tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96827912012-01-16T10:51:55.715-05:00okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.comBlogger2151100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-37077742365220797842012-01-06T20:57:00.002-05:002012-01-07T14:25:55.754-05:00

(criteria of Metaphorical Family) Dear sister, Out the morning window of September, a train horn shivers, and the sunlit bricks grid the dancing verbena, nodding pink upon the sill. In the photo Mom sent of your daughter diapering her newest brother, his arms and eyes make a symbol meaning: “wanting mother”. When the dandelions blew off their heads this spring, your

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-63397896667699893962012-01-06T20:54:00.002-05:002012-01-06T21:16:47.132-05:00

(criteria of Metaphorical Family) Dear Mother, Wrapped around me, your arms pruned, dried to dust, and fell to the ground under the yawning Oklahoma sky The wind turned the dust into dirty shoes, and flung them into the trees of Brooklyn The prayers I kiss across your forehead are sweating and running your mascara

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-76586745003668935412012-01-06T20:47:00.000-05:002012-01-07T15:40:54.624-05:00

I don't know what I'm doing. But, I'm going to explore metaphor through familial relations, and vice versa, as an exercise to create poetry. The metaphor will overpower truth, family will become fictional, time and place will be wrecked. The point is to write under a framework, but unlike Walking Stiff Blues and Transit Prosody, which were written at and about specific times and places in

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-14975695377581469572011-12-28T20:05:00.001-05:002011-12-28T20:17:11.618-05:00

Always grappling with his innards he attempted to communicate by shoving everyone into his body. Watchfiends & Rack Screams

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-25589610784098170392011-12-23T20:38:00.000-05:002011-12-28T19:07:45.796-05:00

Journal Excerpts I'll get to know someone, talk to them frequently or semi-frequently for months/years, and then part with them for whatever circumstantial reason, never to talk to them again. Sometimes the communication fizzles out, but regardless, communications stops. I've always found this aspect of life bizarre and hard to adjust to. I still think fondly of many people, but realize I

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-65857911678855067042011-12-14T20:42:00.000-05:002011-12-15T09:58:18.698-05:00

"The soul has to find and hold its ground against hostile forces, sometimes embodied in ideas which frequently deny its very existence, and which indeed often seem to be trying to annul it altogether." --Saul Bellow I had a good thought and marinated it till it was at it's juiciest, only to find that as I sat down to write it, it had evaporated. But it had to do with the point, if there is a "

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-66971751410692845772011-12-12T20:00:00.002-05:002011-12-12T21:48:36.055-05:00

There's always something to want, always something "better" to be had, but I'm grateful for the times I realize how lucky I am to listen to music and read in our heated apartment while my lovely wife navigates facebook. I'm grateful for how being in the same room with her puts me at ease, regardless of whether or not we're "interacting".

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-14885707261218371562011-11-23T10:41:00.001-05:002011-12-12T21:46:55.393-05:00

I had a dream last night that I was standing on the steps of a building much like the Met, but instead of Fifth Avenue, I looked out onto a plaza with a fountain that led into a park. And poetry was scrolling through the air. There was a little eddie of stanzas near the fountain. Words like birds zipped across the sky. Some were dancing ribbons of syntax. I spent the rest of the dream trying to

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-38104747569900383102011-11-16T20:26:00.001-05:002011-12-12T21:49:06.318-05:00

New York 101: The Definitive Guide to New York City listed okieinthecity.com as one of the top 100 blogs of New York. Pretty cool to have this honor come out of the blue. I have no idea how they found me.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-73061077366958248732011-11-09T15:32:00.003-05:002011-11-09T15:32:33.401-05:00

In need of some good soul salve? Come on down to the Nuyorican cafe tomorrow night and hear some great music and poetry from kind and goofy people alike. Michelle-Leona Godin is kicking the evening off with her avant accordion brain smash. If you've never heard, no, experienced this, you're in for a treat. Yours truly with the Kick Assonance crew, Steven Leyva and Christian Erickson, will

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-57699627458323733462011-09-07T11:13:00.000-04:002011-09-07T13:05:57.809-04:00

Poets going soviet. Much thanks to NY Daily News, NY Going, The Lodown, and Slice Lit Mag for your kind mentions. Poster design by Christian Ericson.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-32766128332815100422011-08-29T12:39:00.002-04:002011-08-29T21:00:40.400-04:00

