TWO diverged in a sorry long I looked down bent in the undergrowth; the other perhaps the better was wanted Though worn both equally lay trodden the first knowing I doubted with a sigh Somewhere Two diverged and one difference.
Laura LeHew, 2014
Sculpted work:
The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost
Shall I compare thee to Laura Ashley?
House of Flora lovely and Mad Carpentier.
Breitling do shake the Burberry of May,
And Tiffany hath all too Karen Kane.
Sometime Sealup the eye of Philipp Plein,
And often is his gold Bulgari dimmed;
And every fair Tom Ford sometime declines,
By chance, or Cartier’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy Hussein Chalayan shall not fade,
Nor Karl Lagerfeld that fair thou ow’st,
Nor Vivienne Westwood wand’rest in his shade,
When in Patek Philippe to Time thou grow’st.
So long as Anna Sui, or eyes can see,
So long St. John, and D & G to thee.
CT, 2014
Remixed works:
Sonnet 18, by William Shakespeare
The names of various luxury brands
In gyres fluttering,
In the falcon by falconers of empty things,
Shaken from the centre that lay itself,
From all the anarchy hitherto broken, from the worlds, tides, ceremonies,
Which too empty I was thinking to sit my innocence,
Constant to me now anarchy not yet broken, constant to me that my best,
That the best of the conviction I sit for arises in the worst,
Here by myself away from the revelation of the hand,
letting fall and drawn back here by comings inhuman,
No longer veritable, (for in these medleyed words I can drool as I would not call elsewhere,)
Grinding upon me the image that does not go itself, yet used to be all the Spiritus Mundi,
Striving to make no sights today but those of gasping waste,
Scouring them along that everhooded desert,
Threatening hence sands of tragicgestured shape,
Body this dark colored head in my sunken man,
I blow for all who need or have needed clear gaze,
To lay the shadows of my birds and darkness,
To wonder the centuries of sleep.
An Oulipian Chimera
by Esther Greenleaf Murer, 2014
Remixed works:
Calamus (In paths untrodden) by Walt Whitman
The Second Coming by W B Yeats (Nouns)
Channel Firing by Thomas Hardy (Verbs)
The Idea of Order at Key West by Wallace Stevens (Adjectives)
My life closed twice before its close
My life closed twice before its close
Because I could not stop for death
Because I could not stop for death
I closed not twice could my death stop
Because before its close for life
The grass divides as with a comb
The grass divides as with a comb
The brain is wider than the sky
The brain is wider than the sky
The sky divides the brain as is
than with the comb a wider grass
I taste a liquor never brewed
I taste a liquor never brewed
Tell all the truth but tell it slant
Tell all the truth but tell it slant
Never tell a truth I taste it
but tell all the slantbrewed liquor
Never comb the brewed brain twice
because it closed as for the grass
I could not liquor all my death
before its slant divides a stop
but tell the sky I close with a life
the truth is wider than a taste
Esther Greenleaf Murer, 2014
Remixed works:
Sundry lines from Emily Dickinson
A man holding a razor.
A man on a chair smoking.
A man shitting.
All quite indifferent
to one another’s
presence or plight.
As you walk through
room after room
it becomes clear
that only grimaces remain,
that the worst
has happened,
that you can live
with the worst.
A man sits naked
with torn newspaper
around his feet.
A man reclines in a vest
on a stained red couch.
The bandages and the screams
are already in place.
I’ve always hoped
in a sense to be able
to paint the mouth
like Monet painted a sunset.
Man is an unhappy ape.
But if he knows it, he isn’t.
Howie Good, 2014
Remixed work:
Francis Bacon and Walt Disney by John Berger
Mark Staniforth, 2014
Sculpted work:
Life on the Mississippi, by Mark Twain
in the on the f sunk, a s lies, whose d wrinkle lip, of cold co and, Tell that sculp l those pas s re ich yet vive, these li ess hand that mo he heart th the pe pear
CT, 2014
Sculpted work:
Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I have had to learn the feminine things
last. Which has caused problems.
Even in the kitchen I was poor, at cooking beef, or to wash
until sparkling the coffee cups.
The kitchen will not, although perhaps eventually, be my place
But even my place, in it, I stood estranged
from that which was most familiar. My wombs delay
not content with mans argument
to such postponement
argued with nature of
obedience,
that we are all bodies
made of bones
that we grow up together
yet the woman
is not easily
known
She could be, though the politeness (the cupcakes)
I note in others,
makes more friends
than my own burnt toast. The acceptance
they submit to daily
of the worlds
arrogance
and who encourage
as I am witness
though I have tried
I have made dialogues
have discussed my inadequacies,
Have coughed in a silent room, offered
what freedom
patriarkhia allows
But the home?
This, I can not have been given,
a life, love, and from man
the world.
Dishcloths,
But standing here
I look out as a wind
prunes the roses, plucking
“he loves me not”
red petals
I know the cupboards
for the towels, how to fold them,
which to use. But the family
you want to grow in me,
for their rejection, of me
And my circumstance
is neither diminished
nor increased,
by the eradication
2
It is undone business
I speak of, this morning
with the dishes
piling high
in the sink
Lauren Dye, 2014
Remixed works:
Maximus, to himself, by Charles Olson
Chores a housewife is expected to perform
and her attitude towards her position in society
I have a dream from an antique land
that rolls: We hold these truths to be of stone
friends in the desert. That all men, on the sand,
Half sunk, are free. We cannot walk alone
And have a dream, and sneer of old command,
Let us not wallow well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these wrongful deeds,
the majestic heights, and the heart that fed
but live out the true meaning of its creed:
“My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of kings,
Look on my mountainside, let freedom ring!”
Nothing but pride remains. I have a dream
from that colossal quest will realize freedom,
the lone righteousness like a mighty stream.
CT, 2014
Remixed works:
Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I Have a Dream speech, by Martin Luther King
turning in
the falconer;
Things cannot hold;
anarchy is
everywhere
innocence is drowned;
The best lack
intensity.
Surely revelation
Surely Second Coming is
Hardly those words
When image out of
sight: a waste
of a man,
the sun
moving slow
shadows of the birds
I know
centuries of sleep
Were nightmare by a
beast at last
born
CT, 2014
Sculpted work:
The Second Coming, by W.B Yeats