In the beginning there was URBAN.NET And Chris felt the pull of creativity The need to begin a community.
I had the domain name URBAN.NET and I wanted to create a community based on urban people and their wants and needs.
I had my dream: my own copy of Caucus and my own Server -- what to name it?
Collaborative Hyperfiction written between 02-SEP-97 and 31-AUG-1998
In March only the smokers stood outside on the street where the party was allowed to spill.
Love poem written for Michelle in Hawaii from DC.
I don't even know where this poem came from. It really must have been possession, because this isn't very much me. Or is it? Well, its certainly innuendo.
The sky took the morning. Birds tore small holes in the quiet.
This poem is the end of a series of 1997-era poetry about seeing my friend Kathryn Medland after a few years. She was an amazing friend who I always adored for her love and lust for life. She honored me by featuring the work as part of her wedding reception's party favor and printed my words along with her other faves (e.e. cumming, etc.) and offering them to her wedding guests. It was high honor to me.
Mark and I keep Kayaks at Jack's Boats and since I was writing too much about girls and about psychobabble, I thought it prudent to allow my inner naturalist to surface.
The first rain brought all the leaves to the slick city streets.
I see that I wrote a lot of love poems when I was in my 20s
This is another of the poems that Kathryn Medland printed out to share with her wedding party. It was my biggest artistic honor to be there, like placemats, sitting at random table-settings. To be commingled and cojoined with the work of e.e. cummings.
A collaborative spontaneous hypernarrative I catalyzed back in 1997.
I visited Houston for a while in 1996. The Rothko Chapel is worth visiting Houston to see. It really can convince even the most resolute naysayer that there is something greater than ourself.
It's funny to find odd little treasures like this poem. I mean, what was it about the discman that made me feel like writing a poem?
In 1996, Anne Brossard and I traveled around the globe. Anne was in the last stage of freedom before attending graduate school at Columbia, and I a photographer. And I wrote this poem about the oppressive heat of Singapore, which is nothing compared to DC funk.
I usually don't write too much about places, especially in the US. Although I found this one, which is about Texas.
I guess I used to romanticize smoking French cigarettes.
I commissioned art from Velton Ross and received a poem, too!
I think I must have been obsessed with Camus at the time of this poem.
Probably a love poem about Michelle.
I was a bike courier for WEx, Washington Express, in my 20s.
Poem about visiting a volcanic eruption (grew up in Hawaii).
Back in 1994 I was part of a collaborative hiperfiction project called My Name is Scibe by Judy Malloy.
I fell in love with an English Rose named Liz Humphries while studying in England at UEA. When I met her, we were at the Norwich boat house for UEA. She wore a big unflattering sweatshirt, red as a Cardinal. I imprinted on it.
Love poetry from my 20s
Love poem written for and about my English Rose.
Literary love poem.
I wrote a lot of love poetry in 1994, all my love poetry was written in my 20s.