I found a letter I had written to General Schwarzkopf as an assignment for my fifth-grade English class. My grandmother sent it to me a few years ago. Apparently, I felt I could colloquially address the general. Little me was self-conscious about being small for his grade, but other than that, was an egotist who talked about himself for the majority of the letter, even squeezing in how others

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-67095130786139242512011-08-28T22:07:00.000-04:002011-08-28T22:07:03.127-04:00

Leslie cut some audio of this poem from the the fun Kick Assonance reading, and I drew some sketches to accompany it. Enjoy.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-37403926879333675892011-08-24T11:48:00.001-04:002011-08-24T11:49:13.496-04:00

Click image to enlarge.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-63446994538847364952011-08-21T11:08:00.003-04:002011-08-21T11:11:31.681-04:00

"Can you do me a favor and stop rubbing that early 90s Pop all over my body."

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-26673328671813104232011-08-19T10:22:00.003-04:002011-08-20T23:28:27.964-04:00

Oh, how pleasure flames permanent flying gestures across your temples

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-73093567419342695932011-08-12T21:33:00.032-04:002011-08-29T16:50:44.646-04:00

Letter to a friend who asked, "What is New York?" Sir, When I first moved to NYC, the most cosmopolitan aspect of her reminded me of Valencia, Spain, the only big city, 4 million people, I've lived in, though I've passed through many. A philosopher from Baltimore made an overnight round-trip just to see Steven and my poetry reading in Brooklyn. He was confident he could navigate the madness,

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-25679905928138849202011-08-12T20:41:00.000-04:002011-08-12T20:41:41.695-04:00

My 200th. For this I'll eat a Frisbee . . . again.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-48767442390408172202011-08-11T08:45:00.002-04:002011-08-11T09:09:18.728-04:00

How often I forget the sacred sunrise, the eye of God. Pantheists were on the right track if they didn't hit the nail . . . eye on the . . . pupil. The air is different. Fewer people. Cooler. "For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you". What I know for sure is that people don't talk as much in waking hours, and that is holy.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-57263397711391229112011-08-08T12:07:00.001-04:002011-08-15T14:05:53.420-04:00

There's a duo eclipsing the horizon that may blaze skulls dry with vibes, though they're likely to fortify the touring tradition the Liverpool mops began in '65, i.e., not touring. Either way, look out for original Ruddies blowing up your iPods soon.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-73879328184155499462011-08-05T09:45:00.002-04:002011-08-05T09:48:54.371-04:00

"I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things." Isaiah "Chaos, the war of opposites, is, as we know from the Bible, the condition of creativity, which must be mastered by the creator." Bloom "One must have chaos within to birth a dancing star." Nietzche "Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-62209156233792513742011-08-04T13:29:00.004-04:002011-08-04T20:42:30.858-04:00

Les and I returned from Chicago where we had our portraits drawn by our 7-year-old niece, Julia. After seeing her dark Russian interpretation of my profile (see the Raskolnikov rings under my eyes?), I glanced at her signature and began to explain that Jove was the Roman god of love*, until I realized that her spelling was just a beautiful mistake. Les got a catepillar next to the correct

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-24195235494334933602011-07-27T09:30:00.000-04:002011-07-27T09:30:36.852-04:00

Ripped off here.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-17361287301009520752011-07-25T19:23:00.003-04:002011-07-29T08:50:00.016-04:00

August 30 Click here.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-2275781747761440392011-07-25T14:53:00.002-04:002011-07-25T19:56:33.051-04:00

Leslie + Mirror Mirror = Powerful. And this is what her band really looks like. Andy, Daniela, Colin and Leslie.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-20050841257599018892011-07-23T14:13:00.005-04:002012-01-07T15:39:35.629-05:00

B'More Poetic: July 23, 8 p.m. Thank you, OhMyGoshko, Kick Assonance, Casey Leyva, Simon Leyva, and B'More Poetic

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-23515356729433200012011-07-22T01:30:00.002-04:002011-08-21T10:47:42.704-04:00

