Wednesday, November 25, 2015

If you are in southern Minnesota and need some writing journals or sketchbooks, stop in at MAFAC! (updated January 15, 2016)




Painted Journals by James D. Autio:

*sold

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Handmade sketchbooks by Storm D. Autio:

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Saturday, November 21, 2015

Autumn in Minnesota







Radical Dislocations: weird poems by the best underground poets

Caesura coda.

Wiener.
Sister’s wiener lay on sand.
Beach fire and burnt stick. Wiener in hand, she ran.
Cold wave took away. Sister stand.
Watch wiener
float slow.

Potato.
Wrap in foil.
Burrowed into beach. Loaded mortar:
Dropped potato into hole. Covered over.
Piled driftwood dry.
Hour fire.

Sand sear.
Little feet. Sun scorch.
Frolic jaunt over blister burn.
Run for water. Pause a bit.
Wee paws on beach towel.
Teary sear abate.

Old log.
Exhumed. Rolled.
Floated out. Little legs.
Little butt. Ladybug.
Log near going under.
Pulled back to shore.

We have mallow.
Slow sloth seep.
Descend from stick tip.
Mallow sizzle on glow coal.
Tear sear now
slow abate.

Dead father.
Made ash in oven.
Made mix with sand.
Made ash on hand. Sister’s son ran:
Cold lake wave rinse. We grown,
wipe paw. Lemon-scent
wetnap.




Delirious Ham

Delirious ham
glaze in rain haze hung
heavy in a gallon sack
of prevalence jellied throwback
and pleasement. Already put outside 
all pointed and existing detail to sharpen 
partially subordinate furrows.
Had coffee with pie.

Delirious ham
that which for no better been.
Verges on the river cushion. Poling
with pill bottle clutch and muffin
doily under the knees. Sneak beer
bottle from a toilet tank, brainpan
merge to please via glottal halt.
Top pull over new tit.

Delirious ham
while bent a brain putty to jut 
span a high back, blush. Wood 
to further her and drive home.
Shoe by door. Sock slip
on slick floor. Board splinters 
tan a hide. Fallowed. Warm pat
eased down the butterside.

Delirious ham
tender plate near potato, bun. 
Hide by soot jacket and trouser. 
Carrot rod in sugar sheen. Sip the milk 
from lead crystal. Lick of the serve tray. 
Undercover of linen, tush and boot 
are tapping up the youngerside.
Wash back another percocet.



Interrogative

SQUID ACCUSED: Pretty Paulie said I stole her hat, but I’m a cephalopod for Chrissake!

CONSTABLE: You’re naught but a grotty siphon suckling on society’s teat.

SQUID ACCUSED: Mother may have made me, but society has me tugging at the dugs. I’m only squid in hoodie by accusatory gaze, not amoral nature. As a rule I only tipple in sips.

CONSTABLE: And yet, esophageal tissues constricted. You draw sustenance from―

SQUID ACCUSED: I draw mouthsquirt from only the cold grey underbelly!

CONSTABLE: And consuming the clamskin that undergirds our community!

SQUID ACCUSED: My lips may indeed pucker and wrench the stiffened nipple of the nocturnal city, yet the daylight dwellers have nothing to fear from me.

CONSTABLE: Still, you are emptying the mother’s breast. You might wish you were yet a wee babe on mummy’s lap?

SQUID ACCUSED: I’m made sickly viridescent by those juices of remembrance. Back at the old house, the sea has covered the lawn.

CONSTABLE: You now eschew the power of the squid?

SQUID ACCUSED: No, I live with what I am. Mother’s tentacles reach out from the fetid waters. There is no denying from where I came.

CONSTABLE: Surely that water ebbs then recedes?

SQUID ACCUSED: I’m still a sieve in the sluice, entrenched.

CONSTABLE: I see now. Left feebled and wan, lip-groping with mouthrot.

SQUID ACCUSED: Yes! Vincent’s angina. Mother passed it with her kiss.

CONSTABLE: Mum’s not to blame for your poor choices!

SQUID ACCUSED: From just below the surface, her dead black eyes stare out. They watch.

CONSTABLE: She too was born of the sea. Indeed, squids’ arms are many and suctioned.

SQUID ACCUSED: So me, cursed from the outset.

CONSTABLE: But sink or swim. You chose to crawl from the mire, to walk into town on two legs.

SQUID ACCUSED: My evolution required proximity to people.

CONSTABLE: The city exists for community. Unfortunate it is that the moor drains its progeny here.

SQUID ACCUSED: Yes, the bog absolves itself via lavage.

CONSTABLE: You belong back with the sedge: nightdress and dark, eely tentacles groping for moonglow, not neighbor’s pocketbook.

SQUID ACCUSED: My purse ran low on wampum.

CONSTABLE: So you come to town, nick a bit from strangers, and then blame Mum for what you’ve become?

SQUID ACCUSED: I did it for my Mother. She might’ve looked fine in Pretty Paulie’s hat.

CONSTABLE: You were caught in the commission of a petty crime. Why not run when I fired warning shots?

SQUID ACCURSED: I took a bullet through the neck.

CONSTABLE: Ah, yes. I hear you breathing through the hole.





