Tag Archives: Outlaw

todd moore | gary goude and that crushed rotting dawg

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Every

significant poet is surrounded by a cluster of unyieldingly savage images which define both him and the age. Gary Goude is a compelling example. When I wrote the introduction to his first chapbook, A CRUSHED ROTTING DOG published by Fine Human Wreckage Press back in 1995, I was drawn to both the honesty and the violence of his work. The cover of DOG reveals a snapshot of Goude drinking from what looks like a bottle of vodka or possibly gin. He’s sitting on a white bench in front of a house window which sports the sign, Beware of Dog. Continue reading todd moore | gary goude and that crushed rotting dawg→

tony moffeit | the outlaw revolution

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to have a revolution

that is an outlaw revolution, you must start with zero. zero in the bones. you must start with a new language. a language of mumbles and screams. a language of stutters and howls. a language of gutteral groans. a language that is not alien to the blues. a language that is not alien to the backstreets. a language that is not alien to the abandon of marginality. a language that is not alien to the separateness of the outsider, the renegade. the wolf howls at midnight. to have a revolution that is an outlaw revolution, you must abandon everything to create the fire in the blood. to have a revolution that is an outlaw revolution, you must seek the flame, the blaze, the pure burn of the artist, the engaged, the disengaged. engagement through disengagement. to have a revolution that is an outlaw revolution, the revolution must be reinvented every day by the individual. i heard someone say, there is nothing new. the revolution that is an outlaw revolution says, everything is new. it begins with a fire in the blood. it begins with a fire in the brain. it begins with a fire in the marrow. zero in the bones becomes fire.

when you don’t feel

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philomene long | stuart perkoff's last words

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Broctman’s Memorial Hospital
June 24, 1974
Stuart Z. Perkoff & Philomene Long

Philomene: (strokes Stuart’s forehead, brushing his eyebrows)
Stuart: They’re worth more after the death.
Philomene: What is the pain teaching you?
Stuart: To obey. What do you think happens at the dying?
Philomene: It looks like light. It feels like love.
Stuart: What do you think happens after they dying?
Philomene: It is all right, no matter what the condition.

Stuart asks Philomene to bring a tape recorder to the hospital saying he “had a poem in him.” The following is a transcript of his final hour. Continue reading philomene long | stuart perkoff's last words→

todd moore | the last good movie I made was a poem

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Writing a poem is like making a movie. If it’s a short poem it cascades down me the way water pours across a cliff face and then plunges down. It’s almost always one single dive toward the explosive unknown beginning Continue reading todd moore | the last good movie I made was a poem→