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The lands we inhabit have become unsuited to men of great heart—

In Cataca, the houses rise from the lake on slender stilts, strikingly painted in a profusion of bright colors. Aching Island primaries bellow in the swelter of a burning sun; the shimmer of heat waves cast as refractory rainbows sparking from steel roofs. Hanging all about, twisting slightly in the light breeze, festoons of bamboo cages are packed with iguanas, a staple of the native cuisine. Flowering vines flow from rafter and deck to waver just above the deep, smooth water. Azure and ruby colored hummingbirds arabesque between the vine flowers and waterlillies, colliding on occasion with enormous emerald dragonflies.

Let's move to the saturated land of Mr. Muerte. Distracted by cries of love and moans of sorrow issuing from night's windows under noon's sun, we can stumble happily over the corpses of sad beggars.

« Postcards from the Land of the Dead: Introduction | Main | Spring »

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John T. Unger poet

I'm best known as an artist and designer. Relaxing makes me tense, so I tend to put in a lot of hours on diverse projects.

Before becoming a visual artist, I spent 15 years as a poet. I studied poetry at Interlochen Arts Academy, Naropa, Stone Circle and on the streets. I performed my work for years at Stone Circle, solo shows, poetry readings, and at Lollapalooza in 1996.

I still write poems, but only if I can make them fit the constraints ofTwitter.

Mobile: 231.584.2710 (9 to 5 PST only) | Email me

Art IS my day job

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