“Ballets” by Richard Kostelanetz

Ballets

An artist admiring intently, for days without sleep, a painting of the Holy Family eventually identifies himself with Christ on the cross.

In one of his opium dreams, the sleeping choreographer meets an angel who introduces him to other dancers already resident in ballet heaven.To initiate him into their different world, the other dancers imitate poorly his signature moves.

Two children of quarreling farmers meet at school and fall in love, necessarily leaving their homes, though underage. They secretly board a barge heading downstream, hiding beneath sacks of grain harvested from their families’ farms. When it sinks, they die.

The spook of a murdered woman returns to dance with her husband, who, in honor of the occasion, suddenly appears twenty years younger.

When a pilot who dies in an ocean crash returns to his fiancee as a ghost, she agrees to follow him to his submarine cave, where they are wed. Consummation becomes impossible, given their inhabiting different realms, until she too becomes a ghost and an infant is born.

Thanks to effects possible with videotape, we see on the small screen a man, obviously exhausted, continually climbing upwards to heaven and repeatedly passing a sign marked only with an infinity symbol.

Individual entries on Richard Kostelanetz’s work in several fields appear in various editions of Readers Guide to Twentieth-Century Writers, Merriam-Webster Encyclopedia of Literature, Contemporary Poets, Contemporary Novelists, Postmodern Fiction, Webster’s Dictionary of American Writers, The HarperCollins Reader’s Encyclopedia of American Literature, Baker’s Biographical Dictionary of Musicians, Directory of American Scholars, Who’s Who in America, Who’s Who in the World, Who’s Who in American Art, NNDB.com, Wikipedia.com, and Britannica.com, among other distinguished directories. Otherwise, he survives in New York, where he was born, unemployed and thus overworked.

http://www.richardkostelanetz.com/

The Art of David Delamare

Rabbit Punch

All three following images from Rabbit Punch

The History of Lightning

details from The History of Lightning

Details from The History of Lightning continued

Titanik Ink

Titanik Details

Titanik continued

The Tempest

Tempest Details

Carnival of Curiosities

Ophelia

David Delamare was born in Leicester, UK but lives in the U.S. His paintings have appeared on numerous book and album covers, in television programs and in films. He produced concept work for Warner Bros. Animated Features and Francis Ford Coppola, and designed sets for the American premier of Trevor Nunn’s Peter Pan.

Delamare paintings have been purchased by museums and appear regularly in the prestigious juried annual Spectrum: The Best in Contemporary Fantastic Art.

Delamare has illustrated ten books: a retrospective, eight children’s titles (one a collaboration with singer Carly Simon) and an adult alphabet book. As a writer, he adapted one fairy tale, produced two original children’s books, and co-wrote Animerotics: A Forbidden Cabaret in 26 Acts.

His artwork decorates the walls of a dessert parlor in Singapore and a beachfront restaurant in the Hamptons.

Currently David Delamare is working on four new illustrated books, including a unique version of Alice in Wonderland. He is also composing music, and working with his publisher and partner Wendy Ice to produce his first music videos.

For more information on his work please see: http://www.daviddelamare.com

The Art of Clive Barker

The Arsonist

Christopher Carrion Rising

Clive Barker best known for bringing the world Hellraiser and Candyman has gained acclaim for his work as an author and director. His work dealing largely with fantasy and horror has delighted fans for years. Barker’s creations as a visual artist are every bit as delightfully dark as his writings. These and other examples of his artistic renderings can be found at http://clivebarker.deviantart.com/.

http://www.clivebarker.info/

“Home, Sweet Home” by Antler

Home, Sweet Home

A mouse in its nest inside a moose skull
     looks up at miniature icicles
          dangling from cracks in the bone
     above her head,
Silver icicles inside a moose skull
     as darkness falls
          and the cold wind howls
     while the mouse feels
          safe and warm —
     home, sweet home.
But one night she froze
     and come spring
          there was a mouse skull
     inside a moose skull
          and inside the mouse skull
A spider spun a web
     and lived all spring —
          home, sweet home,
     and when it died
A tiny mite moved in
     inside where the spider’s brain was
          and lived all summer —
     home, sweet home,
          before it died,
So there was a skull in a skull in a skull in a skull
     causing a poet’s brain in its skull to think
          isn’t the Earth in the Sun’s skull
     the way his poems
          are in his head?
And the Sun in the Galaxy’s skull
     and the Galaxy in the Universe’s skull
          and the Universe in the Big Bang’s skull
     and the Big Bang in Eternity’s skull
          and Eternity in Infinity’s skull and . . .
Home, sweet home.

Former poet laureate of Milwaukee, Antler, is author of Factory (City Lights), Last Words (Ballantine), Selected Poems (Soft Skull) and Exclamation Points ad Infinitum! (Centennial Press). His poems also appear in the anthologies Poets Against the War, Best Gay Poetry 2008, Working Words, In the Spirit of T’ao Ch’ien and Comeback Wolves: Welcoming the Wolf Home. When not wildernessing or traveling to perform his poems, he lives in Milwaukee with his longtime camerado, poet Jeff Poniewaz. For more info, photos, poems, check out his website: www.antlerpoet.net.

“Fall” by Gabrielle McIntire

Fall

 

A tender swelling comes at the still

Heart of things when petals lose

Their too-lighted life and fall,

Failing at their grasping, all

 

Swoon fading.

I watched, too,

The dimming of you, upbraided by

A vein, a flinty core, when blue was expected,

All bright winds, possibly a rising moon,

Possibly a too-near sun.

 

Tell me

Were we bettered by the sky or

Only impatient of patterns? Does

A petal matter at all hours or only

In a brimming darkness where you

Hear no fall, see no lost blush?

