I’m coining my work nomadic surrealist punk. Punk aesthetics determine the type of art punks enjoy, which typically has underground, minimalist, and satirical sensibilities. Nomadic travels. Nomadic cuttings. Naive art. Surrealist/irrealist/absurdist / conceptual. We could keep tacking on the labels. There’s freedom there, in the hybrids. That’s why I travel, really.
20,000 words into my book of hybrids (lyric essays, flash stories, prose poems, micro plays). It’s called The Planets. Some Mormonism. Some missions. Some craggy Northern Ireland. Some Martian Utah desert. Some pony tails. Some chums. Medieval London and Barcelona. The history of sound compression from Germany. Black hole miracles. The history of pockets. An experiment in fermentation. There is so much in there really.
Might as well call it a lyric essay.
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