April 12, 2007
The love child of Baudelaire and Falco. I love this man. He's backed me up more times than I can count and is one of the sources of my inspiration.
An afternoon w/ Dag can make life new.
Dagan
Stormcrow
There is a stirring,
The Wildlife Journals
Sun, October 28, 2007 - 1:05 PM
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Sat, October 20, 2007 - 10:04 PM
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Wed, October 10, 2007 - 5:31 PM
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Sat, September 22, 2007 - 2:47 PM
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Wed, September 12, 2007 - 7:00 AM
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Wed, September 5, 2007 - 12:13 PM
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Mon, September 3, 2007 - 3:41 AM
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Fri, August 24, 2007 - 7:31 AM
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originally published at Wildlife Journals
Testify! |
We're looking for folks who want to bend some genres, open some minds, give mass media the finger and create the sublime. Below is a list of our most current publications, and over on the left and down a bit is a list of the Wildlife Journals - a free publishing spot for whatever our members want to publish.
Wild Publications
Click here to view the entire Baby Tank Collection (component/option,com_flippingbook/Itemid,251/book_id,2/)
Mon, September 17, 2007 - 7:00 PM
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When I woke up she was gone. The letter contained one word, left on the nightstand: Gone. And no name signed at the bottom of the long, white page. She didn’t include customary smiling faces with X’s on the eyes. If it’s one thing I’m after it’s the ambrosia created by her leftovers. If it’s another, it’s a life not concerned with uncertain moments. Laying on my back in the middle of the livingroom, I rolled over onto my side and lay my head to the floor. All that was left was my spine, my neck, my beating and dazed heart. Nothing else. I saw her favorite slippers tucked by her own feet underneath the couch chair, her favorite spot. We had lived together for more than three years. Now, so she scribbled, she was gone.
Fri, February 16, 2007 - 11:38 AM
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The beauty of working on the road is the many facets of life I am privileged to witness. Once upon a time in Baltimore...
The cabbie throws his head back and laughs; one of those deeply reverberating soul coughs that make you feel good even if you don't get the joke.
He points at the cab in the next lane and says: "This old dude claims he slept with every woman in Baltimore, so he MUST be my daddy!"
Head out the window like a housebound basset on his way to the beach,
he skates close in
and roars:
"WHERE'S MY PONY?"
pork pie hat-
at a rakish angle
hides the old man's mirth
Fri, June 1, 2007 - 12:38 PM
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Odds
Ends
A stained-glass awning
An empty house
Of a girl
for a bed
An albatross-winged heart.
through windows
An ice-skate blade,
Left alone
Castile, white flax
outside
A swim-flight sunning
Murky calm,
Sylphide.
A dozen wishes.
Smiling enemies abound
He's gone to
Ancient promises, astound
dance around the clock.
Smiling back,
Spring's on the porch
And gaping over
My open door
Broken things.
Words left in space
digress.
resound.
A lost boy
Dream-Caped woman
Found by a lost
Unicorn Queen
girl
twin girls
Powers of 3 become 10's
but short
friends.
Believe in fairy-tales
Teamwork souped-up
but watch t.v.
sap machine
why do complaints
aimming javelins
sound like tin?
giggling nymphs
spin memories
smiling paintings,
for the future
baubles replaced.
in absolute Beauty.
for free
Inertia
tolls the belle
takes the hand, My solace
marks the saga
weathervane
...more Summer,
dueling lyra
less wind.
This is the first of what I call "Trinity Poems". The columns can either be read separately, or ping-ponged into one fusion.
~Alael
Wed, March 21, 2007 - 5:49 AM
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originally published at Wild Poets Publications
Alchemy Lessons
Been wanting to write a bit on the possibilities of superstring theory for a bit, and then this popped up over at Seed (www.seedmagazine.com/news/20...eory.php for the original) this morning, and so I sez, well, the universe is giving me a kick in the pants today. Better go and annoy them tribe folks some more... ;)
Wed, April 18, 2007 - 5:35 PM
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Basic string theory is this - that rather than the smallest units of matter being particulate, they're actually tiny strings of energy, vibrating... read more 
So I've been running this site, www.wildpoets.com, for about 6 years now. It's done pretty well considering our financing source is my spare change (gets about 12k unique visitors a month). Chose the name of Wild Poets because, well, because the folks who inspired it were crazy Wild things, and we spoke in poetry.
Fri, April 13, 2007 - 12:05 PM
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See, I grew up in the Napa Valley - not as some millionaire's son, but somewhere between white trash and disenfranchised intellectual out in the hills above the towns. There was ... read more
Sitting in a place where the karma of crazy has spun me a turn on Fortuna's wheel (with me on the ground for once), I gotta wonder why I keep getting caught between people who are between worlds. It's been a theme in my life - had enough crazy in myself for a bit, till I figured out the shaman's tricks cresting the Sisikiyous, but being near ten years solid I begin to wonder if I'm a moth blundering into mental bonfires, because apparently I'm not doing much to help the beautiful crazies I've...
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Thu, April 12, 2007 - 5:16 PM
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Behind the WordsGender
Male
Age
35
Location
about me
Hmm - kinda hard to box it all up into a bio, but here's the stuff that defines my life right now... I'm the father of two incredible sons, ages 2 and 8 months, first and foremost. I'm also the creator and publisher of Wild Poets (www.wildpoets.com) - an online community of poets, musicians, artists and writers that's been humming along for about 6 years. Before that, I was a poet/musician/philosopher myself. I've been tumbling up and down the west coast for a while now, and have slipped through pretty much every scene - still dig dancing to Jungle and Goa, but can chill with Josephine Baker just as easily. Was one of the Orange Kids back at the beginning of that scene, but haven't really been a part of it for the past few years.
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