 

 

 
Gabrielle McIntire is an Associate professor of English Literature at Queen’s University, Canada. She is the author of Modernism, Memory and Desire: T.S. Eliot and Virginia Woolf (Cambridge University Press, 2008), and her poetry and articles have appeared in journals and collections in England, France, Canada, and the United States. She has also written a novel that is currently in search of an agent.

“Guilty Until Proven” by Justice Howard

Gerard Schaefer

 

GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN

I was at Belle Glade Correctional Institution in Florida visiting the great serial killer and sex beast author G. J. Schaeffer.

Who, upon first inspection seemed quiet and unassuming and nice enough, if even rather nerdish.

I told him I liked his story Spring Break,  the one about the guy who ends up murdering a wealthy high-class college student and that I too had felt that way at some time or another.

What I meant was that I too had felt a meandering dislike for the rich and bitchy.

But he did not take it that way.

He answered ” Oh so, you too have murder in your heart eh?”

His ghoulish smile, laced with an all-knowing creepy resonance left no doubt in my mind

that his heart had blacker spots in its depth than I could ever hope to fathom.

Justice Howard

World renowned photographer Justice Howard’s work has appeared in over 50 hardcover books and thousands of magazines internationally including French Vogue, Cosmopolitan, People, Newsweek, Jane, In Touch Weekly and Skin Two. Howard’s work has been exhibited at more than 60 galleries as well as many museums across the U.S. and Europe. 64 of the rooms in the upscale Lord Balfour Hotel in South Beach, Florida contain 30 foot wall murals of her art. The Tattoo Bar in Washington, DC also displays 30 of her pieces in 6 foot light boxes. Marilyn Manson, Billy Idol, Dave Navarro, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and Dick Dale have all also spent time in front of Howard’s lens. Her subjects read like an “artistic wish list”. Nominated as one of the top 10 tattoo photographers, she has been compared to Annie Liebowitz and Herb Ritts and is often referred to as “the female Helmut Newton.”

http://justicehoward.com/
http://spattergasm.com/

“Mourning Missed (temporary sanity)” by Joshua Lawson

Mourning Missed (temporary sanity)

I’m a stray bullet
a falling star
the long, cold winter
that makes you starve

your stigmata that begs to bleed
if you truly care, then suffer me

it’s suicide to be so loved
it’s such a tragedy…

you’re everything I’m not
everything I need
a soul that can’t be bought
temporary sanity

when love comes like a thief in the night
would you suffer me?
star crossed lust mixed with lies
would you suffer me?

I’m God’s mistake
the mourning missed
the cold steel razor
across your wrist

the sadistic haunting that never leaves
if you truly care, then suffer me

would you die to be so loved
it’s such a tragedy…

you’re everything I’ve lost
everything I’ve dreamt
all that I could ever want
temporary sanity

just like a car crash, just like a knife
would you suffer me?
blood, sweat and tears sacrificed
you will suffer me

“Tug of War” by Lori A. May

Tug of War

He feels her slip away
pulls her closer
desperate to hinder
the chance of change

 

 

Lori A. May is the author of four books, including The Low-Residency MFA Handbook: A Guide for Prospective Creative Writing Students (Continuum, 2011). Her work has appeared in publications such as Passages North, Hippocampus Magazine, and qarrtsiluni. Canadian by birth and disposition, she now calls Michigan home. www.loriamay.com

The New Constructivism of Werner Horvath

Vincent van Gogh

Sunflowers

Jim Morrison

Darth Maul

Darth Vader

Che Guevara

Bad News

Pray

Lennon Altar

James Dean

Werner Horvath

Werner Horvath was born in Linz, Austria in 1949 and has been painting since his youth. Beside his interest in art, he studied medicine in Vienna. Horvath is now a well known chief radiologist in Linz; specialist in interventional radiology. His art-style turned from Phantasic Realism (1969 – 1975) slowly to New Constructivism, named after the philosophical theory, based on the works of Vico, Uexküll, Glasersfeld, Watzlawick and others. The theoretical background is explained in detail by the artist in a stage play in form of a text-collage, called Jahrtausendwende – Die Theorie des neuen bildenden Konstruktivismus (in German).

In his paintings, Horvath tries to show that what we call reality may not be so “real” after all. He explains that the world we live in can be understood as constructed by ourselves. For instance, colors do not really exist, but are products of the visual system and therefore are only “real” within our consciousness. But also forms of all kind have no reality outside our subjective world; on the contrary they are built up by several psychological mechanisms. And at last we have to take into consideration, that we live in a “symbolic world”: We see Stalin not only as a politician who lived from 1879 to 1953, but also as a symbol of dictatorship and cruelty.

As precursors of his style Horvath names Giuseppe Arcimboldo and M.C.Escher. Most of Horvath’s paintings are influenced by political events, deal with political and social problems or express the artist’s opinion on our society. For more, please visit The New Constructivism of Werner Horvath.

“Cleopatra, I Love You” by Ian Ayres

"Cleopatra, I Love You" by Ian Ayres

“Cleopatra, I Love You” by Ian Ayres

Cleopatra, I Love You

Even if you don’t like it (my penetrating your very core & soul) my love knows no “No, no, no’s” & capitulates on planting your womb with my seed . . . Seems an ellipsis is due (forget the period). We are wordless & worldless. There is nothing but temporary hanging onto illusions of unwrapped present. You & I know we die & nothing changes a thing by asking why. Question Mark? Fuck Mark. Before Mark, others punctuated you. Yet it’s all a momentary orgasm not worth dying for — though we die, we die — you die & I die & we all die within the too-fast blink of an eye. So why not get naked among the gods; our flesh pulsating claws of exclamation! Next comes you or me awaiting the other on the other side. For eternity, Cleopatra, be my wife. Please. For I am on my knees before you. & then, with the dawn, I am gone.