I have started a blog called DON’T FOG THE FEELERS with fellow Write Bloody poet Michael Roberts.

The idea is for us to just go wild, feel a pulse, write the pulse.The words can swim in cyberspace and later, if we want to go back and edit and brush the poems off and sew them up into neat little collections… with our names on them, then we can.

But for now, you can stick your nose against the glass, peer in and wait for someone–a man, a woman, a former president or volleyball champ to walk by the window nude.

Enjoy, friends.

Cheers,

Paul & Michael

http://dontfogthefeelers.posterous.com

One evening, I wondered if you’d not be coming back here. Here is where I have been, three years on our birth month. I am sitting down or walking slowly. Lately reminding myself go easy. I think all about this place as I go. Strange thoughts of New York, thoughts one oftentimes can’t sort out until one is someplace else.

And so, I am at an old style ice cream shop past midnight. Thinking of last time here with Jeremy and Katherine. He licked her fingers and I thought it was sweet. When I forget her name, I just think of the way he says it. How he loves her in the way he sounds it out: KAA-thrin. all drawn out and from his belly. You were in Mexico, and I had your car. You were to climb an ancient pyramid, and the day was warm. The day was sticky, and I would drive a long while to find us a home by the river.

The ice cream shop is now closed, and we have found our home. I sit here out in front in hat and sweater with the end of a cone on my nose to make the ice cream shop worker laugh as he takes out the trash after counting the till. He doesn’t notice and so I laugh at myself. A couple walk past and turn back to me, a real smiling young couple. The guy is holding a small pizza box, and he asks: “Are you hungry? Do ya like pizza?” I say I do like pizza but I am not hungry and thank you. I think they thought I am homeless but how? I suppose I may be until my rivertown arrival. Like you said, Until we get a bed.

I wonder: how do you feel about the passage of time, like freights. The energy of things. I reckon it’s just perfect. Ater the kid asked if I were hungry, my St. Michael and Christ fell to the ground. I picked them up and kissed them just like you said to.

I looked out the window onto the East River. The window was spotted with rain, and dust stuck onto the rain spots. Greezy fingered fat kid smudges lined the other side, and the East River looked snow covered in April. I asked my self, “hey, self– you gone nuts?”

I remember thinking it was because I was under the Heavy Circus Tents and I’d only come out of it to try and rescue my true love from the Mean Reds. Those bastards had come along with the Sword Swallower to mesmerize her again, and steal the springtime from her mind.

So I thought it fine to put them Mean Reds right into me. Made for a glorious wintry vision on a comfortless Manhattan afternoon. I think: Christ, fifty years of us could be interesting this way. It could be beautiful.

It’s been snowing. My land is like a broken pony. It begins to silence itself and stays behind the fences with huge whiteness. When the sun breaks in through the silken black  trees, the snow from the past three days hits one with a huge blinding Pacific Northwest explosion of gorgeousness and rebirth.

And when one gathers all resolve and layer of cloth, to step out into the new sun and onto the white ground, the legs tremble like that little colt before the taming: though the sun is warm and melts the snow, the soft suffering knees are yet frozen and the feet do not want to get wet.

Before I did go outside in the snow-padded silence, with which the earth gains the acoustics of a sound-proof room, I sat in my little room thinking of the beautiful ones. I looked out the window and watched steam rise from behind the backyard fence: coming from nowhere, meaning nothing except: something is still, quite warm in the cold. I stepped out onto the front porch, from within a house one hundred and fifty years old. I saw the deep footprints left behind by a pretty girl who’d come and gone soundlessly. I heard the vagueness of a train whistle in the clear, and became ready to go out into the day and through the night.

WEDS, APRIL 8, 2009
The Good Things About America NYC Release.
@ Bowery Poetry Club. 8PM.
308 Bowery
New York, NY 10012

Featuring: Paul G. Maziar, Derrick Brown, Sparrow Hall, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Shappy and more!

Hello New York!

I am back in Brooklyn, after having spent the past four months in Portland, OR, working on my new book, The Exploding Pen. Boy, do I ever have stories.

Please come out & help me celebrate NYC with the Write Bloody man Derrick Brown. He’s got an amazing new book coming out, SCANDALABRA, and he’ll be reading that with me alongside twice in BKLYN next week. All the info is below for yas.

xox
P

THURSDAY, JAN 15
8:30pm - 8:45pm
Spoonbill & Sugartown Booksellers
218 Bedford Ave
Brooklyn, NY

INFO:
Derrick Brown will read selections from SCANDALABRA.
Paul G. Maziar will read bits from WHAT IT IS: WHAT IT IS.
A quick little invasion, for fans and potential Write Bloody readers…
Come by and ask Derrick about his weatherman days!

–

SATURDAY, JAN 17
8:00pm - 10:00pm
Sound Fix Lounge
110 Bedford Ave (at N. 11th)
Brooklyn, NY

SCANDALABRA Book Release Party!

DERRICK BROWN
and the Navy Gravy
performing from his new book, SCANDALABRA

PAUL G. MAZIAR
and Chase Pagan
performing from his upcoming book, The Exploding Pen.

Musical performances by

MOTEL MOTEL
Chase Pagan
+ The Beau Jennings Band

This is a FREE Event, come get nasty.

Hello world,

I’m doing gigs this month in Portland, on December 13– and in Seattle, on the 14th. The shows are with Drew Grow & Katrina Skalland with The Pastors’ Wives. It’s gonna be real good. They’ll accompany me, and hell, you never know– Black Flag might be there. 

In other news, I’m finishing my new book, The Exploding Pen with Mark Penxa this month– look for that in January, along with gigs with Derrick Brown and Chase Pagan.

Write to me, say hi, let me know how you’re doing.
Love,
Paul

Greetings, Portland friends.

I’m out here, working on the new book, The Exploding Pen, going nuts! Come out and see me this Friday (November 7) at The Funky Church. I’m doing readings with the fantastic folksinger from Philly, Denison Witmer. The show also will have performances by Day of Lions and Kelli Schaefer

Some more great news: PASTE Magazine’s Charles McNair has done a very kind review of  WHAT IT IS: WHAT IT IS. Paste is definitely one of my favorite magazines out there, check it out in print, and online HERE.

nyc-love-you-long-time

I’m so psyched to announce, I’m doing a book release event to celebrate the fantastic new Write Bloody books that just came out:

August, 16 @ Sound Fix Lounge
Write Bloody Publishing Presents:

SEX, BOOKS, & ROCK ‘N’ ROLL… BUT MOSTLY BOOKS

Readings by Write Bloody Authors
Victor D. Infante, Lea C. Deschenes,
Brian S. Ellis, and Paul G. Maziar
Signings/Q&A, plus Musical Acts - FREE!

Write Bloody Authors read from their new books:
Victor D. Infante’s City of Insomnia
Lea Deschenes’ The Constant Velocity of Trains
Brian S. Ellis’ Uncontrolled Experiments in Freedom
And Paul G. Maziar’s WHAT IT IS: WHAT IT IS

110 Bedford Ave, Brooklyn, New York 11211
Cost : FREE - www.soundfixrecords.com