Where will Leslie be when I'm gone? Does anyone know how much anguish that causes a loved one? Yes. Many know. I know this for sure: when you've given your heart to one person forever . . . forever is yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I passed a woman ordering booze, and she was giving the bar tender a hard time, arguing and yelling and being very, well, mean. When I waved to him, he looked like

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-91610925871909132642011-07-21T09:54:00.000-04:002011-07-21T09:54:14.837-04:00

I removed the unnecessary words. Love

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-53084629055691218472011-07-19T12:17:00.004-04:002011-08-04T13:34:50.643-04:00

Etheridge Knight reads "The Idea of Ancestry" B'More Poetic: July 23

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-63731466758835137092011-07-18T16:36:00.002-04:002011-07-18T16:37:25.775-04:00

The girl beside me on my flight to Indianapolis is diligently plowing through her novel while I'm flinging folders, scrawling 'cross journals, cranking iPod volume up and down, chomping cashews . . . . I'm a poet! She quietly reads by lamplight, and I apologize for kicking my bag at her feet, unintentionally.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-73486641963254694722011-07-13T11:33:00.003-04:002011-07-13T11:46:35.336-04:00

See, baby? It's the wind. See baby its the wind Sea baby its the wind ¿Mira la, preciosa? Lo es el viento. C BAB its the wind C'est magnifique ?! ¡Si, Claro! Siempre y nunca, o nada y pues nada. Photo stolen from Brian Ferry.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-91015480153459156972011-07-09T09:48:00.000-04:002011-07-09T09:48:01.278-04:00

If you're around Baltimore and hate poetry, come here (B'More Poetic) and spit on poets. If you love poetry, come and punch out the spitters.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-21535240892638976142011-07-07T09:30:00.001-04:002011-07-07T11:43:28.636-04:00

Eisenberg's Coffee Bagel Cream cheese Doors' "Light My Fire" Assonance kicked

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-67687278485691576932011-07-06T15:15:00.002-04:002011-08-08T18:41:27.132-04:00

Girl in spandex with purse can stop flirting because the man is yawning. Muscles, maybe? Yawn, definitely.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-80039467930450499722011-07-05T12:41:00.000-04:002011-07-05T12:41:36.807-04:00

Kicketh iteth. Lilith by David DeRosa.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-88807001042315877712011-07-03T07:23:00.002-04:002011-07-03T07:25:17.952-04:00

What siren rang these bells?      Sing to me,           softly or not. I will bear it or cease       to bear everything.           You, who bore me, is it you?      No. I can always hear           mother love.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-63341024057887476582011-07-01T23:35:00.002-04:002011-07-03T01:35:45.539-04:00

If you want to blow minds, meet this woman.  If you want to break hearts, meet this woman. See her show now . . . please. Buy tickets here for "Star of Happiness".

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-63876532689803494782011-07-01T17:06:00.004-04:002011-07-03T01:50:02.412-04:00

Bobby Jr. was always prepared for mind control by keeping his hands in his pockets. He was in Grand Central when a man walking around the terminal gave a command and everyone, I mean everyone (including himself), raised their hands. So Junior was always prepared now. Last week I asked him, “How do you eat?” “With focus,” he said. Such discipline at 5-years-old! I can learn a lot from him, I

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-24269116970137609382011-07-01T16:01:00.001-04:002011-07-06T15:22:12.925-04:00

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-31341304329163748392011-06-30T10:38:00.003-04:002011-08-22T18:12:54.185-04:00

this is a morning poem about morning things and you are one of them as i see the tree hit by light below 23rd on my way to work

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-71871397863393842792011-06-29T10:48:00.003-04:002011-06-29T22:27:52.930-04:00

Who?A voracious bowl and keen spoon. What?Sei la Vie, baby. When? I am dying for- and terrified of a forced sabbath. Where? Fraying my passport to find the Brooklyn of every city. Why?You're all I need to get by.How?Right now there are stacks of bricks in the living room.  Soon, they'll be my long-awaited dream of an exposed brick wall; but, I'm most excited about mixing the mortar,

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-44912683976651869192011-06-28T10:22:00.004-04:002011-06-28T16:48:30.647-04:00

Time Out New York Critic's Pick Slice Magazine NY Daily News Park Slope Patch New York Going Hop Stop

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-34181237868074998812011-06-25T08:19:00.002-04:002011-07-08T21:41:14.228-04:00

