Berlin, 2009
We want more voices, thoughts and languages!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Buttman in Pornotopia & Other Stories (Anti-porn lit. DIY!)
« M. Teste, d'ailleurs, pense que l'amour consiste à pouvoir être bêtes ensemble »
Paul Valéry
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INDEX
Impinge Your Pen
Oder von den Händen vom lieben Gott
Porn-CV
Fuckin’ Fuck
First Movement: Love
Buttman in Pornotopia
One Cannelloni and Two Spaghetti alla Puttanesca
Buttman and the Supereuros
Reading Pork Dreams
Deco Porn: Manifesto Mundi or On the Feet of the Lord
Click here to go to the texts
or email us for a crisp DIY copy!
Paul Valéry
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
INDEX
Impinge Your Pen
Oder von den Händen vom lieben Gott
Porn-CV
Fuckin’ Fuck
First Movement: Love
Buttman in Pornotopia
One Cannelloni and Two Spaghetti alla Puttanesca
Buttman and the Supereuros
Reading Pork Dreams
Deco Porn: Manifesto Mundi or On the Feet of the Lord
Click here to go to the texts
or email us for a crisp DIY copy!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Little Cathedrals of Capital
Between two black suits, the screen
as failure's beauty springs, unfolding
ornaments embedded in the bricks of banks.
My thought a mantle weaves between the
elements, the corners of the streets, finding
momentary lodgings in between each brick
wondering back in-midst the suits, reclines,
goes back a step or two, and
Leaps:
Everything has be-come
something entirely other
through the curtains' shade
the camera's strange angl
reconnects the stars without horizon.
Tell us more:
When this window shatters, the
color of the glass will wipe away
the lion's face in stone:
there are chairs that unfold
space and windows without bars
that sketch the outlines of prisons
My thought, hidden:
in blue, a shadow, wrapped in
space, rested against the light:
green and unusual, sometimes alive
the camera shifted, doubling the room.
There was a silence like a song.
Forbidding metaphors
we nonetheless take distance:
a flag, a rag the wind plays
with -- on the sails a stain
of living, hiding, lookin --
us.
[Somehow very sad and very nice.]
as failure's beauty springs, unfolding
ornaments embedded in the bricks of banks.
My thought a mantle weaves between the
elements, the corners of the streets, finding
momentary lodgings in between each brick
wondering back in-midst the suits, reclines,
goes back a step or two, and
Leaps:
Everything has be-come
something entirely other
through the curtains' shade
the camera's strange angl
reconnects the stars without horizon.
Tell us more:
When this window shatters, the
color of the glass will wipe away
the lion's face in stone:
there are chairs that unfold
space and windows without bars
that sketch the outlines of prisons
My thought, hidden:
in blue, a shadow, wrapped in
space, rested against the light:
green and unusual, sometimes alive
the camera shifted, doubling the room.
There was a silence like a song.
Forbidding metaphors
we nonetheless take distance:
a flag, a rag the wind plays
with -- on the sails a stain
of living, hiding, lookin --
us.
[Somehow very sad and very nice.]
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
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