The Itinerant Airship

I balustrade the itinerant airship. I am dilaudid amuse en scène.
Resold snake meat as that of the shaven fish, taken down the dead 
to make her wigs, rorschach quandary of doing the what now
to be live. Wear. Liminal. Wrapt intaglio labia like a woolen pillar.
She of me. Bare to stir dread with white still, whole and throttle.
Breathe la nouvelle vague and the drop hat in a silent dawn
haven of blanket plush and pills. Break egg in a hot pan. Bird
on the sill with feed in beak and rooster lord on the back coop
all cackly and such. Trainyard and town square barrow hawk ruckus.
Naught but the butter dish near the plum puff. And the coffee bean
percolator on a tick gas range. And the twisted dishcloth. And the
pill down kick a ride river of juice to choke back sleep residual. I’ve
had my putties’ break brought to fleece via chilly dip, she and me
naked in the quarry foam, bare ass between the leaf shadow curious eye
and Dutch parceled twinge. Later, paint vaginal sprawl across canvas
and a hard crick at the forehand free of persona. I’m wan. I am the other
face, boat broken askew over rock shore back where color bleed
and rain flow like of a hose. I am fused of an afternoon filtered through
a lattice of deck craggle and lowered to the compromise hold. Water
cold where it lap at her back brought by drip kick of thorazine treat did.
She gone and dress wet. She near. She me. Shear the lamb and smack
pink haunch as it lay crooked upon the altar, and come inside. Dark
where I hold this. She after with ear to the old plaster. Voices, closet
door on a squeak hinge, and jazz dance like a heave on the offbeat.
This be me with face sheen slight on bent glass, glazing chipped
at the jamb. She too be of me, for the fissure crack arose to give.
The thrush peck pulled bug and blown seed further weaken me. I’m
all apart. In a strange town on a washout street, scuttle from glare
of God beam while every carriage wheel whimper like a newborn. Stare.
I’m both that caul and in-pined, of the spilt afterbirth and worm riddled.
I loved a girl once. She married a man and bore him children. Though
of pound and passersby I’d have put my head to her critch spur
and sleep, patsy pillow breathe soft under me. The itinerant airship.
Labial suction. Gentle queef. Hide I do like a vole in a cello. More pill
in the dark resound chamber. Skull bone dome split and the meats within
effervesce, buoyant foam at the edge and on dine. I may still be of face
to her nook. Could be even me only. Could be semiotic in a wooden bowl
with a ginger press. Had I wooden leg. Float in a tube of neon effluence.
Imminent from the top down and collar skewed to the wonk edge,
flapper and pillbox cut decorative mesh. I raise my umbrella. Fat drops
pad upon seal skin page like chub fingers of a dozen hungry beadles
eager for the group plate age. Each tap an echo now. The sound. Slow.
Just me from under looking out as rain balls float in damp air, smog
particle swirl inside once left air afloat from the coal burn furnace.
Now in wee ball, cobbled street and patisserie inversion held over
sky water, airship slow like move shadow below. There she jimmied
between orbs. Wind rise. I gout lip. She wide eye hole. Custodial
baton rises out from open manhole. Pank sack pulled back and thread.
She quick to fetch a key and retreat instead. I cross the street.
Notion and I’m back astoop and knocking at her door. Stitched.
Jiggle the mail lever. I’m still and sliding out of face. Pressed
to plexiglas with essential nightjar and whitethroat tidy in my ruined
mulberry ducal. I’m restrung in sticky nettles with a whistle past
and a furry ball drupe burden bear on, thrown a bundle and wear
a wide-brimmed hat. Spinach mushroom risotto bed with salmon paste
wafting past. You take a pinch of light through the mail slot, spin
like sugar fibre twine and laid out. Our molecules dissolve. I lamb
baste the knothole, struck dumb and blue in the broken dusk breach
of lilac bloom plank. But to stone step and fish for clutch of dilaudid.
She of me somewhere, deep in the putty, leather pump caught
in my corpus collosum and await for her own fix to kick. Thorazine
to quiet voice. Benzedrine stash in the chifforobe. Cabriole foot
carved of hickory bough, brain lake laid wait awash and indicate
threaded filter of wood slat that intricate poise, tire. Incise design
on the velvet paw. I wait on ease, endorphin or any old opioid
neuropeptide flowage. Thorazine quiet her and I’m alone. Still.
Trousers soaked on the cold wet stone. Home. Or near home
but can’t get in. Door blocked, angel brain shot via vein and grant
no access. Though she be me. The itinerant airship flow by above
my throttle put. Ballast and batten, wordshed leaden and barren.
Start dragging the grapple hook bone socket down from the hulk,
long soul cord to snag the slouching crookback, head down as
despair button favour the blind grope and muffle occasion.
Dirigible recalls tendril and floats on. Swallow one last dilaudid.
Ache ease. Skull break like a breakfast egg, inner skin and cerebrum.
She inside dissolve now down to puddle stain on the foyer floor.
Sun slip behind tree strand and eyeball flatten. She of whether apart.

Splendid daffodil lit by gaslight along an edge of the balustrade.




published in:

Monday, July 6, 2015

James D. Autio - MN Artists website


Dried Cranberry on Twine


Iced the nightlong buttercup
                        plumage. Shall turret the tin

ooze. In this rubble of bear
                        leather strung as rather had

spent heirlooms. On those
                        ledges pour berry by pawed

bumpers in the flatten fabric
                        the fluting hung to. There is

our generations birthing out
                        from a carved bone of pearl.

Cerebrum mold strange let.
                        Scraped the bare head yield.

There are claws of common
                        lid put to decorative necks.

There are torn dimensions
                        through which bear tenders

spirit swaddled. We within
                        are dried cranberry pause is

that rouge and blent radiant
                        with a transparent air piece.

That held taut this charmed
                        twirl by the bear is blue eyed.