as mad rushing floaters swim past eyelashes in the way someone's watching all this thru a series of variable lenses.

  17. teary eyed but cannot look away for tragedy is shared at the cellular level headed backward downward and and and and and like a loop like a like a like a like a leader devouring its own tale.

  18. arc a type of movement eyes dart light dance jump from car hood to dew spattered leaf to her hair as she passes by the window reminds you of something reminds you and suddenly you are weeping and the two of you have never met yet you are certain that you have always known her.

  19. babylon rise and fall with each cycle of the moon birth life death pass quicker than twenty-four (24) frames selective memory saves the best clips in bite-size bits formatted to fit your screen to be replayed at the next awards show lucifer rising armageddon it and it doesn't really matter.

  20. romance fantasy poison every lover for the rest of your life suffers for failing to measure up to countless celluloid heroes like a spike right in your vein. no unhappy endings don't test well always time for a re-shoot but when the lights come up the someone watching all this is still all alone.

  21. look again. look again. look again. look again. look again. look again.

  22. one watch in all this is not enough like placebo wrapped in orgasm's clothing don't buy don't buy don't buy don't buy don't buy coke & don't accept "butter" on your

  23. pop cull sure enough? time two time too time to split bust some heads open perpetrate some parallel editing till they bleed till they grieve till they get up and leave determined to DO SOMETHING.

  24. see (it) move feel (it) prove heal (it) lose true (it) bruise. but how little we share dreams sitting in the dark waiting for someone to spark the fire someone watching all these shadows on the wall someone love to watch them dance need them need them need them come to realize reality is malleable so why not play? interference frequent seldom disturbing projector's magickal spin flicker tap something within someone watching someone watching someone watching all this.

Christopher Luna is a poet, editor, journalist, and performer from New York. In 1999 he received an MFA in Writing and Poetics from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado, where he completed a thesis on the work of Stan Brakhage. Luna's articles and criticism have appeared in the Island Ear, Rain Taxi, the Long Island Voice, the Boulder Planet, and the Colorado Daily. His poetry has appeared in publications including Gare du Nord, the Babylon Review, the Depths of a Greyhound Terminal, Luna 1976, and Big Scream, and he has a forthcoming chapbook from Dristil Press. Luna is a Staff Writer for Current Biography, a monthly magazine published by the H.W. Wilson Company in the Bronx, New York. He is editing the correspondence between Stan Brakhage and Michael McClure for future publication.

Links: (Summer 2000 issue)


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