Tandem
A prose poem. I never doubted for a minute how much my father loved me, but it took me a long time to understand what that entailed.
Strange to have this as one of the few real lessons my father taught me. Not that I haven’t learned, and don’t still learn, from his example: his earnestness, his enduring patience, his quiet devotion to my mother. But he gave me actual instructions as we launched our canoe from a muddy, shallow bulge into an inlet off Green Bay — to keep calm when the lake water rises around me, to know that the canoe is designed not to sink, even full of water, even upside down. Perhaps he was banking on my capacity to apply this lesson as I got older, the way high-school football prepares you to be a team player as an adult. Here the wisdom was that cooler heads prevail, that sudden crises can be conquered, that it’s good to know what is likely to happen next.
But I was only ten. There’s so much I missed. Like how he watched me from the bow, the canvas life jacket cradling my neck as he dipped his paddle first to one side, then the other, to keep us on course back to the house. How he waited for a sign, perhaps my fingers dragging briefly in the lake, that I had let my attention drift from his warning about what I was headed toward. And then his mustering his courage, his freckled hands grabbing the canoe’s sides, preparing to dump us both sputtering into the olive water. And his bracing himself to enter with me the depths of my coming misfortune.
Originally published in The Sun
The Renewable Sonnets of William Shakespeare (Vols. 1 & 2)
This is my first foray into electronic poetry that uses relatively large a data set, the complete Sonnets of William Shakespeare.
This project seeks to stir into a single plane all of Shakespeare's 154 sonnets.
I used Python to prepare and properly format the poetic content for the javascript engines.
Because different poems are being stirred together--as many as 14 at once--it is impossible to preserve the ABAB rhyme scheme of the originals. This results in a (vast) collection of blank verse sonnets: 14 lines of unrhymed iambic pentameter.
There are 154 to the 14th power possible combinations in this collection. So there's that.
The rendered screenshots will be slightly blurry. It pleases me that the rendering is clearly a degraded duplicate, more permanent but not as crisp as the ephemeral original.
Originally published at the New River: A Journal of Digital Art and Literature
The Deep Sleepers (2016 - present)
Too soon to know the sublime heights we’ll achieve, but it’s nice to be in a band that keeps me on my toes.
Caleb Stanislaw (guitars, vox)
Denver Williams (guitars, vox)
Ashlyn Shanafelt (drums, formerly) | Zach Mayo (drums, currently)
Curt Rode (bass, vox)
Awoken (C. Stanislaw)
Snake & Hound (C. Stanislaw)
.
Not Like This. Not Alone.
Not Like This. Not Alone.
He’d rather embrace this lonely disappointment
As others do, long married, wet from a shower,
Squeezing behind his wife at the basin
Almost audibly as if sealed in laminate.
There’s dignity in that—a bathroom steaming,
A naked woman flossing, his body beaded,
Glistening and framed in the doorway.
He would have that special someone to blame,
Hate for a time, and forgive, as she would him
When her own sadness sweetened and turned clear.
Then, he’d write off the expense as time spent,
Admit that there’s pity behind affection,
And hear the kisses at his temple murmur,
We tried. We’re trying. Sweetheart, this is it.
Originally published in the Los Angeles Review
The Rob Russell Years (1994-1997)
The Rent Boys (1994-1995)
Rob Russell (guitars, vox)
Richard Sewell (drums)
Curt Rode (bass)
The Mystery Dates (1995-1997)
Rob Russell (guitars, vox)
Robert Alfonso (guitars, vox)
Richard Sewell (drums)
Curt Rode (bass)
“Walk with God” (Rob Russell)
“Tom Paine’s Blues” (Robert Alfonso)
Town Criers (1997-1999)
Town Criers (1997-1999)
A great friendship emerged in this band. Solid songs in my view. Recording background vocals for one song, I had the experience of singing with power and on pitch from my diaphram instead of my throat. It delighted me to no end. Sadly, though I’m probably singing better in other ways, I’m back to making sounds from my throat.
“In Your Fashion” (Mark Jackson)
Mark Jackson (guitars, vox)
Ron Michaelson (guitars, vox)
Bryan Scyphers (drums)
Curt Rode (bass, vox)
Collateral Glory
Another riff on the stir fry form, this time including audio recordings of each of the 3 poems layered together. Many thanks to Jacob Brown, Joe Schiller, Chantel L. Carlson, and Kayla Sparks for helping piece it all together.
Not the New American Hope
Not the New American Hope
An example of textual sculpture. The image was taken with the iPhone X camera’s “Stage Light” feature. The text was added in Photoshop.
The inspiration for the sculpture was a crossing of two streams of thought: 1) at 52, I’ve fallen well out of the hopeful sentiment “children are our future,” and 2) I realize my body is coming to an end as a site of political power and privilege.
