Poetry Month 2016 | Fragments of Michael Dickel Water Poems (a poem) Flowstone Time (a poem) SNR—Hybrid Word Dance Veiled Lady (a poem) My Brand Here (Hybrid Flash) Rosy Morn | Poem | Essay | Photographs Blue Notes (collage | poem) The BeZine April 2016 — Celebrating Poetry […]
Rosy photographs, rosy poems, and a discussion of poetry—hybrid writing: poem-essay-digital photography.
This hybrid (poem-marketing-non-fiction) flash experimental writing by Michael Dickel explores our commodified society, where commerce rules via the high priests of MBA-think. Go ahead. Buy into it. “Brand” yourself. And remember, slaves and cattle are also branded. Brand-name recognition recklessly pursued in the name of prophets of the profit margin.
I stood. I stared. The guard harumphed. But I wanted to touch the light of mystery.
McLuhan was right. My (re)formulation: Noise = Medium = Signal = Message | Signal to Noise Ration(al)(ity) embodies our overloaded information technology society and its marketeering bandits.
What secret stories do stalactites tell? How does history hear geologic memory?
Broken cliffs, crashing water, quiet spirit. Three short poems related to water.
Adeena Karasick and Michael Dickel will host an exciting tour of Israel that will hit highlights but also delve into the unusual. Throughout, the tour will inspire, prompt, encourage you to write with workshops, performances, and lots of deep language play.
Any passage (metaphorically or literally) contains within it its messengers, its struggles, its need for wrestling.
In the developing neuro-network, gaia, quantum determinism
unfolds into refracted realities, glimmering sparks, momentum
of free will…
Winter window Outside the opportune window one pink head survives above geranium leaves blowing in the winter wind, covered with cold rain dropped from dimmed desire. The basil released its hope in the face of the war— forces of December and January— mere stalks rising above the window box, darkly silhouetted, […]
Three One lies restless in the small hours, the dead of night— three in the morning and worried about medical motorcycles whizzing past a wife on her way home from work this evening— distressed about tear gas and bullets fired into Gazans at the border fence West Bank rioters— hounded […]
She’s slept for a couple of years, nearly, but the woman with a beard has asked to return, and I have obliged her and the toad whose garden she sometimes tends. They can be most insistent. If you have not read some of her history, you can search […]
I wrote the first draft of this poem twenty years ago, give or take a few months. Although I have sent it out many times, it never seems to have caught an editor’s attention. So, time to let it fly on its own here. Perhaps you will see […]
“Lately I’ve been waiting for the FBI to arrest me as a fraud,
or the CIA to hire me to spy on the inner lives of fools and idiots.”
Summer Summer prattles on like a chorus of croaking frogs about all of its deep pleasures with open desire, while winter indulgently listens, knowing the strength of her own secrets. Parties all unfold this way. Spring tries to enchant, while fall quietly stands by, his eyes glinting with […]
“Michael Dickel’s new book is an explosive tour de force. From Breaking News to all that shivers beneath the surface, it takes us on a visceral ride as the rockets are falling through screaming surfaces, tunnels cease fires and death tolls; rocketing all night through missiles, mortars, sensors, sirens, […]
3 poems, in English, on Margutte: Non-rivista online di letteratura e altro. http://ow.ly/Nh14f