« Posts tagged Love

A Muffled Beep Beside Me

Is the title of a poem that debuted in print along with the editorial brilliance [compliment directed towards the team with whom I had the good fortune of working, BTW] in Giuseppina magazine 21 : The Acceptance Issue.

And not that you asked . . . but yes : In my continued assault against the expected, this piece was composed in a form not open but rather fixed, or — despite how deliciously perverse I consider usage of the term, a myriad of connotations attached to it as stead-fast as a spiked cilice to the inner thigh of an Opus Deistrict.

By no means is it my intention to imply that free verse is inferior, but rather familiar. Hence, exploring the paradoxical freedoms of composing within a limited; i.e., formal poetic structure . . . namely, one of my own creation? Oftentimes the experience is nothing short of numinous.

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numinous (adj.) : describing an experience that makes one fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted — the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired

Rubaiyat For Rocky

Repeat of the screen grab, except with linkage in working order : “Rubaiyat For Rocky” is from the book Cottonmouth Kisses. Thanks to Beauty Nursed On Darkness for the spiffy lay-out / introduction to the Tumblrsphere.

Apologies for the didactic, but simply “For Those Whom” . . . [blah blah blah]

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Because We Ain’t Simple And Love Ain’t Simple


next morning over grits and aspirin
i remembered          jack oh shit honey
i can’t believe i fuckin did that
convulsive recall cut through whiskey obscurity
like the knife
my knife in my hand and jack grinnin it off       just us
friday night drunk again except i was pitbull furied
about a blank spot
i was holdin’ up steel to my lover
i was serious
what do you mean he asked me at the table
so i had to say before god and my coffee
i threatened to cut you last night didn’t i man
more sorries and panicky lovetalk started runnin out of me
until the grin came back        he said oh
that’s right    i’d forgotten all about it      he held that little smile
so long i wanted to scream motherfucker but  i started cryin
he’d been as loaded as me        didn’t know what issue
brought together me and him and the knife and something mad
enough to shank eight years of us
somethin that backed down when he just said
you know sparrow if i felt like it
i could get really pissed of about this            the movie stopped
there for both of us
he was holdin me while i came apart again
me and him know each other clear
to the marrowbones and black mirrors by now
me and him go on anyway
eight years or twenty thousand
sparrow and jack is the road we’re goin down
without a simple love poem in sight
because we ain’t simple and
love ain’t simple
love has vicious motherfucker midnights curled up waitin in it
like when we were naked makin war words
about how if
ordinary common people are shit and i hate everyone
i must hate him too
right then i did but he was the one
who said i hate you first and got up to leave
i gave him my back like the finger      told him thanks
for tellin me one piece of truth tonight anyway
and i would have said more but he kicked me off the bed
before i could and if love was somethin simple
it would have busted like a wine bottle right there
it took us two days to cry about it together
but that man has hands that make me forget sometimes
how much i hate my body
that man can keep tellin’ me after the first thousand
times i told him that was a
goddamn lie
that man is as smart as me and too weird to ever be boring
with his head full of politics and priestcraft and philosophical
he can tell me about because i’ve got em too
me and him know each other all right
it’s our damnation to
it’s our damnation to know that hate walks beside love
like a shadow that has teeth
it’s our damnation each to live in the other’s
valley of flames
because our demons are crazy drunk
on love for each other
the same way we are
two freaks in a mean god’s sweaty fist
it’s our damnation practiced to perfection
we’ve done it for years
we’ve done it for lifetimes and some of ‘em ended like this
could have
but we keep comin’ back
we’ve got stuff that ruins us for anyone else
we need each other’s weirdness and rage like dope
it ain’t simple           it’s got thorns
it’s got roots that wrap around bones and boulders
all the way to the heart of the earth
sparrow and jack is the road we’re goin’ down
together in this poem
this car with the back seat full of monsters
that were always driving drunk
the hit of murder keeps us awake for the ride
sparrow and jack it the road that starts and ends
in the worlds we have where the other one is the only man alive
and those are worlds
big enough for all the pain we throw around
because we’re men and we can’t help it
all we can do is wrap our arms around love
even and especially when it smells like shit and looks like
the black sponge soaked in blood at
the center of trust’s shattered bones
and around each other after the storms die down

—Sparrow 13 Laughingwand

from Hell Soup: The Collected Writings [ Manic D ]

*Please note: some line breaks “auto-corrected” by WordPress.
[ Apologies, Apologies ]

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Clint in the ‘Celebrity Lifestyle’ Issue of Wedding Dresses Magazine

Fall 2008

And true, true : Not a publication in which I imagined I’d ever appear — which made seeing it among the grocery shelve glossies that much more sick and fantastic . . .

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Perrette’s Syndrome (or: “Pauley P, How I Adore Thee…”)

O.K., scratch that Velveeta-laden alternate title, please.&.thanks…

One of my favorite people on the planet just celebrated a birthday, and–being the technologically-challenged Southerner (euphemism? slow) that I am–there’s other news-worthy blogature about her to be shared that’s embarrassingly long overdue…

Rewinding back to St. Valentine’s Day, 2009

Here’s an image Brian Gordon captured

of the gorgeous Pauley Perrette and her father:

The occasion? A wedding. A commitment ceremony.

In the words of this actress best known for playing the character Abby Sciutto on NCIS,
it was “A Celebration of Love.”

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“To Push Away Or Clutch” — Spoken Word by Clint Catalyst


No, I don’t hit every line in the prose-poem verbatim.

Yes, I wrote it. It’s ancient history, actually…but I chose the piece as a ‘sampling of my wares’–so to speak–because it’s self-contained and just under the 10 minute mark.

BACKGROUND INFO: This performance was filmed on the day that basically determined whether or not I’d have a sample of my art hanging in “>The Andy Warhol Museum. By “hanging,” I mean via 50 inch flat-screen monitor complete with bitchen sound system, by which with my monologue screened on endless repeat. [The experience of entering the room on opening night and hearing my far-from-soothing voice ricochet around the institution’s pristine white walls? Surreal. Sublime . . . and ______________ ]

That Once-In-A-Lifetime pressure paired with 5 1/2 single-spaced pages of text to memorize?

I’m just glad I pulled it off…
Though of course, I’m exponentially more grateful to Glenn Kaino, who’s the reason my work and I were even featured in the reknown Pittsburgh museum. Short of the long: including me as one his “Uberstars” in Transformer: The Work Of Glenn Kaino an 8-year retrospective of his sculpture/photography.

Catalottalisp was “served, and proper” from May 3 – August 31st, 2008, thanks to Mr. kaino and the curators’ hospitality.

This clip would not exist without the camera skills of Nhat Nguyen and editing prowess of Diego Garza.


Wardrobe by Jared Gold

Hair cut and color by Luis Payne of Hairroin Salon

† † †

Hairroin Salon, Hollywood’s white-hot epicenter of cool, is owned and run by scissormeister Janine Jarman.

† † †

For the image on exhibit, however?

Hair styling/color by Irene Urias of Hairroin;
make-up by Stacey Hummell.

(Watch for the “end result” of Kaino’s portrait of Clint, as taken by Polaroid Big Shot

in the compendium

The Work of Glenn Kaino: Communicating Rooks,

scheduled for an June 2009 release through the premier art publishing house, Hatje Cantz:


Effing PROPS, all y’all!

x o x

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