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Showing posts from October, 2017

STEPHEN HARMON ,NEW 2017 PAINTINGS ,sizes;12"x16",mixed mixedmedia on canvas

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Tangled up in blue,16x20,mixed on canvas Yellow Abstraction, hanging in Austin Visual Arts Association juried show,October 2017 Smearing red,Hanging in the Limner Gallery,Hudson, New York,2017

STEPHEN HARMON RESUME

STEPHEN HARMON 1518 Old Ranch Road 12, Apt. 808 San Marcos, TX 78666                                                 Cell:    (785) 477-9810 stephenharmon1@gmail.com             EDUCATION: MFA , Creative Writing – Poetry                                                                (expected)   2015 Texas State University-San Marcos, San Marcos, TX Thesis Title: Künstlerroman ...

POEM-The Ruin

The Ruin Wrought-like are those wall-stones;       Wyrd , which had broken – bolstered city burst –                 embrowning of giants’ work. roofs sink, are wrecked,            ruined are the towers, grime-gate bereft,                     grime-ice on limestone, 5          shard of shower-block               shorn and dropping, old and undereaten.                   Earth-grasp has the worker-wielder,            forweary, learing, gone hard to gripping crust,...

POEM-Alauding Late to Finnegans Wake

Alauding Late to Finnegans Wake What lovely obscenery, one blindscop said, Poering over the woruld sheer, and how it iswas, One gaslit gorehouse of contemporancient grins All billiowy, all willbully gleaned From the merest waste. Such sproutage! And in one senselust pervework recordwrit His funtempestry for which Clarity approaches tenwaves, prying all the damns to our fluidy appreception, Whan thrill sich clamborous musifraction sang, flashing, coalescent, brief, Goldfleshing through the grit of the earthpoem, Echoing all with adoration the allalluring echoation Omnipresented and unended. I see the earthwork seastirring With light yspoked and mutable And blentwords overbrimmed. His knotty, noughty wiseworldthing Touched the teatility of some sibyl Mind, and found nothing thin.

POEM-The Woman

The Woman Olympia , Les Demoiselles , de Kooning’s One Represent less them but, in their looks, the man looks With curious terror at handlers of the forms That force her. I’m sorry. Brick quiet, quicker walk —The spoken looks chasm us, hooded sights. To render: Reduce, but—what resonates and means—surplus where Nothing fits. Fleshstrips, swipegreen, slabbed capital grey, Goatfoot, olympaic brow, adgirl snarl: she shakes The frame. I threat, I sit. The bench is cold. I look Everywhere else thinking around things.

POEM-Dawn

D awn In the brack of open                                                                                                 Ceres comes. Does haze? How do the eyes?                                                 So could   ...