Photo courtesy of Craig Ruttle. Wednesday, July 6 · 7:30pm - 9:00pm The Sackett Bar Union stop on D,N,R Brooklyn, NY Created By Kyle Erickson, Leslie Goshko Hosted by LESLIE GOSHKO - www.ohmygoshko.com Writers STEVEN LEYVA - Mr. Leyva to his students CHRISTIAN ERICS0N - www.brightmoments.org SEI SHIROMA - www.seilavie.com KYLE ERICKSON - www.okieinthecity.com Photographer MARYANNE

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-38354000615119308692011-06-22T10:19:00.005-04:002011-06-22T14:44:17.815-04:00

Don Quixote is peaking over the turntable. Who?okieinthecity What?poetry poetry poetry When? always Where?the vortex Why?                    "It is difficult to get the news from poems           yet men die miserably every day                     for lack of what is found there." —WCWHow?Kick Assonance

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-47760740915162163892011-06-21T16:49:00.000-04:002011-06-21T16:49:31.106-04:00

Flight-attendant choreography is unsurpassed precision. North Korea has nothing on Jet Blue's who.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-19774241275565183592011-06-15T12:21:00.000-04:002011-06-15T12:21:41.189-04:00

How do I comprehend the peace that surpasses the understanding of Manhattan foliage? Why do women go to and fro talking of Jake Gyllenhaal? In what station at which metro do you see no faces? This is just to say who ate the plumbing of Central Park? Dear alpha, seriously?

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-74989938743733462292011-06-15T10:34:00.001-04:002012-01-06T20:50:15.399-05:00

Kick Assonance: 6 July 2011 Last year's first edition.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-64590145486040843192011-06-14T12:58:00.001-04:002011-06-14T13:00:54.349-04:00

Kick Assonance: July 6 Who?christian ericson What?your favorite colour When?all the time Where?it all began in marin county back in 1973 Why?not for me to say . . . How?with grace

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-14766956490210981242011-06-11T11:17:00.000-04:002011-06-11T11:17:58.014-04:00

 Warning: we are loud; turn down your speakers.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-54891123825540591722011-06-10T11:46:00.001-04:002011-06-10T11:46:49.791-04:00

Short Version Forever Home on Mind Garden Valley On the Road Forever Home on Mind Sundance Hal On the Road ORU Hal Valencia ORU Grady Leslie Grady's Rent House (1 day) Leslie 4W bk

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-8010594199459460922011-06-09T08:54:00.001-04:002011-06-09T08:54:43.710-04:00

Tailored crimped red shoes she bobs her head and bob cut to a tune heard only by her

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-79830757786152419352011-06-08T12:45:00.000-04:002011-06-08T12:45:20.470-04:00

Dark man plays air drums, sitting atop bucket in sun.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-30400481946758181272011-06-07T07:47:00.007-04:002011-06-22T10:14:14.839-04:00

Kick Assonance: July 6 Steven and Simon Leyva Who?An old man now, who's learned at lastwhat it means truly to be in love What?If I speak for the dead, I must leavethe animal of my body,I must write the same poem over and over When?Day off in a dark suit and hat Where? She would plunge all poets in the ninth circle Why?New York, madame,is a monument to a city How?I said, what if by

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-50485245699323632152011-06-05T19:47:00.000-04:002011-06-05T19:47:35.395-04:00

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-46444888628891426302011-06-04T10:22:00.004-04:002011-12-28T19:51:48.632-05:00

This was my Christmas present to Leslie in 2004. I finished the last panel in NYC on Christmas of 2007. The only thing that changed between cities was the geographical distance between us and long-time friends. (Click on images to view large.) My head was shaved for economical purposes.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-81823725135946773052011-05-31T19:50:00.002-04:002011-06-22T10:15:00.162-04:00

I'm interviewing the performers and rabble-rousers of Kick Assonance because they and the event are fun. Please find the most generic and absurd interview below. Photo courtesy of Maryanne Ventrice Who? Leslie "Oh My" Goshko What? Comedian, hypochondriac, lover of tube socks, and host of Kick Assonance! Where? In the cracks between your dreams. Wait, those would be nightmares. Never

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-67311551379083415352011-05-31T13:45:00.003-04:002011-08-19T10:13:58.217-04:00

www.okieinthecity.com presents Kick Assonance The Sackett (Sackett Street and 4th Avenue, Brooklyn [Union stop on D,N,R]) July 6 7:30 FREE *okieinthecity may become a cocktail. Seriously.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-4828573979870831582011-05-31T10:06:00.000-04:002011-05-31T10:06:11.509-04:00

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-85773887703095369552011-05-28T12:57:00.004-04:002011-06-17T20:05:22.709-04:00

Tattoos . . . ad nausea, hip?

