Yoni, You Bet Mighty Right

Sabrina says this house looks like a book she read once, a book she once read and once she read it her kick-started super-forever. I think you were in it squarely dancing with some same old bruise who was always begging you to panic.  Did you, after all? Pulling out from her lips on the beach she felt me through for a moment in sight and proceeded to hoot and holler echoing the unit of life, maha-yogi, a western chemist friend and a writer who pretended to like to fight. Drink her, she decided.  In front of everyone I might like.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | A While Ago United

On the Road with the Beat Generation in Austin

The Beat Generation t-shirt sale has ended. My apologies, but I promise it will come again.

Thanks as always for shopping in the real, and for your continued support of Beat Poetics.

The more exposure to the beats the better off we all will be…

You can still order a custom Beat lit t-shirt (or other) on the Custom page, or pick one up at Book People at 6th and Lamar in Austin. They’re graciously featuring Beat Generation writers in the store this month to coincide with the On the Road with the Beats exhibit at the University of Texas at Austin / Harry Ransom Center.

The exhibit explores the lives and works of the artists who made up the “Beat Generation.”

Featuring more than 250 items drawn from across the Ransom Center’s collections, the exhibition will take visitors on a journey through the cities, landscapes and communities that fostered and shaped the most important works of the Beat Generation, from the early 1940s to the mid-1960s. The exhibition runs from Feb. 5 to Aug. 3 in the Ransom Center Galleries at The University of Texas at Austin.

Jack Kerouac’s scroll manuscript of On the Road, on loan from the collection of Jim Irsay, will be on display from March 7 through June 1. The first 48 feet of this 120-foot “page” (aka “the roll”) will be visible in the gallery. This visually stunning first draft has no paragraph or chapter breaks, and the characters are referred to by their real names.

Beat Generation T-Shirts at Book People

Update 05 March 2008

The Beat Generation t-shirt sale has ended. My apologies, but I promise it will come again.

Thanks as always for shopping in the real, and for your continued support of Beat Poetics.

The more exposure to the beats the better off we all will be...

You can still order a custom Beat lit t-shirt (or other) on the Custom page, or pick one up at Book People at 6th and Lamar in Austin. They're graciously featuring Beat Generation writers in the store this month to coincide with the On the Road with the Beats exhibit at the University of Texas at Austin / Harry Ransom Center.

The exhibit explores the lives and works of the artists who made up the "Beat Generation."

Featuring more than 250 items drawn from across the Ransom Center's collections, the exhibition will take visitors on a journey through the cities, landscapes and communities that fostered and shaped the most important works of the Beat Generation, from the early 1940s to the mid-1960s. The exhibition runs from Feb. 5 to Aug. 3 in the Ransom Center Galleries at The University of Texas at Austin.

Jack Kerouac's scroll manuscript of On the Road, on loan from the collection of Jim Irsay, will be on display from March 7 through June 1. The first 48 feet of this 120-foot "page" (aka "the roll") will be visible in the gallery. This visually stunning first draft has no paragraph or chapter breaks, and the characters are referred to by their real names.

 

 

Salvador Dali T-Shirt

Salvador Dali No.1 Green on Silver 100% cotton t-shirt New and ready to wear Size: Men's Small SOLD*This item can be made-to-order via the Custom Page for a limited time

Goldie Hawn onesie

Goldie Hawn Short Sleeve Onesie Black and gold on light blue Size: 3-6 In Stock:0 SOLD

What the world needs now?

What the world needs now? Donkey basketball and in-fighting yesterday afternoon and night in Texas.  Really now, this is what the world needs.  Change to pay the parking meter. It seems John McCain turned in early after an iced tea and chicken fried steak dinner. I burned the midnight oil second night in a row. How goes your team? (Best. Campaign. Ever.) Entranced Stage Left, Tejas

The Rolling Bridge

Heatherwick Studio's Rolling Bridge is located within a new residential, office and retail quarter set around part of the Grand Union Canal. Rather than a conventional opening bridge mechanism, consisting of a single rigid element that lifts to let boats pass, the Rolling Bridge gets out of the way by curling up until its two ends touch. While in its horizontal position, the bridge is a normal, inconspicuous steel and timber footbridge; fully open, it forms a circle on one bank of the water that bears little resemblance to its former self. Twelve metres long, the bridge is made in eight steel and timber sections, and is made to curl by hydraulic rams set into the handrail between each section. The Rolling Bridge won the 2005 British Structural Steel Award.

