when learning about arabic art...do as the arabs do. erotic poetry 101

Evangelicle take me home tonight.

Islam will spread like my legs.

Enter, like Europe. Take over Spain.

Rip the embilical chord. Snake in the grass.

Peace to thee. Thank you come again.

Gotta Dance

The best moment

things i want

these stupid things

The dry dry West.

creative writing by Miroslav Holub

On the express train to Vienna

she writes in her diary

notes about Rome and Naples.

Ink marks like parthenogenetic aphids, 

pages like blood smears

of homing pigeons.

She is alone, gray, reconciled,

a Leda long after the swan;s departure,

Odysseus retired at Lotophagitis.

Back home, in Maryland,

the notebook will be interred

in the archetypal drawer,

among the yellowed love letter, 

among the infant curls,

among the dried adult flowers,

near the cushion where the castrated cat dreams

while Mahler's forever forever forever

chokes in the green wallpaper.

It is her message to imagined little sons; 

it is her membership in the club

of Swifts, Goethes, Rimbauds, Horatiuses and 

deathwatch beetles.

It is her monument outlasting bronze,

five-dimensional reality, the last engraving

of primeval man on reindeer bone,

the last drop

of the fluid soul

before evaporation. 

squid.

bad scans

these are bad scans of a few from my latest abstraction project.

fill in the lines.

a saturday night well spent. 

and the answer is superman.

pages of the book.

never thought of that.