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-65602565311359202522011-05-28T10:56:00.002-04:002011-05-28T10:56:57.516-04:00

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-87858807710332742322011-05-27T10:45:00.000-04:002011-05-27T10:45:13.867-04:00

What's your name? You are as old as mom and were cared for by Alpha. Please tell me.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-62934959712623164332011-05-26T09:07:00.001-04:002011-05-28T13:01:39.035-04:00

cup partiallycovers head andneck of 40oz bottle,only dustfree cupoutsidepile of othersnear the entrance of manhattan wherethe b train entersis dives into from the sky into darkness(hell) of workadayworkaday workaday...

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-17939971169283806082011-05-25T14:45:00.000-04:002011-05-25T14:45:26.674-04:00

train squeal hip hop people shuffle voices muffle (change at union sqr) heavy ac cute girls trip as train and brain accelerate couple chats           wah wah wah                     (charlie brown) train stops doors open...

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-46396996238599577682011-05-25T09:41:00.000-04:002012-01-06T20:51:20.563-05:00

And we're back: 7:30, July 6. Venue courtesy of The Sackett Bar.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-50354551435640087492011-05-24T11:05:00.003-04:002011-05-24T11:06:15.526-04:00

Golf ball now black next to basketball and crunched milk carton on the tracks

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-49397809009660399572011-05-23T11:31:00.000-04:002011-05-23T11:31:28.871-04:00

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-8498088938992629782011-05-22T10:46:00.002-04:002011-05-22T22:21:48.023-04:00

Man, well groomed, enters, sits and talks to ungroomed young man, standing on R train, who enters with him and replies. "I ain't got the tickets. I forgot 'em. They ain't here," sitting man says. "What's that mean?" "They ain't here, they ain't here." "What's that mean?" "I ain't got 'em. Ah! here they are." Holds up waded plastic bag he'd been holding since entering the train car. "You

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-45647919964598264392011-05-18T21:27:00.000-04:002011-05-18T21:27:18.269-04:00

Fiction Excerpt Somehow we age a decade every year in New York City and are never the wiser. When a person turns away from me, the silence begins and anxiety fills it -- the faceless void is filled with pain. But what's worse is the sound of faces, of the multitude of faces brashing against me for every single second I'm on the street. Give me the void and my anxiety! accompanied by comforting

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-2164753943438006992011-05-13T19:08:00.000-04:002011-05-13T19:08:18.067-04:00

When I asked him to hold The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams, the Borders sales clerk laughed and said, "Okay, but no body's looking for him, man."

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-23181953701105903272011-05-13T16:06:00.002-04:002011-05-13T19:11:13.657-04:00

for the leaves pop           for having sun                for increasing photosynthesizers four flooding veins fill forever           for now, always, past...                for my soul aches for your green

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-27933796969225379062011-05-11T00:31:00.008-04:002011-05-13T15:50:38.155-04:00

Journal Excerpt It's difficult to assess the volume of jazz when listening to the phono alone. I'm always thinking of loved ones, and I love so many. I recently had a hierarchical list of friends in the back of my pocket journal, which I amended over time till it was just composed of family. But everyone, blood related or not, was family -- and the list void. I often think of family out of

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-73471373805779489052011-05-03T20:26:00.002-04:002011-05-05T14:44:54.669-04:00

If only I could simultaneously consume two books with respective eyes...

