21 August 2015

Po Boy New Orleans

"Mere Nola got me. It's the first poetry book in a very long time I read cover to cover and felt bad that it didn't go on. It's a hell of a book, memoir, diary, journal, told with perfect pitch, great ear, perfect spoken Ingles. Tremendous writer, truly, master of the new Nawrleans lit, if not a chef d'ecole."
-- Andrei Codrescu

I Wuv My Van
DIY Couch Demo

Pahokee by Otis Ike

A West Texas Middle School Hell House by Otis Ike

From the Kay Bailey Hutchison Convention Center by Otis Ike

Savoy Gras by Otis Ike

The Mona Lisa Contest

Flower Photography in the Nineties


Rivers Paw


The Garage Door Storey

The Coffee Shop Photographs

There Is A Foot on Geary Street

It's in the Muni bay in front of Martell's Liquors at 20th Avenue; these pictures began in 1987 and end 2003. The last time I checked in 2011 it was still there, collecting its whathaveu. Nathan tries to correct me that Geary is not a Street, but a Boulevard, and a Grand one at that - its mail codes go from 94108 to 94121. But "there is a foot on Geary St." was the mutter that directed me to click my shutter the first time (after three years of notice) and this is what I mean by Language Photography...I recall my mild concern in 1997, when it was marked with orange paint as a defect to fix by a public works employee, but they never got around to repairing this impression made by a shoe cast in wet cement.


Colour Night Real Estate Photography

Corners and Napkins

in the end a pen takes to brick and flails

in the beginning, next to portions of four bricks

is a filthy paper waiting thumbnail, a napkin

chats about waiting in chairs at a reading to hear

then, turning the page a door slams

eardrum pulsing last cigaret looks

these are real corners you could encounter in the world

close at the scale of napkins, inside and out

what I have found, is a wave form

of course,  lunar lighting. stubble of stucco -

I could tell you plenty about Stucco, but Corners and Napkins

is not concerned with stucco, some corners trap

some corners - we do not know

some corners we do, for they Deify light

lime says cool

orange invites lizards to cross

green on the produce sign says notice

napkin relieves, assures

napkin will take a bullet for the Chief

napkin signed verifies invention

napkin tapping at corners of mouth

now decide if to lie and emphasize

cloud billow sail

perfection can be  routinely achieved in the photography of napkins

these resin coated colored 4"x6" papers are satisfying to compile

for the napkin photograph solicits its surface to write on and

i love cycles of perfection to ruin

some of these corners are severe

they are hard and promise it is a cold cruel world

corners you would not like in a prison guard

we like the corner that wanders for god

that cant, that wiggle, is ours

10 Covers of Triton


Inspector Wear Skirts

Hypermiling Saved My Life

   My Life in the Photo Booth

Sqibb City

20 August 2015




Randy's Discipline

Teacher dictated the lyric to Randy transcribed it 25 times.
It was exhibited in 1989 at New Langton Arts in San Francisco,
"Special Collections."

From a collection of mostly handwritten papers gathered by William Passarelli
Including a distressed loose leaf by Randy with a no two letters alike handwriting:

1. I will come when I am called. I will not break dance in
the halls. I will not laugh when teacher calls my name.
(x 25)

I heard, and became a colony of its refrain...

Chris Sullivan April 2009 New Orleans

17 July 2015

August 21, 2010 Repairing a ceiling in K's house, 

spreading mud, not exactly a Michelangelo at it, 

listening to As the World Turns, for a full minute 

thinking one of the characters is a man called Spot

 ("...Spot you are one of the most amazing Men 

I've ever met and you deserve..."); its actually

 Scott, but I may have a new song to work on...

