Arsenal of Words

The Writing of Arthur Klepchukov

Tag: spoken word

Edgemoor

Night is like a song that you can’t see
so you make up scenery to fill the gaps
between fluorescent highways. and forests possible.
Figments of figs twist with twigs into
nocturnal architectures of confusing beauty.
Headlights slice into your eyes and ruin
the surprise so you return to sound
of foggy rain and smoky tears,
trying to fit between the droplets
without feeling cold or found. and failing.
World exposed as just imagination but
your faith blooms, believing
makes the secrets breathe.
Traffic rolls across eyelids like
tracks of fading bright and wet tails
across the windshield. and when
you peek again you find only rubies
staring back like mute, unblinking fireflies
and you know you’re driving blind
no matter how wide your spies are open.

Listen to me read Edgemoor:

(If you don’t see anything above, listen to the track on SoundCloud.)

Blinks of Awe Beyond the iPad

So far only poetry lovers with iPads have been able to read blinks of awe, my new poetry book. People without an iPad can now get a better peek at the poetry in the book, which you can see, touch, and hear. I also want to learn where else people want to experience this kind of work. So please check out the samples below and voice your opinion!

Read the rest of this entry »

Color Me Synesthesia (audio)

Here’s a recording of a poem I published a month ago, Color Me Synesthesia:

(If you don’t see anything above, listen to the track on SoundCloud.)

before, I was but a pencil line
_______________, simple little stroke,
lacking even a squiggle but you
you traced me well, gave me depth & Definition
a flair of ink, a dash of curve~ discovered
fingerprints with graphite, the shade of skin
with lead of many shades of gray,
revised my irises until they
were circles perfect, filled the lashes black
until they could.blink.perception, molded my cheeks
in the sculpture of touched joy or bliss,
trimmed my hair into a shapes of soft,
kissed grayscale lips until breath dribbled deep
inside and I learned to sing, tickled my ears
until they began to touchWords, danced by my nose until
   inhaling became a new addiction,
crosshatched an outline of a heart,
and looked beyond the eyes until/blinking/wasn’t/necessary.
And then I tasted color.
It warmed my skin until a sunburn was seductive.
Red seeped in and seduced my bloodstream,
pumping passion to the corners of existence.
Spilled blue all over my jeans. Flung yellow
at my skin to make orange orbs that shrunk into
peach pores covered in light brown forests of “oh”.
I heard every hue. And touched invisible.
Turned up the volume until I saw green waves of sound.
Showered me with lights until I tasted purple.
Danced with scent into a real dream.
Morphed my background to a limitless canvas. Created new dimensions to
raise me
from
the page. Invented time. so I could. slow down. and smell
memory. We peeked at infinity
the day you started to color me in.

Forever June (audio)

In the spirit of Why You Should be Recording Your Poetry, here is a recording of my last poem, Forever June:

(If you don’t see anything above, listen to the track on SoundCloud.)

Can’t it be forever June, forever new
ever curious, passion like
a just lit flame, faces, features
quirks all unfamiliar, all unremembered names
Can’t we be forever in debut, forever unexplored
a thousand little sticks huddled at the edges of the flame
Can’t the fire stay humble and stay hungry
Can’t fueling now be our only destination
Can’t the question marks survive
Can’t the sparks stay sparks
Can’t it be forever chapter one
more unlived, unread, more imagined rather
than embraced after it’s death

Can’t we take photos
never to look at them again
keep the moment uncaptured &
untainted from the concept : time
Don’t need memory if this energy survived
Can’t we remain untouched
just to taste initial contact, every sigh
Can’t we be new friends
and can’t friends never choose to die
Can’t we be young and foolish
unexplained souls bursting from inside
Can’t we stay simply undefined, unlabeled, uncertain by design

Can’t the mysteries remain
details unrevealed, curiosity perpetually raw &
daring in the moments before hearts collide
Can’t the flame burn forever muse
smoke forever twisting into sky
Can’t first waves roll on and on unbroken
Can’t leaves be bronze that never fades
Can’t snow be first snow every time
Can’t petals always be in bloom
Can’t it be forever June.

If you read the original version last week, you can see the poem has evolved even further. Recording is definitely a surprising part of the editing process.