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-54766835093905936742011-04-28T08:09:00.016-04:002011-05-07T02:30:46.458-04:00

I. The birds are talking, Madrugador, but they quiet as rain clatters on graveyard commuter trains that shuffle under the tombs of Manhattan. Why'd you break your soul off in her belly's gears? Was it worth it? II. With moons for eyes and mountains for shoulders you hover over your breakfast darkness while loons swoon lovers under the covers of the Atlantic. III. The cock crow cranked your

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-48752556459996903912011-04-26T10:50:00.000-04:002011-04-26T10:50:38.069-04:00

Jack of all trades, master of one.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-17929966678004586812011-04-24T11:50:00.002-04:002011-04-24T19:00:40.524-04:00

     when I turn to my left           I see machinations unfolding to create my perspective      a fluttering of cubes out of           sync but in unison a patchwork of butterflies      crying in the night the void           all in a blink of an eye and then and then      and then           a tree in bloom a magnolia a stamen      a pistil           you and me

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-26845305183941319092011-04-20T21:42:00.001-04:002011-04-21T00:19:46.723-04:00

If Leslie offered me The Apple, I'd bite the Hell outta it.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-72100409951562209582011-04-20T10:43:00.001-04:002011-04-21T00:31:13.024-04:00

When macro extreme of physics mirrors micro,  what's reality?

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-79727011023623449612011-04-16T09:27:00.000-04:002011-04-16T09:27:26.407-04:00

What's a poem? How do I use it?

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-11990487956037318772011-04-14T13:23:00.005-04:002011-06-05T20:04:01.244-04:00

For Evan Karachalios At my wedding my grandfather said "The wife is a radio, the husband a signal; whatever you give her, she'll amplify back." My dad said, "If I listen to your mom directly after work, for at least 30 minutes, there's peace in the home." Woody said, "Take her on a date once a week. You don't have to spend money, just buy a cola and hold hands at the mall."

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-56404036262772303382011-04-13T10:26:00.001-04:002011-05-22T10:34:58.967-04:00

A man entered the R train and forcefully repeated, "Quiet your voices please, I'm a real angel, or I'll move you with the wind of my wings," and fled at the next stop, where two violinists entered one end, and two girls the other -- the violinists played E Major Partita by Bach and the girls laughed nonstop. Can too many heralds visit me before my morning coffee? No.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-47602030710396560352011-04-13T08:13:00.002-04:002011-07-18T17:05:34.127-04:00

I told William Carlos Williams he couldn't perform at the reading because he was dead. He recommended Randall Jarrell. I didn't have the heart to tell him . . . WCW portrait stolen from here.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-29300342873498950162011-04-09T08:55:00.000-04:002011-04-09T08:55:03.661-04:00

Hangover-head shaves a layer between instinct and civility

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-10634973025067868882011-04-02T13:18:00.015-04:002011-05-06T16:56:07.028-04:00

ripped out your heart and ate it.* I was teaching an unruly class of high school sophomores when the most difficult student asked, "Mr. E, why do you use such strong language?" "To keep your attention," I said. I often used graphic, hyperbolic expressions to maintain the focus of the twitter-head generation. Image found via google search and ripped off Crazed Afrykan. This week I thought of

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-17679089350929031432011-03-31T07:58:00.000-04:002011-04-13T11:45:00.805-04:00

gloaming is near yes! walking home through park

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-52419859463538908612011-02-19T21:23:00.008-05:002011-06-29T22:50:46.629-04:00

I'm fascinated with the crazies in New York: why they're crazy, how they're crazy, if I'll one day be crazy. I think a part of the reason why they are is because city life complicates human interaction with others and our environment. In my Insanae excerpt, the narrator mentions the phenomenon of personal space being on its head here. A city dweller is very close to many people he ignores daily.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-13558386554567785312011-02-16T00:29:00.001-05:002011-02-16T01:15:08.723-05:00

Smell the bubble gum that girl's chewing 2 columns down? Train's a coming.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-15102461977984426422011-02-11T11:55:00.002-05:002011-04-13T11:49:47.269-04:00

Every morning I begin the day by reading a good book on my commute. Every morning I have to stop reading it to go to work.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-35216193049845036352011-02-10T10:24:00.004-05:002011-05-22T10:34:58.968-04:00

These Brooklyn women      have been talking over each other           for the last five stops on the Q— how do they know when      to give and take in the conversation? There's no silence till they      both check their phones           on the Manhattan bridge. It's annoying.      But sublime too. Their rhythm and inflection      continually unfold like           waves from the shore...

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-66287393683602242932011-02-04T12:14:00.002-05:002011-04-13T11:48:51.583-04:00

 Though I look like I'm taking notes in this conference room, I'm actually doodling. 

