very small dogs

Portrait I & II

2012-01-16T13:27:00.001-08:00

picture msg

2012-01-14T07:53:00.000-08:00

[photos were taken on my cell phone, texted to my gmail account, printed out, and wintergreen oil transferred to cardboard. texting to gmail caused some amount of image scrambling in most photos, resulting in the composite or pixilated look that is seen here.]

The Open Boat [S.C./D.H./J.Y.]

2012-01-12T09:00:00.001-08:00

Transfer and colored pencil.

[Spots and typeface are all the same size, whereas cardboard pieces vary in dimension, despite apparrent sizes on blogger.]

SAD LOOSE REMAIN

2012-01-10T13:17:00.000-08:00

Nite

2012-01-08T11:28:00.001-08:00

Transfer, pencil, and collage.

Envelopes

2012-01-02T14:58:00.000-08:00

Envelopes

2011-12-31T11:57:00.001-08:00

Oh sorry my heart was wrong

2011-12-31T09:46:00.000-08:00

Wintergreen transfer (photos of JY) and collage.

Merry Xmas from 13 Calves plus Naumann's LAAIR

2011-12-23T05:52:00.000-08:00

Click to view or download pdfs. I ran across the jpgs of Naumann's LAAIR (1970), his 10 photographs of the LA sky, posted somewhere online and reconstructed the booklet in InDesign.

Book of Latin Grammar

2011-12-16T09:43:00.000-08:00

Left Diptych [Text: and Persephone herself is but a voice or a darkness invisible enfolded in the deeper dark of the arms Plutonic]

Triptych [Text: But what further depreciates the whale as a civilized dish, is his exceeding richness. He is the great prize ox of the sea, too fat to be delicately good. Look at his hump, which would be as fine eating as the buffalo’s (which is esteemed a rare dish), were it not such a solid pyramid of fat. But the spermaceti itself, how bland and creamy that is; like the transparent, half-jellied, white meat of a cocoanut in the third month of its growth, yet far too rich to supply a substitute for butter.]

Right Diptych [Text: Up to this point all in evidence is materialistic, an exhibition of force, of resolution, of brains in the keen sense of the word. It is the joint product of the speculator, the engineer, the builder. // Mummy is become merchandise, Mizraim, cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold for balsams. // He likes a boggy acre, A floor too cool for corn.]

Mare Snow Said Week Late Pale Lake

2011-12-04T08:58:00.000-08:00

The Human Age

2011-12-01T07:45:00.001-08:00

Species of Civil War Ordnance (series of 8)

2011-12-01T07:31:00.000-08:00

Each of these objects was flung from a cannon to destroy people or structures. The cities given in the text were battle sites in the war. Transfer on plasterboard.

The expected guest (oracle)

2011-11-27T06:31:00.000-08:00

of Man

From all sides the temple was locked, iron against stone lion. Through it she reached to tap the eye of one, through it the arm was hung.

Restaurant

The character in the blue-wet sky, ant for a letter. In her book were sometimes translation, perchance the buttered lip.

The 3rd Tautology

Rock or the blue of muscle, he sought resolve in light. Say him the ache of X.

Stations of the Cross

2011-11-08T17:01:00.000-08:00

This novel as landscape

2011-11-08T16:42:00.000-08:00

About Edward Mullany's If I Falter At The Gallows

2011-10-26T06:33:00.000-07:00

Edward Mullany is a moralist. I’m not entirely sure what a moralist is and I’m resisting the urge to look it up, see what Wikipedia has to say on the subject, but still I’m pretty sure that’s what Edward is. He is telling us how to live. Yes, there, that’s it.

These are very grave poems, the ones printed in If I Falter At The Gallows, out by Publishing Genius this week. They don’t let us out, these poems. They give us these choices, “A black dot on a white wall…a white dot on a black wall,” and we are forced to choose between them. There’s no way to choose, of course, but Edward makes us anyway. He knows there’s no way to choose, it says so in the poems, but still.

I guess the question is, Is there something, at last, that we can do? Can we refuse to choose, and refuse to refuse to choose? Only if we exit the system altogether. Just if we negate the whole of “The Revisionist’s Song.” Only if there can be no empty parts VII And VIII in our world view.

