September 10-16, 2012: Craig Kurtz and Sy Roth

week of September 10-16, 2012

Craig Kurtz and Sy Roth

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Craig Kurtz

Bio (auto)

Craig Kurtz, age 53, Asperger’s, lives at Twin Oaks Intentional Community (Louisa, VA.). Recorded The Philosophic Collage EP in 1981, now in reissue. Staff writer 10 years for Perfect Sound Forever. Other publications include Monthly Review, Scram, Popmatters and Mad Swirl.

The following work is Copyright © 2012, and owned by Craig Kurtz and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Remember those crazy

days. High metabolism days.
Soldering nonsense into white
noise, up all night, making
rorschach clusters. Caffeinated
like crazy.

Remember those vertigo days.
Package of plasma dubbed onto
stereopticon cathexis. Jungian.
Bohemian. Color xeroxed
like crazy.

Remember those synthesized
days. 1950’s typewriter
flanging blackouts into pousse
cafés. Tickertaping
like crazy.

Remember those poetry astronaut
days. Cassettes w/ imbricated
blueprints twisted into super 8
octaves. Silk screening the id
like crazy.

Remember braille cootie-
catcher days. Orgone
accumulators & language
games still chording
like crazy.



Sy Roth
sydad@hotmail.com

Bio (auto)

Sy Roth (Brookhaven Township, Long Island, New York) is a retired school administrator and has finally found the sounds of silence and the time to think whole thoughts. This has led him to find words and the ability to shape them. He has published in Visceral Uterus, Amulet, BlogNostics, Every Day Poets, Barefoot Review, Haggard and Halloo, Misfits Miscellany and The Eloquent Atheist. Recently, he won a poetry contest sponsored by Newsday.

The following work is Copyright © 2012, and owned by Sy Roth and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Sea Urchin’s Abode

Chaz removes the dishes and objet d’art wrapped in old newsprint
tosses the boxes aside like spent tubes of toothpaste
forming a pyramid in the middle of his living room.
Later he stacks them neatly
untenanted teenagers smoking joints in an alleyway.

They rest where he discarded them,
in a niche, on the sidewalk, beside the worn steps of his Brownstone
soldiers waiting to be deployed, disposed or recycled.
Neatly stacked bundles wrapped in white string
abandoned monument of those who reside between solid walls,
those who live warmly above,
in their orderly rooms among their cherished objects.

And he shuffles by, down below,
sea urchin pushing his shopping cart
laden with crammed plastic bags, his city catchalls.
He searches the sidewalks and alleyways—
droll, malodorous man–
sees in it a city
in the cardboard, an ephemeral home
for his hodge-podge of collectibles.