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-20379714318006872492011-01-19T16:38:00.004-05:002011-02-18T01:24:13.269-05:00

Last week I was late for a get-together with friends but trekked out of my way to scrounge a copy of Gogol's Collected Tales from the library on 58th Street.  Though the catalog said it was on the shelf, it wasn't. I asked a clerk for help, and we looked for around 30 minutes till he pulled out a beaten copy from behind a row of books.  I said, "Holy shit!" How it feels finding lost things!

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-8627964219480635932010-12-14T10:49:00.001-05:002011-04-13T11:57:42.903-04:00

The last, for now, in the Okie Audio series.  Thanks, everyone, for listening. Encore for Leslie

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-85761151103612613512010-12-11T12:41:00.002-05:002011-04-13T11:53:23.291-04:00

Thank you all for listening and for your kind words on here and on facebook.  This is my next to last recorded poem I'll be posting.  Wish I had more. Thanks again. -Kyle Bela Fleck and the Sparrow Quartet at Castle Clinton

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-56309040404189758122010-12-10T10:54:00.000-05:002011-04-13T11:53:23.292-04:00

On a lighter note.... Haiku 1 View of Earth from a Star

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-41886325553929929422010-12-09T12:19:00.000-05:002011-04-13T11:57:42.904-04:00

I wrote this over several months in 2003 and 2004. At the time, I was writing my senior paper over Allen Ginsberg, which is apparent. This is the first poem I was proud of having written. Forever Home on Mind I wept into the sea; it did not overflow. (Buddhist meditation) Spread out over a great distance      like a tremendous giant fallen dead,           my heart, heavy with sadness,

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-51434174581365283032010-12-08T10:17:00.002-05:002011-04-13T11:53:23.294-04:00

Today's poetry reading is of a few of the 3-line poems in the Walking Stiff Blues series. I haven't included links to the specific poems because I think it's kind of fun to listen to them without the text. But if you'd like to read them, you can click on the WSB label below. Enjoy! Thanks to Electric Literature for the recordings.

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-1543616925964602852010-12-07T12:08:00.024-05:002011-04-13T11:57:42.905-04:00

Thanks to Chloe at Electric Literature, I now have several quality audio recordings of my poetry.  I'll post one recording a day for the next week. Here is the recording: Here is the poem: Aunt Sylvia. I'm very excited about this.  Thanks for reading/listening. -Kyle

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-70117882912422760222010-12-05T19:13:00.008-05:002011-09-06T13:37:00.252-04:00

Fiction Excerpt New Yorkers are no longer conscious of their personal space, but their consciousness was harshly and quickly eroded.  Each hated his first rush hour on the subway as much as the next: having a woman's purse rub against his crotch for several stops, a sour armpit in the face -- in fact, the bums, though most are crazy, are more protective of their space; they intentionally muddy

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-58011688742204438102010-11-30T19:27:00.004-05:002011-04-13T11:49:47.270-04:00

"In this there is no measuring with time. A year doesn't matter; ten years are nothing. To be an artist means not to compute or count; it means to ripen as the tree, which does not force its sap, but stands unshaken in the storms of spring with no fear that summer might not follow. It will come regardless. But it comes only to those who live as though eternity stretches before them, carefree,

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-15601087898821353152010-11-12T15:27:00.003-05:002011-04-13T11:49:47.271-04:00

Got Blake's Songs of Experience from man on street with foldout table and 50 paperbacks who prides himself on his selection.  He sits and reads and sells all books for $5. Three weeks ago, not knowing him, I asked if he'd accept my 4 sole dollars for a book, and he said: "No, but you can take the book for now and come back with the extra dollar later." I'm always attempting, I think, to dive

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9682791.post-50180198166430262022010-10-22T11:20:00.005-04:002011-04-13T12:01:06.192-04:00

I just read and loved Gerald Howard's essay, Never Give an Inch, in the latest edition of Tin House. It's about the class divide in contemporary American authors, specifically the lack of working-class American authors and fiction. Howard mentions that an author's bio used to contain the many jobs of his past, illustrating that he had been around the block and knew what he was writing about. 

okieinthecityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04102377939595252152noreply@blogger.com11