max carmichael: arts portfolio


eohippus all contents copyright 2007 max carmichael		why eohippus? bio contact

arts portfolio: visual arts music writing events design

writing: poetry		back next

They Laid Down They laid down on the sand and became boards They sat in trees and drew rain For thousands of years they did nothing but evolve The women had hooks that projected from their shoulders and kept getting stuck on clouds The men ate big seeds and farted 'til they nearly died. Slowly in their stomachs grew worms that made them laugh That made them go without pleasure They stood around in a big circle and sang songs from the radio, clapping hands. They suddenly looked very old, then very young, then like sexual organs When they could not sleep But only count the stars, starting again and again, from one to ten I cried, I turned off the set and got into bed with her, in pieces like a junk yard 4-3-82 I am probably just another crazy, I have a hold of something fast in the dark Like snow sun rages the strata of the bay light falling I am falling, heavy heart, envy calling, noh time Jet rising briefly in a picture between 2 walls; bird follows stained yellow-white fresh from a broken egg I am from an egg gentle as a wasp crossing a great river in warm air of summer night, feeling the air in front of me & behind flying like a cross burning like an immediate past, full of verses worms and tongues, all like tongues experimenting on the floor.	Punk Poetry 1980-present Two years after graduate school, after my mind had been blown by a trek through Central America, a year as a craft apprentice in a music shop, and a year at the high-art hothouse of CalArts, I reluctantly got an engineering job in the San Francisco area. I was supposed to be writing mechanical specifications to military standards, but I spent a lot of my time scribbling poems and songs on odd scraps of note paper, fueled by espresso and the raw energy of late nights at punk clubs and art spaces. It was the aftermath of Three Mile Island and the dawn of the repressive Reagan era, and the most vital subculture in the city consisted of overeducated bohemians in their twenties with no hope of financial success or security. There were thousands of us, both idealistic and cynical. We met in dozens of punk clubs, after hours clubs, and underground arts venues like Target Video, Jet Wave, and the ARE Gallery, writing and reading zines like Damage and postering the whole city with images of violence and whimsy. The unique twist in my poetry was the use of images from natural science as well as technology. I don't write much poetry any more, but when I do (as in "I AM A REGENT!"), it's in exactly the same vein.	As the Hours Creep As the hours creep outward into regions which I create deliberately as a slow hand draws venetian blinds shut across the window of my mind as small animals trace merry-go-round patterns of light behind a screen on which a man and a woman are fucking in formal Chinese silence as squad cars rip the curtains of night / their limbs as white as bones as brittle as chalk which turn into stars when they break, piercing our eyes as we lie on the beach in a blanket of unclean foam... The strands of her hair were caught in my food. Sheathed in clear plastic she walked through the polished metal door of my starship. I could not look up from the controls. Calibration did not diminish the explosion of her eyes. And moving like the burning sea lamps of a video retina the torrid flowers of her huge nipples came closer, closer Her fears were like octopi living in her cunt; my dick would prod them and excite them and I could feel them grip it and twist it ruthlessly back and forth. I loved this and at the same time knew I was doomed. I AM A REGENT! his sex was rarely known only in sleep did she see him falling into a void where all things passed away this could not be a dream this could only be the real thing the moisture of her lips the short hairs of his belly fabulous! i am a regent! my head is colored! seventeen times he straddled me, beating me senseless and only then did I relent, and gave her my money driving away I felt like a beast i shook my heavy head and gold coins fell off under the street freshly painted pipes reached in all directions blue, green, red, yellow they had no end and no beginning in darkness they sang, proud of their colors carrying a rich mix of bacteria and parasites the knock is on the door wait one minute, i said i took my sword in hand and shut down the lights under my feet a volcano erupted and blew me into the sky from up there i could see all their plans now it is up to you! i am a regent!