They’re all in the Garden with way-out maps

I. Temporary,

like a hotel room; it really is. Very few places or people ever truly feel like home. In the meantime, culture proceeds on the back of such a sensitive, youthful nation. Is anything certain then?

II. A hundred strong

strung-out high heels hurting:  “You can keep the cash.  It isn't worth it. " They’re not dumb. They’re not out of the loop. They have their own personal wishes and dreams, and particular things they like to eat (usually water and peas). People plead, “Stop singing, please! You’re ruining the music.” But they go on singing anyway, and in doing so give kickoff to new edges who turn on restless hubs truly in It. After word dances dance and ever do they daydream clock-less suspension bridges for words in mouths so deep the nipple tickles the tonsils and leaks. The alluring smell cresting the air is not the New Dumb or flicker glint of tanned legs bearing only crumbs and colorless sand. No, this is sort of fun, being in the New York Post in the time at hand getting free with all our lips hips and hands swooning, spiraling, becoming Grand.

What body will be?  What will the body be?  What be the body will? And is sogo.

III. Whilst smearing lipstick on strange statuettes

all in a row I had a feeling they could see me but I couldn’t see them. Like stars, their nipples and eyes. Ah, what thoughts in dancers reborn: We speak telepathically in photographs and undressed words, Alternate definitions and daydream dialects in a strange land America with stirring moles and ear handles farther back, down-field or interior where we are The Eye. It is so tragic and simultaneously so indescribably great that I am obliged to stop now and then and laugh in Its face.

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Sagacity 08 

Toast

I began painting her weightless spine and missing enzymes.

There were slower moments going which hushed the bulletproof wall;

Where we sat a test of freedom, a race for all to swallow.

Renaissance, breathe -

A vibrant fit:

Recall ohm, sympathetic ink and dugout floodlight;

Recall manifold, up the dose golden age dawn and sunrise, the taste of dna;

Recall agape love-feast, each day a plethora of stings,

Vanishing, reappearing wings - a chorus, high-rise rooftop;

The bone, the rah, sweaty stargazer:

Her moles her skin her organs and ballads in the bones;

Her sounds when eyelash tickles vagina

(Pore wall becomes toast).

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | A While Ago 

I began painting her weightless spine and missing enzymes. There were slower moments going which hushed the bulletproof wall; Where we sat a test of freedom, a race for all to swallow. Renaissance, breathe - A vibrant fit: Recall ohm, sympathetic ink and dugout floodlight; Recall manifold, up the dose golden age dawn and sunrise, the taste of dna; Recall agape love-feast, each day a plethora of stings, Vanishing, reappearing wings - a chorus, high-rise rooftop; The bone, the rah, sweaty stargazer: Her moles her skin her organs and ballads in the bones; Her sounds when eyelash tickles vagina (Pore wall becomes toast).

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | A While Ago 

Super Mu and the Infant Heartbeat

(Turn signals. Stay awake.)

The explorer came to overstand the rum-rum rabbit and instinct

Typing through smoke.

Wearing robe, tiara and flame, he was in high spirits ogling cherubs and vermin, counting decorated toes and torsos.

Just sitting and watching that fox in faux fur made his heart Swiss;

She in her soft shell sauntered and tied all the grass in knots.

The explorer found so many tongues stuck to the bait – hook, line and sinker.

His milky palms gave hundred dollar bills to hypnotists at the vein parade.

Of course, even the adventure could become routine; the process was apparent far and wide.