Surely there are some who can, exit the system. I don’t know though, I don’t feel strong enough, or the poems are too strong. What loveliness.

Newton's Theory of Martyrdom (front and back)

2011-10-09T06:34:00.000-07:00

Booklets II

2011-10-08T08:06:00.001-07:00

The Guides To Ossabaw, 16 pp, wintergreen transfer on resume paper (front cover and spread)

Description of the World, 12 pp, wintergreen transfer on cardboard w/ old book cover (front cover and spread)

U.S. Post, 12 pp, wintergreen transfer on envelopes (front cover and spread)

Booklets

2011-09-18T12:18:00.000-07:00

Directed, 28 pp, wintergreen transfer on book pages (front cover and spread)

Faust, 16 pp, wintergreen transfer on book pages; paperback book cover (front cover and spread)

Carbon, 16 pp, pencil on tracing paper (front cover)

Ailanthus altissima, 48 pp, wintergreen transfer on drawing paper and cardboard (spread and front cover)

Chairs, south VA

2011-09-17T09:05:00.000-07:00

Ossabaw show pics

2011-09-15T08:55:00.000-07:00

My hogs in situ and the curator, Christine, and I in front of Linda Franklin's shadow box and Christine's drawings [over my left shoulder].

Two new chapbooks

2011-09-09T08:52:00.000-07:00

Feel free to download and read these two new chapbooks. Actually, the work in Falls the Shadow predates that of Easter Rabbit, though the chapbook is new.

2011-08-26T06:22:00.001-07:00

Poster by Jamie Kutner.

Work as landscape

2011-08-15T15:56:00.000-07:00

I have written close to 200 articles on gold, silver, platinum, and palladium, all ~400 words long. Most of these articles are very similar to each other yet each has to be original under my client’s terms. I can’t reproduce any of those articles here, but this is one article with each letter replaced with an asterisk.

****** **** ****** ********** **** *********

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**** ****** ** **** ***** ****** ** *** ***** ******* ****** **** ** ********* ** *** ********* ** *** ****, **** ****** *********** ** ***** *** *****. ** *** ****** ** ***** ********* **** ******* ******* ** ***** ** ******, **** *** ******* ** ****, ******* **** ****** *******. *******, ** *** ********** **** ** **** ******** ** ********, **** **** ******** ** *** ******** ********** ** *** ***** ** ****. **** ********** ** ******** ********* *** *** ******* *** ****** ****** **** *** ***** **** ** **** ******* *******.

**** *** ** **** ********** ***, ** ******, ** * ****** ***** ***** ****** ** **** ********, ********* **** ********* **** **** **** ******* ** ***** ********. *** ** **** *** **** **** **** ** * ****** ****** ***** *** ***** *** ** ****** ****** *** *** ***** ** ***** ****** ***** **** **** ******. *** ********* ** **** ***** **** *** ******** *** *** *** **** ******** ** **** ***** **** ** ** **** ************ ** ** **.

Self Portrait as landscape

2011-08-06T16:22:00.000-07:00

Body bands made with masking tape.

The Dentist as landscape

2011-08-05T08:42:00.000-07:00

As I watched The Dentist I placed a red square on the screen approximately every 1 minute.

Paul Mitchell

2011-08-04T07:01:00.000-07:00

This September in Savannah, GA, I will have work included in an art show to benefit Ossabaw Island. My stuff will consist of approximately 35 wood panels featuring Paul Mitchell, a semi-tame hog that lives on the island, and accompanying texts. The show is curated by Christine Sajecki and will include works on paper by her and several other past visitors to Ossabaw.

The Stranger as landscape

2011-08-03T13:52:00.000-07:00

While reading The Stranger I placed a black circle with wintergreen oil transfer on each right facing page. This took 77 circles.

4 things rather unrelated

2011-07-25T18:07:00.000-07:00

Deep at Knee

The dog’s descent was wobble hipped and left of dust. It passed about the cruiser, flickering then that corner of the home.

Whose is it? the smallest girl said.

He didn’t know and neither the girl’s two sisters. They stood on one foot or two, they sluicing candies in the mouth. I’m scared of it, one sister said, nods from another.

The smallest girl but left of dust too, in a moment passing at the cruiser, flickering that corner of the home.

Dad’ll be mad she gets bit, said one sister, shrugs from another.

