Category Archives: Writing

Fuge / Fugue

Dedicated to Paul Celan Today, I happened to come across a very questionable English translation of Paul Celan’s Todesfuge (Death Fugue), and this inspired me to attempt a black musical fugue in painting. Heute stolperte ich im Internet über eine … Continue reading

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Stairlets & Boards

Dedicated to the Düsseldorf Art Academy So I says to myself How about slurping an ale and inhaling a lil bit of art, something with stairlets & boards & other climbing aids – Johannes Beilharz A translation of Treppchen & … Continue reading

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The beloved neighbors haiku

Oops, they’re doing it again – vacuum at high blast, eleven p.m. – Johannes Beilharz (© 2013) Based on last night’s true story. How irritating the whine of a vacuum cleaner can be when you’re trying to sleep…

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Edward Dorn: A for Ism

A for Ism A poet’s occupation is to compose poetry The writing of it is everywhere – Edward Dorn (From Hello, La Jolla, Wingbow Press, 1978) This statement by my old teacher struck me as as relevant and true as … Continue reading

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At home

Ludovico Einaudi, Dietro Casa / Nuvole Bianche The white clouds of Einaudi’s piano notes are drifting by in this house, in this darkish room It’s past noon, time to get up in search of food even though I don’t feel … Continue reading

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Eating cake with Mrs. Jones

So today, January 2nd, Mrs. Jones shows up with a bright smile on her very pink lips, and I ask her in. “Can I offer you some cake, Mrs. Jones?” “Do call me Ethel. How long have we been neighbors?” … Continue reading

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That place haiku

That place is a tile, between yellow and brown, on it my sandal’d foot. – Johannes Beilharz (© 2012) Notes In today’s American Life in Poetry, column 403, Ted Kooser wrote, “Among the most ancient uses for language are descriptions … Continue reading

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Virginia Woolf and Broken Pipe

One end of Via Woolf in Rome Via Woolf and Via Joyce are the two streets named after foreign writers in an area otherwise all Italian: Cesare Pavese, Ignazio Silone, Salvatore Quasimodo, Carlo Levi, Elsa Morante, etc.

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Morning Digestion

Read Bukowski for breakfast, including that one with the radio he threw out the window every time he got drunk, always breaking the window. Then he added something about watching a scantily clad neighbor digging in her garden patch just … Continue reading

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Sidecare 13 Addendum

(in response to some things she’s thrown at me) “You elevate me, you really do most days. I’ll call you an elevator.” “You’ve called me ambiguous because your color system is black or white and I am somewhere in between.” … Continue reading

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