Brand names like Singer; and do you lead or leave an infant

Heartbeat? Again, of course, that’s exactly what I thought.

At IPSO renegotiation he saw hot stopwatch and dozens of green granny apples trapped under ice-fishing holes;

all them he met (and not one disease caught).

Neo-Mu. Super-Mu. Knew nothing.

“Holder-Onners!” he cried out. “I’m new; now you’re here at the same time…I think it was…I think I had a crush on your title, which was ‘Any Ony Asterisk Memos.’ That put me to bed! And turned on by whom?”

He had to contend with tigers, symbols and cues.

He had to imagine the prison that set him free.

He had to discern the fakes from the soul-bodies.

He had to wear Her some nights,so easily a heartbeat/skin symphony.

He had to await the next interruption, physical function: blow.

He had to perfect the quietude of war and shoulders in old mirrors.

He had to follow the sirens of the crunching leaves.

He had to look down the dress and drive for hours.

H e h a d t o h e a r H e r.

He had to become syllables and tones, molecular pulses, urgent.

He had to enamor the metro coast.

He had to, on some days, camouflage his meat.

He had to collect rug burns and fragrant forward-looking isms.

He had to breathe.

* Other physical dangers: snakes, extreme cold, lack of food, noise, and crowding; extreme heat.

* And he must’ve dealt with schedules, traffic, man-to-man defense, and other stressful situations.

* He is hooked to an apparatus that is ready to take off.

* The pilot remains while technicians try to discover the purpose of the big wheel womb.

* “She prob’ly, she may have a purpose.”

* “We may suppose that the big wheel womb also receives some sort of stimulation from this.”

* “What next?”

* “Soon, even a smile may become a stimulating effect; perhaps even a highly significant one.”

Chris Weige | TX | A While Ago 

 

(Turn signals. Stay awake.) The explorer came to overstand the rum-rum rabbit and instinct Typing through smoke. Wearing robe, tiara and flame, he was in high spirits ogling cherubs and vermin, counting decorated toes and torsos. Just sitting and watching that fox in faux fur made his heart Swiss; She in her soft shell sauntered and tied all the grass in knots. The explorer found so many tongues stuck to the bait – hook, line and sinker. His milky palms gave hundred dollar bills to hypnotists at the vein parade. Of course, even the adventure could become routine; the process was apparent far and wide. Brand names like Singer; and do you lead or leave an infant Heartbeat? Again, of course, that’s exactly what I thought. At IPSO renegotiation he saw hot stopwatch and dozens of green granny apples trapped under ice-fishing holes; all them he met (and not one disease caught). Neo-Mu. Super-Mu. Knew nothing. “Holder-Onners!” he cried out. “I’m new; now you’re here at the same time…I think it was…I think I had a crush on your title, which was ‘Any Ony Asterisk Memos.’ That put me to bed! And turned on by whom?” He had to contend with tigers, symbols and cues. He had to imagine the prison that set him free. He had to discern the fakes from the soul-bodies. He had to wear Her some nights,so easily a heartbeat/skin symphony. He had to await the next interruption, physical function: blow. He had to perfect the quietude of war and shoulders in old mirrors. He had to follow the sirens of the crunching leaves. He had to look down the dress and drive for hours. H e h a d t o h e a r H e r. He had to become syllables and tones, molecular pulses, urgent. He had to enamor the metro coast. He had to, on some days, camouflage his meat. He had to collect rug burns and fragrant forward-looking isms. He had to breathe. * Other physical dangers: snakes, extreme cold, lack of food, noise, and crowding; extreme heat. * And he must’ve dealt with schedules, traffic, man-to-man defense, and other stressful situations. * He is hooked to an apparatus that is ready to take off. * The pilot remains while technicians try to discover the purpose of the big wheel womb. * “She prob’ly, she may have a purpose.” * “We may suppose that the big wheel womb also receives some sort of stimulation from this.” * “What next?” * “Soon, even a smile may become a stimulating effect; perhaps even a highly significant one.”