The two then looked to break the tie by him. Though he’d never met the lot, the dad nor dog either.

~

Orphan orphaned or/metropole and periphery

~

The Hotel’s 40th Floor

In the hot after the cool of the rain, he felt the long of the day. It was bright, and the sunny noise had a way of moving the curtain. Say, he said, to the girl that changed his bandage. Your hands are strong.

The girl frowned and patted once the top of her head. I don’t take compliments from patients, she said, returning to the bandage. The movement to the top of her head was the most deliberate thing he saw.

He looked at the long of the fingers and the chip of her polish. But it wasn’t a compliment, he answered. Or even much of an observation. It was my lips moving.

The girl stopped her work, put long hands to her side.

He watched her there not move. She did not move for one long moment. Her eyes were on about the place of his shins beneath a blanket.

Okay, she said and left with a movement of air. The next time she came in he was asleep and in his dream he was very kind and cool to her and in that dream she knew that much at least.

~

Brahma was (was not) a boy

Tongue Expressors

2011-07-02T11:37:00.001-07:00

My Tongue Expressors will be part of the art show, CART, opening at Current Gallery on Saturday July 9 and on view throughout Artscape.

String day 5

2011-06-24T13:31:00.000-07:00

The line has been lost, irretrievable amongst stone, forest, river, and a tall cement wall. Perhaps with a raft or boat it might be found. Barring that, a new line will have to be started, the 40 or so inaccessible feet left unstrung, put down to tried my best.

String day 4

2011-06-23T14:32:00.001-07:00

Several conversations along the line today, both with friends passing by and with strangers. In several, the subject of breaches to the line and whether to repair. The discipline of daily repair is appealing, though would be time consuming. Five breaches today and only a small portion of the route has been strung. Also appealing to move forward, not look back, to let the tatters stand. More on this, but though I've repaired the breaches thus far, I'm leaning toward letting them stand. Also in conversation, the practice in some Jewish communities of stringing homes together on the Sabbath. Thirdly, the question of sending telegraph signals through the line.

String day 3

2011-06-22T18:09:00.000-07:00

Just as I was finishing stringing today I saw the cops stopped by the side of the road. I stuffed the large spool of blue string (courtesy of my friend Megan) into my back pocket, tried to hide it by pulling my t-shirt over it. As I approached, one plain clothes cop, black fellow, badge on his belt, called me over. Shit. He asks, "You know about the berries people pick along here?" Me, "The mullberries?" He nods, "You seen a homeless black guy, about 40 years old, around here?" "No." Another cop, thin, dark-haired woman in uniform, was taking pictures in the rubble on the far side of the road. I have no idea, didn't ask. As I walked away the cop must have seen the spool in my back pocket, bigger thoughts in mind.

String

2011-06-21T06:10:00.000-07:00

I started my string project yesterday, in which I will run a continuous length of string along a road in Baltimore City that travels alongside a river and through various natural, industrial, and historic settings. The stretch of road is a little over 2 miles long, although I suspect the string length I’ll need will be 4 or more miles considering how it will be strung and the terrain it will have to pass through. Because I’ll have to push through a lot of brush and forest, scramble over steep banks, and possibly wade through the river at points, I’m thinking it could take me a good while to complete, and, actually, I’m a bit daunted by it. But one of the points of this idea is the close interaction it will require with that landscape, one that has been central to many of my art and writing projects over the past few years. Another nice feature is that a lot of my friends have kindly agreed to donate string, giving the idea a bit of a collaborative feel.

Here are a few pictures. I’ll try to get better ones next time.

Birnini Bed Sheets (The Rape of Proserpina)

2011-05-30T07:38:00.000-07:00

Pluto needed a wife, so he abducted Proserpina and took her to live with him in the Underworld.

The Potential Forest

2011-05-27T07:57:00.000-07:00

Installed at Leakin Park for Art in the Park. In the background of the last photo you can just see other sections of the cedar shingles on the forest floor. There were 5 such sections.

the News

2011-05-27T07:28:00.000-07:00

I made this mail art to send to the art blog Hyperallergic.

2011-05-08T08:24:00.000-07:00

The newly edited version of Deep Falls, first conceived in 2008 by Christine Sajecki and me.

ART WORDS or WORD ARTS

2011-04-25T14:19:00.000-07:00

I've been up to a few things lately and here are some pics of that. First are of an installation called A History of Falling I did at The Gspot Gallery in Baltimore as part of the show Same River Twice, second a sculpture that is called Untitled (Tracks) in its home beneath a railroad bridge close to my house, and third a thing called The Potential Forest that, I hope, will be part of Art in the Park, an outdoor art exhibit here in Balto.

A Bad Freaking Idea

2010-12-21T15:19:00.000-08:00

Thrift store microfictions

2010-12-17T08:29:00.000-08:00

I am dabbling in wax myself with this new work, in which I buy paintings from thrift stores, add wax and other elements and then text with Letraset letters. Like them? They can be purchased at my TextShop.

Brand New Easter Rabbit Cover!

2010-12-17T08:22:00.000-08:00

Here it is, straight off the easel (actually, work bench) from painter extraordinaire Christine Sajecki. Encaustic and photocopy transfer on birch panel. Back cover design by Adam Robinson. Sent to the printers today! The re-printing will also feature a new section of stories, Stories Around People.

2010-12-04T14:18:00.001-08:00

Wrigley’s Doublemint

There on the bend of the wildest river, the bear and its glittered fish, the otter that washes its hands. The man stands on a stone in the midst. He doesn’t turn to look, the woman on the bank, legs tan and water in her hand, but he knows that she’s there. She is the complete to the scene, the dub and lub, the match that lights that that matters.

Dunlop Performance

It’s the backyard and the boy is there, stained a little orange about the mouth. He sits splay-legged long in the grass. This is the tableau of things that happen, love and girls and the few white miles to come.

Paxil

Just because the sun is in the glass and the lawn sweeps towards a bay won’t mean she wants or won’t want the boy. The man too cooks something in sauce at the front of the house. Her cheek in hand, lengthy miles of eyes, these warnings are not for you to say.

The Movie

2010-12-02T17:45:00.000-08:00

One thing he could do—and there wasn’t much he could—was dive. He pushed off with his toes and when he hit the water it was pure and lovely missile. He was across the pool or through the lake or up the river and like that. Raising his head from beneath and anyone to see was impressed.

She was lying on the pool cement. Her hair was a black hat. She kept swatting at the flies that landed on her legs, her small stomach, the tender shoulder either side of the yellow strap. They were everywhere, she was saying, the flies and the dirty needle of their bites. He’d not felt even one or even knew besides her saying so that they were present. He’d not in his life that he could remember ever been bitten by a mosquito.

The sun began to go dark, pitching the tree above them. Large patters of rain fell on her towel and marked the poolside stone. The guard raised his whistle, the must to climb the ladder and stand himself beside her. The air was a whorling of dust that stung at her eyes.

“Let go,” she said when he reached to lead her indoors. But she took his hand the same and they felt the cool between. One arm touched his ribs, the smooth of her as soft as he might have thought. “So we’re safe,” he said and flipped the hair from his eye. He stood on his heals, pushing back, there the more to know her.

An Acorn

2010-12-01T06:10:00.001-08:00

She lived in the 19th century. This meant that she knew horses as well as she knew dark. It meant she knew the taste of things like paraffin and verdigris. She walked through unripe fields almost everywhere she would walk. The ocean was across a straight of water and then beyond a forest of pine and then 7 miles of sand.

He lived in the same century but all of it was book. This heavy book and that heavy book and his legs were copper because of some disease. He showed them to her once and she thought they were beautiful in their terrible yellow. The skin was tight too like the bottom of a kettle.

“What did you think was out there?” she asked him.

He shook his head, thinking of monsters but telling her of some city of some sort. “All a crushing of men of different colors,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not,” she said. “It’s much smaller and so much wider. The people are dim and the land very bright.”

He wanted her to push his chaise into a warmer room. The windows here let in the air and the sound of the river at the end of the drive. It was a wicked sound of things undone, people who had drowned and drug away.

She wouldn’t though. She slammed her feet on the floor and began to cry. She wanted to pull open her shirt and show him the bare of her chest. The windows here strained the light and took the ache from her vulva, the eternity of maternity that one day would mar her.

He said things now that were sickly and low. He lived in the 19th century. He touched her hair. His heart was a portrait of men.

Autobiography of Cat

2010-11-23T07:43:00.000-08:00

Dark Sky is going to run one part of my six part story, Autobiography of Cat, every day for 6 days. Kinda neat way to do it. Here's where it's happening. Plus, here's a short microfiction video I made a while ago, A Cat's Walk.

Ready?

2010-11-19T06:47:00.000-08:00

In early 2011, Publishing Genius will do the REPRINT of my book of microfictions, Easter Rabbit. The REPRINT will have an all-new cover from original Easter Rabbit cover maker and brilliant encaustic artist Christine Sajecki. The REPRINT will also include new stories and such. Ready?

Arob and Polo

2010-11-19T06:28:00.000-08:00

I designed this book cover for Adam Robinson's fictional (very fictional?) memoir. I think it's going to be a barnburner. I hear he's also setting up a writers' sweatshop called Half Empty Eights to churn out biographies of famous eschatologists.

I also have this Letraset microfiction over at Marco Polo Quarterly.

TextShop

2010-10-15T08:12:00.000-07:00

I put up a new site to show some of my text-visual stuff called TextShop. Thanks for visiting.

2 new collages: Much Left (for LB) and 5 Lines Baltimore

2010-09-27T11:10:00.000-07:00

5 Lines Baltimore (from Easter Rabbit)

A warehouse slid into the street, shuffle of yellow brick beneath the stoplight, no cars, but in the stone a man's cane, a gull's blood.

From the rich wood of the coffined attic the bats decanted, circled the turrets, a mugger with one eye rolled on the sky.

He walked beside the red pole, deep cut, black line.

A box of toys blew over, rain whipped the porch rail, a boy skinny and wet fed his cat through the window screen.

The steps were white cakes, green roses of beer bottles and dead flowers, a woman feigning sleep on the sidewalk.

2010-09-23T21:52:00.000-07:00

Best New Book by a Local Author

Easter Rabbit by Joseph Young

Microfictionist Joseph Young has whittled the short story down to a few sentences—and often fewer than 50 words. What’s disarming is how effective these stories are in Easter Rabbit. You expect something so terse to feel incomplete, a mere piece of some greater whole, but the stories, moments, relationships, and feelings in these 100 pages end up saying all they need to in an artfully precise use of language.

LINK

My Vampire Novel, NAME

2010-08-10T12:11:00.001-07:00

I've written a vampire novel. It took 1 month to write. It's pretty long for me, about 125 pages. It's for sale, presale, HERE. The presales go to pay my rent! Yeah. There's an excerpt at that link and way to preorder. It's a $10.00 donation, or more if you like. Thanks!

Early Record

2010-06-22T08:27:00.000-07:00

--

Lucy

The empty things sat on the ground not sitting. It didn’t eat or knit. No heartbeat was had, no broken anything.

Ethiop and Persephone

Ohio has a rock near covered gold grass stood six times in time. It was so a girl pretty they missed her.

Mary That Is Beautiful

She lay out in field of red flower the hips that rung the pottery bone.

Tag

2010-06-16T16:03:00.001-07:00

Abundance

2010-06-11T15:12:00.000-07:00

Abundance is a new project: 27 occurrences in spray paint and Letraset. See the whole project at the Abundance blog. Thank you.

WordVerts™

2010-06-01T06:15:00.001-07:00

My Life

2010-05-28T19:45:00.000-07:00

Joseph Young

2010-03-30T09:56:00.001-07:00

NO IDEAS FROM HERE

2010-02-13T20:40:00.000-08:00

--

Tape

The knife that tore the envelope tore the apricot. What was it?

Water

The boxes ranked against the open room.

Watch

So it was cut the water bright the tub.

Say

We see.

OF ALL 2,000 YEARS

2010-02-10T18:56:00.000-08:00

--

10 Point

The city after the snow was Medieval, the thousand paths wound as browsing deer. Inside her coat what wild heart.

Lethe

The beads were rolled-river at her throat, milk blue on a yellow string. I can’t sleep she said, into his ear. The dog guarded her feet, eyes serious with cataract.

Turn

He folded a small squid eating sugar from the table top. The murmur of the room might have been plaintive, not for the smell of caramel.

Runt

One bright claw and it could have been done, all of that. The mothers drowsed and woke clamoring for the woods.

The Salmon-Falls

He walked the stone hall to the tourists’ kiosk. She waited touching the cover of a book. Men it seemed stood on hooves.

LECTURES

2010-01-20T11:50:00.000-08:00

-

A Bra Burning

When Freud painted “Envy,” the women collapsed, holding fans to their faces. Hot that year, they retired to the Tyrols.

50 Days of Palindromes

Although Thiebaud painted cakes like women, Hopper went the other way. That’s what’s fun, and confusing, about Pop.

Rumor Control

Johns as a boy liked to burn candles in his bedroom, until he caught his bed clothes on fire. His friend “R.R.” liked to sleep around.

The Greek

You really have to go back to Italy CA 1560 to see good manners. Still the word thug was thrown about, not surprising with a name like that.

JOSEPH YOUNG

2010-01-19T10:28:00.000-08:00

-

Joseph Young

You might start with the top of the head, where the heat goes. This is first, first from the womb, the first word.

Joseph Young

There might have been a faith that placed it in the mouth, not the liver or in the heart.

Joseph Young

It might have been the desert that made things first for the eye. Now the trees all fall to light.

Joseph Young

She might have been the mother or a sister, her head was navy with the moon.

Joseph Young

You might end with the feet, washed, where much the world will go.

Inbox/Easter Rabbit Release Party

2009-11-25T08:30:00.000-08:00

My incredibly talented friends Kathy Fahey and Katie Feild designed this cellphone-sized book for me, Inbox. For a while, I was texting microfiction to friends. Kathy and Katie collected that small series of stories into Inbox.

Kathy Fahey also designed these beautiful posters for my upcoming book release party. Man, am I lucky in friends or what?

Baltimore author Joseph Young is celebrating the release of his book of microfictions, Easter Rabbit, by bringing together a diverse team of musicians, performers, and visual artists to add their vision to the book’s stories. The party is scheduled for December 12 at The Hexagon, 1825 N Charles Street, starting at 7 pm.

Easter Rabbit, published by local small press Publishing Genius, comprises 86 extremely short stories, with some stories as short as 17 words. At the release party, a team of actors will dramatize a dozen of the stories, while a group of painters and other artists will show work inspired by the book. Local band Sweatpants will be on hand to play music composed especially for the event.

Artists included in the show are Lauren Boilini, Graham Coreil-Allen, Kathy Fahey, Luca DiPierro, Paul Jeanes, Magnolia Laurie, and Easter Rabbit cover artist Christine Sajecki. Actors are Linda Franklin and Caleb Stine, directed by Nancy Murray. Sweatpants is Adam Robinson, Jamie Gaughran-Perez, and David NeSmith.

Interview on The Signal

2009-11-07T08:24:00.000-08:00

Aaron Henkin of WYPR, our local NPR station, interviewed me about Easter Rabbit and the workings of microfiction on the radio show The Signal. I also read some selections from the book. The podcast is here. All the segments from the show are well worth listening to, but for your info, I'm at approximately minute 25 in the show.

Stories Around People

2009-11-05T05:00:00.000-08:00

An Event

Facebook lived in midtown, for there the people and windows shone like water. Though it would board the bus—1 day—and ride to the sea, where people said words like sea and where the city shone in the waves and the fish were sidewalks and windows.

Bolt

In the night, the house where Octopus lived burned to the ground, all the letters and poems a curled ash. The other books patted its shoulder and gave it roses and tea. It stood admiring the sky and thankful.

A Labor

You do not understand, vacuum said, it's never been like that between us. In its jar, it knew this, seized it.

Chroma

2009-11-02T12:52:00.000-08:00

The Geostroph/The Interstites

2009-10-29T07:44:00.000-07:00

The Geostroph

The wind was on the face of the rock, a pink stream invisible. I have that distance to cross it said, the face of a dog, the river in the sand.

The Interstites

The kidney in its dungeon longed to laugh. It had the vision of grass on the hill and a traveling boy.

Jeff

2009-10-28T08:33:00.000-07:00

If This Were Baltimore

2009-10-26T22:55:00.000-07:00

East

A spray of change in the lilies and loose rubber, she pulled close to the wall. She smiled at the trucks, her handful of loot. Hallelujah, he said, converting.

West

Like 4 miles of cakes, they counted the headstones. 200 he said, but she wrinkled her nose. 200 maybe of old men alone.

River

No soil, just rock, flakes of plaster on the shore. She peeled one leaf and gave him continuance of that.

Taxonomy, microfiction video

2009-10-25T06:16:00.000-07:00

Easter Rabbit Collage

2009-10-24T07:37:00.001-07:00

Easter Rabbit Trailer and Offers

2009-10-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

I wanted to let everyone see my new video trailer for my forthcoming book of microfictions, Easter Rabbit, and tell you of a couple special offers being presented by my publisher, Publishing Genius.

First, the next 5 people who preorder Easter Rabbit will receive in the mail, right away, a free copy of A Jello Horse by Matthew Simmons, now in its second printing from Publishing Genius. As Jim Ruland observes in his review of A Jello Horse in Believer Magazine, the book is a strange one but very beautiful:

“This writing feels real; ergo, it must be honest. How then do you explain the giant desert tortoise, 'large as a minor-league baseball stadium'?"

Second, there is an ongoing offer from my publisher regarding Easter Rabbit: if you can read the entire 3000 word book in a single sitting, front to back, you are eligible for your money back. Simply write 50 words telling us what you thought of the book, which we will reproduce on the Publishing Genius website, let us know you did indeed read the entire book in one sitting, and we will refund the purchase price of the book, no questions asked. As Adam Robinson of Publishing Genius challenges,

“You won't be able to do it.
It's too long, even though it's so short.”

Thanks for your time and interest.

Experiments with Young Fish

2009-10-01T16:46:00.000-07:00

Writer Kathy Fish and I collaborated to create hybrid microfictions at the blog VIPs of vsf. Check it out.

Also, I have new microfiction at Smokelong Quarterly.

Easter Rabbit Available for Preorder

2009-09-21T16:42:00.000-07:00

My book is now available as preorder from Publishing Genius. Preorders will ship October 15, with wide release in December 2009. Also, visit the press site for Easter Rabbit, to be updated as needed. Thank you!

I'm Doomed: Hegel [and Me]

2009-08-23T07:18:00.000-07:00

The ingenious (and genius) Randall Brown writes "Using Doom, Tragedy, and Hegel to Write (Short) Short Fiction," borrowing my story, "Troubadour," for explication.

Easter Rabbit

2009-08-18T12:24:00.001-07:00

Bridge/mural/microfiction/Boilini/Young/in progress

2009-07-20T15:22:00.000-07:00

Hey Look, He Listens to Christian Rock

2009-07-01T11:49:00.001-07:00

Paddle boats swamped in seal-haired girls, red-water pavilions of pizza and fudge, the blue blubber of dad’s white neck—swum in a sea of stupidity. He fingered the comb in his pocket, knew it’d never make a difference. All he could trust in was Jesus, stupid savior, beautiful boy.

Deep Falls (2007-08)

2009-06-23T07:08:00.001-07:00

Baltimore & Allegan Thruway

2009-06-21T07:51:00.000-07:00

My dad's from Allegan, MI and now lives here in Baltimore. Made this for Father's Day.

Wall Collage

2009-06-03T10:22:00.000-07:00

[Birthday: All his objects passed across the water, joining the longest stretch of lawn anyone had ever seen.]

Collage 05

2009-05-31T09:13:00.001-07:00

Collage 04

2009-05-28T08:30:00.000-07:00

Blogger, or perhaps the WWW Conspiracy, refuses to let the text portion of Collage 04 register unblurred. Excuse this please.

[SPANISH: SO REDLY NEAR SHE FOUND.]

Collage 02 and 03

2009-05-26T12:54:00.000-07:00

[Cutbank -- With no water, he asked water.]

One Reading of Huck Finn

2009-05-14T12:21:00.000-07:00

The boat lounged empty on the lake top, silver on green glass. She watched, worried her hair. Something monstrous in it, she said. Flies bounced corpulent against their cheeks. He waved.

Some Good Things To Be Said For The Iron Age

2009-04-26T09:30:00.000-07:00

From the next yard, the lonely, excited twittering of the puppy. She excused herself, left the long table. Oh, she said, cellphone. Oh.

Exeunt

2009-04-25T07:11:00.001-07:00

Her belly was a forest of beauty, as the deep end of the pool. Do you think, she said, her line, the sun breaking the world.

FIGHT!

2009-04-16T16:19:00.000-07:00

Randall Brown don't know the first thing.

2009-04-01T20:25:00.000-07:00

Word Periodic

2009-03-04T14:23:00.001-08:00

A road spur crackled in black trees, black slashes of goose. The three angled, toward a ditch, a wire fence, away and toward and afterward.

Snow Shovel

2009-02-25T00:27:00.000-08:00

After review, buyers of microfiction can now take the snow shovel option. Purchase 1 or more microfictions and have a snow shovel shipped to your house from Amazon.com. Indicate address and Option 1 (no shovel) or Option 2 (yes shovel) in your PayPal order.

The Damned Pythagoras

2009-02-21T09:13:00.000-08:00

In a right-angled triangle, the square of the hypotenuse equals the sum of the squares of the opposing sides.

My microfiction is now on sale

2009-02-20T07:26:00.000-08:00

Check the sidebar of this blog. This is no joke. In today's economy, no one is joking. Yes they are.

Standard Solution

2009-02-17T07:46:00.001-08:00

The stone she'd collected out of loose cliffs printed itself on the desktop. He set words of slack lakes onscreen, nose filled faintly of acid.

Pike

2009-02-14T15:55:00.000-08:00

The bridge was broken, just a causeway for squirrels, though underneath girls made promises to boys. She pointed them out, named them by their best feature--hair or eyes or breasts. A year ago, this time on open water, he'd named her too.

Interruption

2009-02-09T15:04:00.000-08:00

Afterward, her eyes started sharding the light, the view from the front door a modern cathedral. That dog is 47 types of brown, she told her husband. His forehead broke into 21 worries, though perhaps he only studied the faultless ceiling.

$1/4

2009-02-01T11:05:00.000-08:00

Here, he said, setting a quarter on the back of her hand. The coin was aglow, having spent winter under the ice out front. She touched the ribbon of its hair, the tropic motto.

A Cat's Walk

2009-01-26T07:58:00.001-08:00

very small dogs

Portrait I & II

picture msg

The Open Boat [S.C./D.H./J.Y.]

SAD LOOSE REMAIN

Nite

Envelopes

Envelopes

Oh sorry my heart was wrong

Merry Xmas from 13 Calves plus Naumann's LAAIR

Book of Latin Grammar

Mare Snow Said Week Late Pale Lake

The Human Age

Species of Civil War Ordnance (series of 8)

The expected guest (oracle)

Stations of the Cross

This novel as landscape

About Edward Mullany's If I Falter At The Gallows

Newton's Theory of Martyrdom (front and back)

Booklets II

Booklets

Chairs, south VA

Ossabaw show pics

Two new chapbooks

Work as landscape

Self Portrait as landscape

The Dentist as landscape

Paul Mitchell

The Stranger as landscape

4 things rather unrelated

Tongue Expressors

String day 5

String day 4

String day 3

String

Birnini Bed Sheets (The Rape of Proserpina)

The Potential Forest

the News

ART WORDS or WORD ARTS

A Bad Freaking Idea

Thrift store microfictions

Brand New Easter Rabbit Cover!

The Movie

An Acorn

Autobiography of Cat

Ready?

Arob and Polo

TextShop

2 new collages: Much Left (for LB) and 5 Lines Baltimore

My Vampire Novel, NAME

Early Record

Tag

Abundance

WordVerts™

My Life

Joseph Young

NO IDEAS FROM HERE

OF ALL 2,000 YEARS

LECTURES

JOSEPH YOUNG

Inbox/Easter Rabbit Release Party

Interview on The Signal

More From Stories Around People

Stories Around People

Chroma

The Geostroph/The Interstites

Jeff

If This Were Baltimore

Taxonomy, microfiction video

Easter Rabbit Collage

Easter Rabbit Trailer and Offers

Experiments with Young Fish

Easter Rabbit Available for Preorder

I'm Doomed: Hegel [and Me]

Easter Rabbit

Bridge/mural/microfiction/Boilini/Young/in progress

Hey Look, He Listens to Christian Rock

Deep Falls (2007-08)

Baltimore & Allegan Thruway

Wall Collage