Poetry

Astor Place Station by Ron Kolm

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Astor Place Station

 

by Ron Kolm

 
 

"Astor Station, NYC", Copyright © 2014 Arthur Kaye

‘End of the Line’, Copyright © 2014 Arthur Kaye

 
 
Astor Place Station

 

I’d just dropped off

Some consignment stuff

At St. Mark’s Bookshop

And had fifteen minutes to make it

To Grand Central Terminal

Or I’d be late for work.

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Kate Crash — in conversation with John Wisniewski

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Kate Crash

(Kate Crash & The UFO Club)

in conversation with

John Wisniewski

 
 
YouTube Preview Image
 
 

“Musician, glam punk alien cross-dressing renegade
robot from the future, multi-media performance artist,
novelist, poet, director — Kate Crash is a punk
feminist with a DIY ethic. Whether it’s her music, her poetry,
her spoken word performance pieces, her fiction
or her documentary filmmaking — Crash’s glitter-speckled allegorical art
holds a unique mirror up to the present day decay and decadence of Los Angeles
in her search for her own personal authentic amid L.A’s streets of broken dreams
and almost realized celluloid fantasies.”

~Editor

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Recreating the President’s Brain from Zapruder’s Home Movie by Philip Quinn

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Recreating the President’s Brain

from Zapruder’s Home Movie

 

by

 

Philip Quinn

 

jfk-zapruder-film-still-feat
 

from Love’s field,

                       all roads lead to complete synaptic breakdown
 
at Main and Houston, sharp 90 degree turn for the worse

             one block north along Houston to Elm Street

 

the cheering crowds
traces of love, traces of American actor fallout
Hiroshima, “Ask not…”
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Mary — a film by Yarre Stooker

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Mary

a film by

Yarre Stooker

 
 

 
 

“Eddie Woods writes poetry the way he lives life, intensely. Experience informs his art, and vice versa. Passion, raw edges, nothing left out. Sex, love, politics…coupled with an unrelenting drive towards awareness, the need to understand what universal reality is all about. His poem “Mary” enters the listener’s ears like a wordbomb, exploding inside the mind, and reverberates down the spine like electroshocks from the brain’s pleasure centre.”

— Mark McCawley (from Mary by Eddie Woods, Urban Graffiti, March 8, 2012)

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Four Poems by Hal Sirowitz

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Four Poems

 

by Hal Sirowitz

 

JFK

 

The day President John F. Kennedy was shot, I was at Junior High School, sitting behind the girl I had a crush on. We heard the tapping of the loudspeaker, a signal that there was going to be an announcement. Then, the principal informed us the President was being taken to the emergency room in a hospital in Dallas. A few minutes later, the principal returned to tell us that Kennedy was pronounced dead, and we now had a new President of our country. He told us school was being cancelled, and we should go home to watch further results on television. For the first time in my life I felt I was a part of history. The Cuban Missile Crisis didn’t really count, because school wasn’t terminated. Mother didn’t want to watch it on television, because she got squeamish seeing all the blood. She said the blood-stains would be hard to remove from Jacqueline Kennedy’s clothes. She called up my father to tell him the news. His secretary said he was at a meeting. Mother said she wanted to talk to him anyway. The secretary got my father on the phone. He was annoyed at being interrupted. My mother told him the news. He said he would try to get home earlier than usual. But he had to fight traffic. She said he was lucky, he didn’t have to fight death, like the President.
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