Tip of the Knife, Issue 33

From the very first issue posted in May 2010, 

Tip of the Knife has always been visually sharp and verbally smart and bold, 

hewing to its mantra, “Draw blood or go home.” 

Draw out and draw with your life force or take your tools home. We’re not interested.

Bill DiMichele (1952-2019) was but a handful of artists 

(and an even smaller number of editors and publishers) 

who saw with eye, ear, skin, and tongue, 

who moved in and out of image and word and sound 

like our diaphragms move in and out of breath, 

like our blood circulates toes to brain.

That was how he was, who he was, 

and we see, hear, feel, and taste that in the work of these nine poets, 

and even more so—ten fold—in the work of all the artists 

in the full run of Tip of the Knife, 

a run that leaves us invigorated and not breathless, 

awash in the adrenaline of unbridled creativity. 

Read this issue—see through it—then go back to the beginning 

and see through all the issues. 

Your vision will be sharper for it.

You will be missed, Bill, by poets from around the world, 

but then again, this journal, your body of work, is too large to miss. 

So we’re glad you’re still becoming, too significant, too large with us, 

and as long as we bleed and breathe, you will always be with us. 

Let’s take a walk again—a run—along the edge.

Love you Bill, Julie, and Will!

Best, Crag (aka Chillrag)

*Look for a special issue of Tip of the Knife in May, 2020

for the 10th anniversary of the first issue,

followed by a a tribute to Bill which will include a selection of his work.

___________________________________________

CONTRIBUTORS

Andrew Topel
Cecelia Chapman
David Chirot

Joel Chace
John Mingay
Mark Young

Scott Davenport
Vernon Frazer

Volodymyr Bilyk

___________________________________________

- DRAW BLOOD OR GO HOME -

Andrew Topel

Comment from Bill in an email to Andrew: "beautiful structures- true melding of shape and letters"

z1

z2

z3

z4

z5

z6

Cecelia Chapman

Comment from Bill in an email to Cece: "really interesting- we don't get many videos so they're really exciting when we can watch one." 


A short video from Club Paradise, Tears in the Night with Jeff Crouch: 

Club Paradise, Tears in the Night

David Chirot

Comment from Bill in an email to David: "Your new work is beautiful. Glad to see you’re still working."

A VOID

CHIROT ASEMIA LEAVES OF GRASS

CHIROT HANDS ON TRAINING

CHIROT KEEP OK 2

CHIROT REDEMPTION SONG COLLAGE

Joel Chace

Comment from Bill in an email to Joel: "good to see you back on the TOK."


Conceived as much visually as textually.  They're from a sequence entitled "Heaveng."

Non-Euclidean Ventures  19-25

19.

The gentleman burst into a flood of tears

and said, in a voice broken by emotion,

“He christened his youngest child, sir,

with a toasting fork.”

Memory’s tyranny

20.

The entire cosmos was transformed

                                                                                                                                into a vast grid

                                                                of luminous circuitry,

a computer dedicated to solving

the riddle of its own existence.

Byzantium

 21.

In an ecstasy of deliverance

                                               I clasped his neck, and felt that now I need not

                                               go back into that twilight room with its bed and the mystery

behind its curtains.

                                     The work thinks of the creator   

22.

Because they lived atop

                                                         burial caves, they adored

                                                                                                               their dead in different ways.

Diamond’s father

23.

                                           He possessed ubiquity and conceived

                                                                      himself riding upon his own back,

not certain if he was the carrier or

the carried.

                                    

Many can wait many

24.

                                                                        The soul resembles a gray ball

                                                                                                             of cloud

which turns over, like a pumpkin, instead

of walking.

If you flew better, you’d see better

25.

                                           The radio is on

                                           in the empty

                                           room.

              Which you will probably say, but can’t write down












John Mingay

Comment from Bill in an email to John: "beautiful structures, various scales, i think, bright bursting colors. interesting connections. well well well..."


Well, well, well! - a vispo triptych combining digitally processed images of Abhaneri Step Well in Rajasthan, India, and local mots trouvés from a pharmacy, a working men's club (thanks to Johnny Brown) and a domestic toilet. The juxtaposition of distant and near is intended to connect with the Dalai Lama's assertion that we should all visit somewhere new at least once a year, and the increasing scientific understanding of the mental wellbeing that comes of doing so.

