My Belongs Dada Heart to

Another major influence on me was Dada which lead to another major influence: Surrealism. In particular the art, which was at time more gimmick & concept than painterly technique. I loved Marcel Duchamp – ‘The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even’ visually & conceptually infused me with a strong sense of the possible, while Salvador Dali infused me with a strong sense of the absurd.

The collages used ironic, sometimes non sequitur, images to create an emotional & intellectual resonance in the viewer. One writer Tristan Tzara would take random lines from random books to create poem. This was also the movement that invented the  to disorientate readers. I have several books of their writings, painting and recordings of their music (Satie). Dada was the start of surrealism & cubism.

I also see the movement’s influence on T.S Eliot, Dylan Thomas, Ginsberg, ee cummings, Warhol. Both the art and the writing demonstrated to me that linear narrative isn’t necessary. Imagery didn’t have to make sense to make sense. Sometime the power in a word or words was in how they sounded, in how they resonated in the reader, rather than in what story they might be telling.

The photos in my blog here reflect my Dada influence, rarely do they have anything to do with the text. When I’m taking pictures it’s sometimes the odd juxtaposition of objects that attracts my eye. My poems can include what to me is surrealist images: ‘balls like emu eggs in my hand’ ‘my fridge made a pass at me the other day.’

 

Dada & surrealism respected the power of the dream, of automatic writing as a creative process. Of course if I could become famous by signing urinals I’d give it a try.

Lʼamour domestique

my fridge made a pass at me

the other day

I was in my usual hurry

to get the milk

when

the door caressed my cheek

pushed me into its cool

welcoming heart

 

now Iʼm not into sex

with inanimate objects if I was

I would probably pick

my coffee maker

something small and easy to satisfy

 

the fridge is never filled

always has demands that

make me feel inadequate

while the coffee machine

fills to brim so quickly

 

yes give me hot and perky

to big and cold – any day

but it was one of those days

the kitchen chairs were

plucking at my pant legs

like over excited little dogs

humping a foot

it made eating almost impossible

 

I wasnʼt sure

what to do with the left overs

the fridge was glaring me

petulant

at being snubbed

in favour of the coffee maker

 

in the bathroom

the face cloth competed

with the tooth brush

to get in my mouth

until the towels

pulled them aside

to push me into the shower

they needed all my body wet

for the satisfaction they craved

 

I didnʼt have the moral strength

to deny them anything

they rubbed and dried

every square inch

 

the sofa was anxious for me to

snuggle in front of the TV

I had to watch

home decorating shows

about getting cute little throws

hints from the sofa

of what would make

our family complete

 

in bed the pillows

tenderly cradled my head

as the sheets twined around me

hungry for dreams

about coffee makers

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6


http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday 2019


June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

August 2-13: getting back to my roots in Cape Breton
Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

Hey! Or you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2020’s capfireslam.org – sweet, eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

 

pubic eden cilia

Unfinished

wisps of chin hair

glasses a la skater punk nerd

he laughed about Starbuck coffee

even tossed out a latin phrase

which wasn’t what I wanted

tripping from his tongue

a frisky feel in the dark corner of the bar

made it clear he was packing more

than his uber baggy jeans revealed

when we got back to his place

he dropped his pants to reveal

the creature from the porn lagoon

thicker than the accents

of an entire Brazilian water polo team

balls emu eggs in the palms of my hands

skin was cozy tattooed flannel

his tongue a whispering clock

tasted of unripe apples

his teeth warm endlessly round ice crystals

melted drooling draining

each step of the ten thousand to the temple

his nipples express train rush pressure

immersion into the guttural swamp of gasps

arm pits salt seasoned licorice tempura teasing

stomach muscle dunes

sahara but not parched for long

as we shifted camel humps

burdened with a growing growling treasure

an oasis of pubic eden cilia

savoury basil black fresh crushed rushed

the creature from the porn lagoon

an already oozing fountain

watermelon baby power

his trembling tip lip touch

tumble choices chances escaping grasps

pushing back for more torrent torment

his laugh now clinking unfinished

coffee cups of memory

blackdots

This is one of my favourite pieces to perform with a rich surreal set of images and indulgences. The guy is a fantasy fanatical figure based on random types that show up in porn. The meeting is real, the latin is real but then everything gets launched into Dali-land.snowclubs01

I love the ‘porn lagoon’ image, the way it mocks the queer male obsession with size while at the same time relishing it too. The Creature in the Black Lagoon was attracted to the body of a perfect young female, who was unaware of it until it too revealed itself to her. Many of these images flowed quickly. silvertoaster

When I wrote this I had recently seen a Chopped episode in which the mystery basket included gigantic emu eggs. The shells were so thick they needed to be broken with a meat tenderizer mallet. The accents come from my own love of accents – thick a play on cock size at the same time.

I pushed the paradox & also the actual logic of the images to make them even more sensory & nearly senseless at the same time – ‘tongue a whispering clock’ – I get it but wtf? I work capture the momentum of sex, the tastes as well. I enjoy all the flavours that flow through here – the slip of metaphor, to simile to allegory. No double entendres but at the same time no actually genital explicitness. snowclubs02

We all know what is already oozing by this point without me having to name it. Watermelon is another of those less that coy size references. I bring things back to the start – the meeting in starbucks for coffee, to those unfinished drinks in memory.

money

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

broken record
broken record

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet