Biography of s./j. goldner
how you compose what you organize is where the art comes in.
What lasts is the
interpretation of beauty
and not beauty itself
Unhinged and uncanny
poetic and prolific
blindsighted by inhibition
curtailed by ambition.
Trailing her dissolving glory over each hard-won barricade -
Only to fade anew..
I never saw a wild thing,
Sorry for itself.
A small bird will dropp dead from a bough,
Without ever having felt sorry for itself.
- D.H. Lawrence
I know something now
About subject, object, verb
And about one word that fails
For lack of substance.
- Fanny Howe
Turn away; check your manicure;
Pull on your gloves. Take time; make sure
The hat brim curves though the hat's straight.
Give her your arm. Let the fools wait;
They act like they've someplace to go.
Take the stairs, now. Self-control. Slow.
A slight limp; just enough to see,
Pass on, and infect history.
The rest is silence. Left like sperm
In a stranger's gut, waiting its term,
Each thought, each step lies; the roots spread.
They'll believe in us when we're dead.
When we took 'Red Berlin' we found
We always worked best underground.
So; the vile body turns to spirit
That speaks soundlessly. They'll hear it.
And the dream - and once, I remember,
it seemed I was the dream -
the dream tilts up to pour me out.
- William Matthews
I am impossible, I know it,
a fan with a clattering blade loose,
a car with no second gear.
it's not really quantity
it's more about versatility
Ultimate conundrum 1
Ultimate conundrum 2
wants to fuck;
the mind doesn't.
Ultimate conundrum 3
I'm exhausted from being
and fed up
with being someone I'm not.
She left a note on the bedroom door.
''If I'm out, bring me to.'' - james d. morrison
There is another world,
but it is in this one. - Paul Eluard
As the knife-grinder pedals and pedals,
You whisper: I know nothing
Of what became of her. - Cyrus Cassells
What pattern governs this surface, inscrutable as the ocean?
s./j. goldner Poems
21 and rising
my words fill in blank memories, while images of you stay fresh like ocean air— weaved in my soul like the braids of my hair.
I'd like to spend April, sitting on a hill, With a mushroom for a parasol and violets
Some say I may just be Stretching my wings. “Oh don’t worry, she’s just Stretching her wings.
a rose in Birth
I'm a disgrace to the life I lived as a girl— she would be ashamed to have me in the world.
you go to a nice grade school an even nicer high school you go off to a decent university
3: 17 am: I have just realized
These poems have come Without a bottle A shot A pint
Great passion confined To a small area.
When you put your ass into a poem People know it.
The artist is the artist is the lover is the destroyer is the creator.
When that music hits all eyes swarm Who is this girl kickin’ it To the beat right on time Leg warmered shins flyin’
Purple Dusk Of Twilight Time
The spent-fortune of the few who loved, a catechism of archaic thigh & position: Drinking from their breasts the rich glow of origin in forbearance—once abundant along the shores
a No-Show Drive-in
they come to my house, passionate lovers; have not quite turned the cusp to manhood —with great heads of hair
God forbid! a girl admits she’s lonely. But for a guy? —Oh, that’s so sexy. God forbid! a woman’s never been with the same man For more than 3 months
40 oz to conformity
“Rat tat tat, ” storm winds at your door, Harmonies of nature Parade across the floor Valiant in this
You cannot make people see evil
even if you blaze it from a 10,000
volt football stage.
It’s not as defined as in the books
we read growing up. It’s hidden,
out of view—operates behind closed doors
After gaining the approval in the public
Eye. And the truthful ones are silenced.