Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
THE FASTEST GUN IN THE WEST for todd moore you were the bone wind that slid inside the hand that slapped the holster faster than anyone else you were the one for whom the poem was a gun whose words Continue reading The Fastest Gun In The West by Tony Moffeit
Born To Be Blue by Tony Moffeit Genre: Poetry, Trade Paper, 6X9. Publisher: Lummox Press (PO Box 5301 San Pedro, CA 90733-5301) | www.lummoxpress.com | ISBN: 978-1-929878-85-7 | Pages:100 | Publishing Date: Oct. 2011 | $15 + shipping I’ve known Continue reading tony moffeit | born to be blue
THE LANGUAGE OF DEATH todd moore died friday, march 12, and after recovering from the devastation of losing a close friend to a sudden death, i couldn’t help but realize the irony of his death at a time when he Continue reading tony moffeit | the language of death
it is the first day of 2010 and i ask myself what is the greatest measure of one’s worth. and i answer myself that it is one’s own madness of love with life. as one is constantly madly in love Continue reading tony moffeit | it is the first day of 2010
Friedrich Nietzsche | Drawing by Hans Olde when i think of outlaw i think of a change in consciousness. a new level of consciousness. the first outlaws, to me, were those who initiated a change in thinking, a change in Continue reading tony moffeit | outlaw consciousness
i read todd moore’s latest dillinger poem, meditations on a machine gun, just written and so new that it has not even been submitted, and i realize why he reaches another level of intensity, another level of obsessive fever, another Continue reading tony moffeit | scorching the darkness: the channeling of dillinger
you run across something that is on another level. something that seems to spring from a barren landscape. something that turns the world upside down. something that seems to be created out of the void. it’s the fire in the blood of the poet. it is total body in which the voice is searched out and found. a howl. a moan. a groan. a shout. a song. and even though the body may crumble it revives and is strong. from the voice. from the fire in the voice. from the fire in the song. and you find it is time to burn. it’s about an absolute obsession to reach a higher level of intensity in one’s art. at the same time there is an effortlessness, as if the artist were born for it, as if the artist were born to it. it is both obsessive passion and effortlessness. it’s about a newfound reality. it’s about reaching a new state of consciousness. it’s about being able to create a new energy.
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.
