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Danny Baker
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Danny Baker

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‘A poem is never about one thing… you want it to be as complicated as your feelings': Terrance Hayes at NYT http://ow.ly/2Wufc1
Wow! The New York Times Magazine hosts this very comprehensive, thought-provoking profile of fantastic, Pittsburgh-based legend Terrance Hayes (by Stephen Burt). If you haven’t ever read Hayes’s work, Burt’s article is a uniquely insightful opportunity to learn more. From NYT: Fifty students sat at bright white desks in concentric rows in the sterile new computer [...]
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Buk eating The Mint. 
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Thanks, Danny.
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"I thought we're an autonomous collective!" 

One of the best scenes in the history of comedy, in my opinion. Freaking Monty Python.
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How can you not???
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The Incomparable Marko Hartenbach!
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The History of One Tough Motherfucker he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and terrorized a white cross-eyed tailless cat I took him in and fed him and he stayed grew to trust me until a friend drove up the drivewa...
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l.a. suicide blues strung out on existential blanket in the wind
 
author of my own cliché, descending
a slick timeworn bannister.
holding on by a string, less than a string, to which
a mournful, soft gust could tear connection to
the larger web, tangle
of charred deception
of hostile premature maturity
of post mortem for youth before life
of forcefed malodorous preconception.
a mournful, soft gust that were it to alter course,
upends root from host,
reveals primary cause, or
splatters ancillary effect, latter
to be self evident upon discovery.
irreversible finale, not grand- last thread of
the overcast prism, sow's purse of silken ear.
ear that never heard.
ear deaf to that missed in closing credits.
a mournful, soft gust lopes onto the bloody canvas.
any hope that was, lost
to fateful insinuation. perhaps
to coincidental fate, clinging
to the ornate web i wove, sailing atop
silent wings of fly by night to
another's aura on the nape of sour breaths.
none, no hope, had ever been found in
the stuttering tripe.
i, me- author of cliché
bleeding intractable self pity,
parched for serotonin or
a best left unenunciated offramp.
counting the ways to
leave this city
right where she found me
so as to quiet us both into
a false sense of security.
the closing horizon's lullaby
to back-alley self-deceit,
unprepared to jump the train
until spikes & ties
issue the platitude, as if
it were some challenge or dare.
ashes to dust, if only to save time.
bloated santa ana blows
a mournful, soft gust thru still, broken night.
dystopic epiphany birthing its dream
under corrupt searchlight
ensuring graphic detail
of even vaguest blur. waking to
reality, truth duplicitously harsh,
despite rainbow packaging, eventually
revealing spider veins, futile struggle,
before it all fades to black.
 
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I've learned not to throw a firm answer at publicly posted vague statements, ha!
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Good times exploring your bat cave. 😘
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Have him in circles
176 people
Adrian Bobis's profile photo
Mounting Solutions Plus's profile photo
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Jesse Mitchell's profile photo
Angel Perales's profile photo
Lena Vanelslander's profile photo
Apryl Skies's profile photo
ron androla's profile photo
henry murray's profile photo
Work
Occupation
Writing fighting & charming few.
Skills
Antagonizing static particles.
Story
Tagline
Existential nihilist though I'm open to suggestions.
Introduction

Copy/Pasted Bio:


Pushcart and Sundress Award nominee, Danny Baker, was raised in L.A. landing him as an outcast in the center of the 80's punk rock scene as a wild teen in the streets.  He would move to New York and transform himself into a successful mover and shaker on Wall Street.  Years later, he further developed his innate talent for writing as a means to balance the intensity, pain and duality of his existence. 

 

Danny has been published in numerous journals, anthologies, chapbooks and e-zines, including Paraphilia, The Examiner, The Edgar Allan Poet Journal- Volumes 1 & 2, The Nervous Breakdown, The Nexxuss, Deep Tissue, Richard Modiano's Moon & Sun Review and Unadorned Press's The Musophobist (2012), among others. His first book of poems, Fractured, was the debut release on Punk Hostage Press (2012).  He was a contributing author to Apophenia Press's collaborative novel, Parasite Regained (2014). His latest solo effort, Death In The Key Of Life (2014), published by Oneiros Books, is a collection of intuitive streams of consciousness certainly capable of making the rubber walls bounce off their own reflection.

 

Now 44, he is working on a slew of new writing projects of his own as he edits a massive collaborative effort upon which he embarked with none other than the venerable, Mark Hartenbach.

Bragging rights
High school dropout, runaway, Wall St. earthquake, published author of obscure scribbles & yellow stickies.
Basic Information
Gender
Male
Lived in a GK building in the Marina. Agree with whomever commented above...poorly managed, apathetic staff. Theft was also rampant in my building. It's a shame as Jona Goldrich (G), survived the Holocaust and built a hefty portion of the city's living space. Not involved in day to day resident issues, they're assigned to flunkies at headquarters who never showed me any respect whatsoever. Sad to leave this as his legacy, but his public philanthropic efforts belie the manner in which his company treats its tenants. Tenant is another word for CUSTOMER.
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Public - 2 years ago
reviewed 2 years ago
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