Tag Archives: editor
Cruel Ideas
on flammable wings,
cigarette sears
till crushed paper stem,
anthologize those words
expressing deeper resonance,
ashtray full,
critical insect scattering
itself about the table,
unconcerned,
only for the journal
and words contained,
glasses pinching eyes
now reddened,
how many coffees
a breeze touched his face
butterfly fell,
still now on sidewalk
unprepared for this
immediate cruelty,
he looked again
at his journal,
those left handed
surges of ink,
had they meaning
and if so
would anybody care
Darren Aronofsky 1994 Short No Time
For Those Today
that be idle on
half dreamy air
at evenings rise and wonder
near hearts gather
kin and kisses
sweetness not grown cold
gather and share
in touched whispers
vast spread of turkey trimmings
indulge in wine and pudding
near to unbroken
given to each other
Boris and the New Picnic
Boris Strugatsky 1933-2012
i was sad to hear Boris Strugatsky had died, joining Arkady who died in 1991 , both now physically lost yet their minds and words live on.
For me Roadside Picnic which became Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker was a landmark especially as i saw it as a double bill with Solaris , watching for me was an expansion of the mind i did not fear or contract from subject and length, so much of the analogy that our world has been visited is true to the extent of our ruination of this world and the traps we set both physical and psychological that have been the rise and fall of our civilizations and also so much was said of culture and politics.
Red Schuhart is a great character as the Stalker or scout wandering the zones finding pieces to sell illegally that aliens may of left behind we also have the horrors of children growing deformed and the dead rising i could go on but say get the book watch the film and immerse yourself in the genius of the Strugatsky’s.
watch Stalker http://archive.org/details/Stalker_891
and to read Roadside Picnic
http://www.scribd.com/doc/93724979/Arkady-and-Boris-Strugatsky-Roadside-Picnic
Exit And Answer
Terry S Amstutz
dead flaked walls,
i breathed there
my fear saw the grey plaster
with gun at my side,
ears distilled sounds
a gunshot,
sirens and screaming,
my unmended nature
by sociological discourse,
returned fire,
i hit someone,
who.. i did not know,
body temperature raised
clammy trickle down my back,
this was my trap
one exit only,
sometimes i wish i listened
but chose not to,
shouts down the hallway
torches and light,
light attached to guns,
robbery no excuse
to evade poverty,
now i was fallen
and unreachable,
lifting gun hand
i knew what to do
@dVersePoets with Terry S Amstutz
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