 Regarding the damage to K's ceiling, there was a 

failure in the seal of the bathtub drain in M's 

apartment above. So a trip to the attic where a 

foregone conclusion as materialist 20th century 

human condition abides and testifies to a 

prosperity of sorts: 19th century sewing machines 

next to a 45 inch plasma tv box, for instance, and a 

Canon Windows 95 desktop computer, guitars, 

teddy bears, old water heaters, clothes, blankets, 

beads, building materials, knick knacks, Ronco 

gadgets, souvenirs, reel to reel audio tapes and the

 close tips of old nails coming through the roof... I

judge it a hazard that to clear before a plumber 

enters, as I'm not touching this crawl-space 

corroded galvanized bath drain into brass fitting, 

no sir. So gather, collapse, and consolidate 

cardboard boxes (hating styrofoam) and fill 8 large

 garbage bags, but – there was a fancy shopping 

bag (Lenox Gifts That Celebrate Life) containing 

two large ziplock baggies, enclosing two quart 

sized plastic tubs (inside paper bags) with snap 

lids. I am a conscientious sorter, and this attic has 

its share of rare fine good and no telling among all

 the boards and dvd player box junk. At first I 

think, bath salts? Then open the other. It is 

calcium of an aggregate particle size I recognize - 

along with a faint, indefinable (dreadful) smell - I 

recoil. Human remains. As if the spirit came out 

and enervated me, a little like nausea, and I had to

take a break. I bring K his old beautiful guitar that 

has been residing here two decades at least. And a 

soft white Christmas Teddy bear with a blue 

sweater. He doesn't know about anyone’s ashes. It 

must be an old tenants he says. Probably shouldn't 

leave them there I say. Oh no, K agrees, they could 

be haunting the house. Maybe you could spread 

them in the garden. I think of these damn feral cats 

who I can not keep from shitting in my flower bed, 

I think of the Mississippi, five blocks away, 

sometime this evening. In the meantime, where to 

keep these two containers – the fancy shopping 

bag was torn in the strife of purging the attic. Not 

coming into my house. Not in the bucket in my 

bikes cargo basket. There's a plastic cooler under 

the house. Cool shady secure chill, someones 

ashes. I set it inside. And tonight, I think I'm going 

to go... down to the river, and hope that's alright 

by you . So, two quart sized polyethylene snap lid

 jars, containing human ashes, sheathed in paper 

bags enclosed in ziplock baggies, found inside a 

fancy department store bag in K's attic this 

morning, left long ago by tenant unknown, the sun 

is waning but yet bright, are you ready? For a long 

time. Ride in the black shoulder bag Rebecca gave

 me 2003 or so. Okay I'll tell you two stories, I 

collected a lot of fine beach stuff in this bag, from 

the Gateway to the Spirit North America, and once

 religiously kept composition notebook and pen

 and blood glucose monitor. Ahh. Sorry. Tug my 

shoulder. About...5 lbs of Calcium? It’s a lot of 

ballast. What about Washington Square Park - I'm 

not getting a clear picture of the Big Muddy. This

 grove with a winding path to the Nola Aids 

Memorial. Engraved names on granite bricks and 

glass faces with memorial benches. Long leaves,

 purple flowers. And how about some grass. Bright 

and sunny. Frisbees and blankets and novel 

readings and picnics, that sound alright? Yes the 

white chips are kind of conspicuous for much. 

Maybe a teaspoon of you, mostly white, some tan, 

orange, yellow, a blackness or two. I don't like 

looking too close. I met this park in October 2005 

when it had been taken over by commune hippies 

and barefoot doctors. It was called the Welcome 

Home Kitchen and it was a beautiful thing for a 

traumatized derelict and 4/5ths abandoned city. 

800 meals a day, good meals, a place to 

congregate. Free Peanut Butter and clothes and 

condoms. Meals Ready to Eat. Very Nice 

Vegetarian Dinners. Community. Then the 

Property Owners got upset and shut it down after 

Thanksgiving...Lets walk down Frenchmen. I'd 

like a beer from the Deli. And a Peanut Crunch 

bar just for you. Two pretty young girls in little 

dresses and chubby arms just came in all smiles... 

You like this kind of evening don't you. Warm and 

golden hued, those racketing insects in the trees.

 Maybe you were the entomologist, I don't know, 

cicadas', crickets... Now past Check Point 

Charlies. One guy playing to no one, wah wah 70's 

funk, imagine that. A crosswalk while we wait for 

a green-light. I know you were cared about in that 

fancy shopping bag, inside a bag, inside a bag and 

inside these sealed jars. Maybe you were just too 

sudden or much for someone. At the time. I guess

 you are woman about 120-40 lbs, going by a 

previous container. I agree, and say no more about 

that disagreeable attic. Shoulder tug, I know you 

have been ready for a long time. Balcony Music 

Club – Sunny Side of the Street.... We wont go 

down Decatur! Left along the Mint toward the 

River, Right through the Market. Is closing now, 

just a few vendors closing shop. Would I be 

surprised at all to learn August 21 is the day you 

were born. A bantering going on. He's saying: 

That is None of Your Concern. This is about 

seeing him next Saturday. Good natured, it 

appears, but there's always an edge to things 

people say, you know that. Marvin Gaye on the 

PA. Isn't that sweet? Now live music playing in a 

courtyard and when we Kiss Fire... segue into sax 

solo – now another left. Smells a little like 

Singapore by this restaurant. The waiter is on his 

game and a big round table is happy. Its great 

smelling and eating tasty things don't you think? 

Now I can see the Bridge. This is going to be your 

view, okay. Governor Nichols Wharf to the left, 

Jackson Square to the right, Algiers just across the 

way, the Bridge right now, its a Joel Meyerowitz 

photograph, She and I took our 2nd walk in Nola 

here. A Saturday in June. That night she went to a 

wedding and came back a little past tipsy. I was 

staying in this big impressed with itself house all 

by myself. We slept in the corner bedroom. 

Sometimes we'd try the next one over. It was like 

changing sets or inhabiting a beautiful painting. 

She said she loved me and it wasn't just the drink 

saying so. Well it was, but I did.. Did you know 

this is where I made a movie called Deja Vu with 

Denzel? Yes Washington. Right across there in 

Algiers. I was National Guardsman Buck Private 

DUNN. $75 a day and good food. I felt like a dope 

in the uniform, but at least I didn't have to wear 

those silly sailor white bell bottoms. Yes, I did, 

and Denzel gave me the Stink Eye for staring. Oh 

he is definitely a lot of charisma. So lets do this. 

I'm climbing down the levee over these rocks. Its 

great being able to walk and balance and hop and 

carry you. Now there's a little sandbar. I'll put my

 feet in the water. First Jar. You are a cloud of 

powder drifting away from the scatter. You are a 

white plume in the water. You are sinking and 

filling in the ridges of sand. Walking a few yards 

away in the direction of the Bridge. You are 

another cloud of powder drifting away from the 

scatter. I've tried to throw you farther. There's a 

young man stacking or writing with rocks on the sandbar. A couple walking along the Levee. 

A man sitting up there saying 
–Last week the water was this high. 

Pointing to where he sits. 

The young man with the rocks says 

 –it can go down fast. 


Pause at the trash can. 

I'll keep these jars. 

Rinse them to keep my mother of pearl shards. 

If you don't mind. 

Walking back. The band is playing Chaka Kahn. 

Tell Me Something Good.

31 May 2015

M ' o p e r a




a smorgasbord of spills

a compendium of swills

a panoply of polenta

eggshells, coffee grounds

cookie crumbs

look! there's one

a Magnificent Morsel

of Oatmeal Raisin

up here who knows

if we ocean or land

so eat every speck of food on the plane

they give me

your voice came from so far away

it was so good to hear and say

Au, Contrail! 

("contrails" are flung: streamers of toilet paper)

above this ground of such travail

how the sky turns into a page

oblivious and blue

Rebecca Kauffman

Koom-Bacha Nation

Martha Strawn

Beheader of Prawns

That was 96

No, you are wrong

It must have been

Another throng

I like this one

The Italians are fun

Why dont we take a rest

That crumb is not going anywhere

the Crumb Sings

Shall all your cares beguile:

Wond'ring how your pains were eas'd

And disdaining to be pleas'd

Till Alecto free the dead

From their eternal bands,

Till the snakes drop from her head,

And the whip from out her hands

Now that the sun hath veiled his light...

oh lets. adopt a comfortable posture

to lean

and reminisce

we were just drying on the deck of the lake

David Whistles / Otis Redding

listening to Franticek and Jitka sing

the lonely Shepherd songs

from mountains of check republic

where Laffoley puzzled

the correct particle size pebble

to ballast the auxiliary

box-kite powered bird boat

kinda neo-dada Erica's

and Shannon's toy boat regatta

what was your favorite?

thing to lick?


I am a little embarrassed

Mops do not blush, just swell

of the liberally distributed dance floor sweat drop-lets of



I tried to sway him not to go but o


is on my mind



You know we can't have it all

And this sopped up bliss

Will just turn into mangy-ness

If we are not wrung soon

Oh Mot

We have to choose

Between this magnificently crumbled

Cookie and Vance's puddle of I-a-was-Ca

I think the former

So the lucky crumb is now the latter


There goes Gayle!

Au, Contrail...

May 1, 2008, Gathering at Lake Eden

produced by

Chris / Marguerite / Michael / Giuseppe Gavazza / Jan-Christoph / Nausicaa / Georgia / Molly / David / Elaine / Kevin / Marcus / Tom & Ted

Songs of Henry Purcell:

Music For a While

An Evening Hymn