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4 Jul

by Raphael Moser

The crying and
Infiltrate with
A prurient pare
Of melons
How dare you

Cant I see it in the near future
Yet the kaleidoscope
Beguiling moss
No accusations
Maybe some constructive criticism

Violet Corridor

27 Jun

by Raphael Moser

White noise
In close quarters
Like that
A fractious cocoon
Bid run
Be it
Or change it
Don’t regret it

Stars Douse

20 Jun

by Raphael Moser

That was a terrible story
Thorny and fresh
I am sorry a mother had
To suffer her child
Fractured helpless in the desperation that it is your fault
It is your fault
Let it not be so
How to dissect this grief
I am parallel to the field of denial

Because the horizon is directly before me
I beseech myself
To replicate

Tread Lightly

13 Jun

by Raphael Moser

Innocence at that age is a strange creature
Urban wear etched a vacant holiday
Paradigmatic flurries dormant
A glacial bonfire
Risk adverse attends dust to dust
A parade of terminal heads
Pretense to the status quo
Issues blood orange a carnival of stealth
Flimsy reckoning


30 May

by Raphael Moser

Arbitrary synecdoche cactus field
Dark artica

Hurtling directly into your path
It’s the river synth
Pressed into a sentiment

Blinding disgorgement
Spherical particles cut tracks
Mute sea green

Polyphonous serpent sparkling


23 May

by Raphael Moser

He sought a DeKooning that he could obliterate
he worked with an erasure
it was the Dutch Haarlem Streets
the Belgium blocks
The Senseless binging
Drawing rigors

Claire’s Game

16 May

by Raphael Moser

The miner’s strike
Performed by a reenactment society
The artist stages the scene
The producer conducts a selective interview
With cutaways
Real life miners playing the part of miners
And cops
The BBC and the director
Fashioning a version to revive the working class
The live spectacle
Complete with 80’s favorite dance tunes
The blur of the good and bad cops
And sobriety with cheesy whimsy
Flayed the edges
Smoking bubbles

De K’s Landscape

9 May

by Raphael Moser

The place where sound worked its way
Admonishing as
The old soul manufacturing mourning in the firelight
Architectural paradise
Green reflections of crisp


25 Apr

by Raphael Moser

A behavior is engaged in. A bottle of water is drunk a can of soda is completed, an ice cream bar is eaten, gum is chewed. The husk of desire is debris. WJJ glues colored plastic chips on the scars of these objects. He twists the empty bottle and ties a ribbon with hearts around this scar. A sign of the untouched. These scars are imposed on voided objects. The colored fragments look perfect from afar. Photographs of the restored objects magnify the sculptures ten thousand times. Cracks are visible,sweet things fail. He places the sculpture in front of the photograph. The sculpture sees its flaws. The sculptures are self-portraits. Fetish objects. When the sculpture is confronted with the poverty of its façade WJJ is de-kitschified. The outside world is taken by shiny things. Kitsch pendants with American Flags made in unregulated Chinese factories. Liberty is a tall tale.

A Small Blue Hand Ball

18 Apr

by Raphael Moser
I caught a small blue hand ball ten times in one hand with latex finger coverings. It made a slapping noise and the juxtaposition between the energetic assertion of the ball to the medicinal odor of latex created a paradox.

On catching ball unencumbered by cover the sharp staccato moments in the clasp shot through a burst of adrenaline and put me in a good mood.

A small garden glove with silvery threads that my father gave me covered my left hand as I caught the small ball ten times. I rejected the notion that the sentimental is automatically a negation of a universal good.

I caught the ball ten times free handed. Sometimes It landed by my thumb and sometimes it landed in the palm of my hand. My momentum seems to have diminished. Maybe its because I am feeling sentimental.

Wearing a black leather and thinsulate glove on my left hand, I caught the ball ten times. It seemed to be the most assertive and accurate coordination. The bulky finger coverings served as a huge claw overtaking the ball

Standing up I caught the ball free handed ten times. I thought of Richard Serra, Hand Catching Lead. My hand moved like a film strip, automatically and consistently.


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