Wellwellwell (01)

Wellwellwell (02)

Wellwellwell (03)

Mark Young

Comment from Bill in an email to Mark: "good to hear from you and the voice of your work; love the reference to dr benway, i've been reading burroughs since something like 1970. so we're excited to publish your work in the next issue."


From an ongoing series called The Comedians:

A demarcation dispute

Aviator shades

Collared

Dr. Benway's on a roll

stoogiEs

Scott Davenport

Comment from Bill in an email to Scott: "loved your poetry- it has a depth that transcends."



abundant salad bar

the light's just right

everything's leafy

fig and seed

twig and morsel

everyone's getting off

including me

records of sand

details of all changes through time

hours long

more a recorded memory 

than a thought or dream

water reflecting weird color 

and girls in hallways or stairways

like waves 

into different zones connected

by nothing

time changing 

speeds up or slows down 

depending on sand 

the wind, the quality of the surf

makes me feel 

i should be two people

heather, zuma and point dume

--

unwelcme rock (?) gods

no offense to sound

built by man but 

pls not this dream

a castle of sound

built by billionaire

soft rockers

full reign of sound

over memories

no longer pure

drug adled canyon sound

canceled out replaced

with arena glow

childhood finding sound

in light through trees 

slipping into the wrong hands

peace/rock discovery sound

25 yrs ago slowly and then quickly

becoming unintelligible 

  --

upper fernwood no. 1

crystals and candles

unearthly visions

amongst the twisted oaks

of the canyon

my third eye opens

i am expansive 

consciousness floating in the heavens

i am fucking the universe

which is bountiful

  --

squirrel meditation mantra

i am a squirrel's poem

i am master of the squirrels

i write the squirrel sutra

i am the squirrel's muse

i am the reason squirrels exist

i am the song the squirrel sings

i am the shadow of the squirrel

i am the squirrel in the mirror

i am eternity in a squirrel

the golden squirrel speaks to me

  --

oak forest venue

psychic love in 

a hillside oak woodland

we escaped the scorching 

white hot concrete 

and other lifestyle bummers

we sink past our minds

each expressing 

our consciousness to a candle

slip between dimensions 

slowly thinking about a wave

i touch some flowers 

they walk behind me

our hearts eyes minds are open 

an invitation to free love way out there 

cosmic, coming down from above

written out in a song about a blue cave painting

a peace sign painted on a rock

in a distant memory of malibu cyn 

we light a candle together and let love in

  --

regional forecast

macho surfers learned jiu jistu it was their calling 

they used up all their data

checking the surf on the phone 

trying to remember the smell of

those old rocks exposed by low tide

sometimes you can smell it up in a 

canyon in the afternoon 

at one with the natural world on land

remembering the natural world before

  --

untitled thinking of walt whitman

i am vapor 

formed by pressure systems

too complex to be 

understood completely

mostly ego fog

that evaporates when the sun 

shines brightly enough

and reformed

with afternoon wind which 

blows me into existence

but sometimes i would

rather just be blown

than blown into existence 

and to sit idly down in canyons

and along beaches

  --

july p c h 

traffic and laughing colors

i breathe the ocean

august in water

melted completely mind was

pure love for a sec

sept alone with thoughts

color tiered evening skies

clear blue h20

october wind, man

waves churning and body gets

slammed into the sand

what constitutes myth

november's song and wind change

morning's cool poem

Vernon Frazer

Comment from Bill in an email to Vernon: "work is great, a stylistic continuity with the last work we did in #29."

Save the Last Dance for Memes

0001

0002

0003

Volodymyr Bilyk

Comment from Bill in an email to Volodymyr: "interesting work- we'll be proud to publish it."

These pieces are based on Snapshots from Andy Warhol's A, a Novel as cleaned up from text by Derek Beaulieu taken out of concept and rearranged into distinct punctuational compositions revolving around the word "Pause". 

Lo and Behold  (1)

Lo and Behold  (2)

Lo and Behold  (3)

Lo and Behold  (4)

Lo and Behold  (5)

Lo and Behold  (6)

Lo and Behold  (7)

Only 2 more Tip of the Knife issues: Best of TOK and a last and final issue paying tribute to Bill DiMichele, both with an intro written by Crag Hill.