kristine snodgrass

A Faith Ringgold Quilt Means

Dear Spiral,

How do you keep your circle of life in such a rambling monolith?  What part of was was?  If I could paint you a picture of tutelage and Romulus I would.  But, alas, vamped! 

(fuck the middle man, bunny)

We shall end up in the love of quilts and dharma and that shit will remain. 

(cursed summer!)




Neutral happens ultimate  being.    Salivate      priestly         capital Vonage!

We will fence together the coyotes and spank them.  We will permeate the boundar(ie) of mountain and brie and wire and ocean.

Lactation station, again 

Bells & Gongs

Dear MP,

I want my virginity back.  It has been enough time since the Madonna Del Parto (isn’t she lovely?) and I need my stuff back so I can recalculate the parsnips.  O, u know the ones!  Those grandmother used in her potato mash.  Those that lent themselves to Japanese watercolor.  Those that ran in the Sandia mountains.  Sin on a porta potty, Mike, or a chair over a young pool.  But, don’t video tape me. 


Pema Chodron


Tap Army

What is the pinpoint at the pool?  What swimming or sucking fills the stamps with a sponge?  You and I can sift away the laminating accusations.  Come on.

Progeny gargle through your moonlight.

Antipodal disingenuity. Kick, flipper. 

Remember: you can’t fight crazy in the prison yard 

Or in the prison lard, potato, that is.  Did we eat them all?  All those lovely girls marching in pink.  A tap army.

Meet the procession to the hot dog line.  Elder,

steam me through.  It’s all bounce house this

and bounce house that.

             Pronounce the shed as beyond all

  Holy misnomers.

Are we becoming the same?  Same, same?  Some maimed mononucleosis that formed in the hot tub.  O no.  Watch out for the floating vomit!  (That was your one exclamation).


Yes, the prehensile long jump, one, two,

then the grandparents march off one at a time, evolutionary steam-bowl.

There is a retched etching

–I wonder if you noticed –

(Creamsickle Camera

                                                             Optic of the gods).

Close mitochondrial periscope, blue-blue. 


Buy me pizza on this day and settle into your Wittgensteins and laminates.  We will be here or not—in the hot soiled malaise of a p-o-e-m. Such is the blue-blue

Idled in hair, pressed forward, eyelid.   In effect, to pieces.

Thus is the nature of our underwater relationship.

The fish-spun wonders [wrought splutters] wring late

Get the phone All-Eye!

Wink-goggles: the millennia drying up the lagoon.

Or floatooooooooon. Drift.

Then in to cadences, tap.

Then in to self assertions, tap.

Then IN to consecrations, TAP!

Lo the distance hums, as from a mass of tiny drums,

The fetal disengorge [two three four] a cheering, here it comes


Jay Snodgrass & Kristine Snodgrass

It gives me great pleasure to welcome to neil de la flor & maureen seaton La Fovea!