•All Day Shred•
At Carbon Noise Poetry I captain a feisty team of fellow writers. Our posts are informed and passionate. My greatest strengths lie in scene setting, descriptive language, and truing a scenario into tantalizing proportions.
Skills: Multimedia and video production — including writing, producing, camera work, and digital editing. Many years of experience in 35mm film and digital photography. I was also a freelance writer for five years through the Portland, Oregon based, Community Newspapers.
Specialties: Digital video editing, graphic design, and photography. My greatest love of all is the art of copyediting and its conjoined sibling, proofreading. The crafty examination of a document, novel, or poem is inthralling work.
Material burns and cells ignite as people scream down overlong regimes fueled only by pride or greed-power or lazy entitlement of self-possessed brutal men who lack real value and self-confidence so force their fearful weakness on those they were meant to support and to lead while I sit discontent and overwhelmed spewing or drooling or dumping words in the disguise of poetry over the noisy ether. This my voice of moments passing for others striving until dying and I’m as useless as a beakless vulture with an empty stomach and lidless eyes bulging.
If ever there was a time for the sick poets, it is now.
Too many people inhabit Earth. We need to reduce the population. To tears? To zero? To a 1970’s level? Should we offshore the homeless to the moon Europa? Or a giant space station in orbit? Or perhaps relocate the wealthy to Mars…?
The answer to all of these questions is no. Or, well, maybe. The rich to Mars, anyway. No, it’s no. The answer is no. We need a comprehensive disease, one to affect all people. One to unite them in the close quarters of overpopulation. We need to inflict everyone with the sickness of poetry. Poetry will render every person with the domain of infinite space and time.
Each man, woman, and child a king of infinite space, you ask? Yes, in close quarters. In the beautiful openness of the poetic word and phrase. Yes, in Hamlet’s metaphoric nutshell, humans may survive the future.