RC Miller

Featured artist RC Miller lives in Metuchen, New Jersey and maintains a blog at VISION BLUES.

A conversation with RC Miller:

SP:  Describe yourself and your artistic work (photography, poetry, etc) generally in 20 words or less.

RCM:  There’s blackness then glued sky. Cash and buns. Repetitious inscriptions that sometimes bite a single animal. Fashionably explicit gushers.

SP:  Now describe yourself and your work specifically in 10 words or less.

RCM:  Sex-obsessed narcissist consumes and skillfully regurgitates the inevitability of oblivion.

SP:  How is taking/making a picture like writing a poem?

RCM:  Both require their creator to think and act nondualistically. Both have everything to do with orgasms.

SP:  You’ve got a chapbook coming out later this summer from Calliope Nerve Media. That’s awesome. Tell us about it.

RCM:  Thank you. It’s called ‘Gore’ and encompasses a series of weirdly tight poems about an addiction to imagining my own cycles of deaths and rebirths.

SP:  Alright, we have to bring it up. Talk about living in New Jersey. In 5 sentences or less.

RCM:  Great record stores. Shitty drivers. Cleaner air and more trees than NYC. High potential for supernatural experiences. Generally confounding.

SP:  On to the good stuff. When you filed your taxes earlier this year, what did you claim as your biggest deduction?

RCM:  Unemployment benefits.

SP:  Which do prefer? The dentist’s office or the doctor’s office?  And why?

RCM:  I’m lucky enough to be the patient of a dentist whose dental assistant is a sexy young Ukrainian woman that occasionally drips her iris-scented cleavage sweat on me while sucking saliva from my gums. So yeah, pro-dentite.

SP:  What’s your favorite routine thing that you’re most often forgetting to do?

RCM:  Smoke cigarettes.

SP:  Talk about your artistic process. How do you know a piece is going to happen?

RCM:  I have no specific process other than walking or staring aimlessly and allowing ideas to emerge or images to present themselves. A potent combination of God and my balls dictates when to enhance or kill them.

SP:  Describe your overall artistic philosophy in 15 words or less.

RCM:  I’m a slave to capitalism too.

Poetry/ Photography Submission- RC Miller- 06/14/10

July 10 X

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RC Miller

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show details Jun 14 (6 days ago)
Dear Editors,

Hello. 

Below is an offering of poems and attached is a gathering of photos (all untitled) from which I hope you’ll pluck something and publish within the inaugural Soundless. If not, no hard feelings. Thanks for the consideration.


Best of luck,
RC Miller

Bio:
RC Miller lives in Metuchen, New Jersey and maintains a blog at VISION BLUES
ISSUEDSuns chill their blood in the river.
First it was crowds of mutes fed by milk.The rabid dog turns in his tiny movie.
The tree makes for a terrifying priest.Beak, your now is pine ash.
By dusk clouds bleed

A mysterious tree tied to a rabid dog.
Milk my children like this.

THEY CITIES

Sands birth green sauce to oil the sky.
The blackness of an inner universe alternates souls.

Ants divide cash for the exit of cooling stars.
The sky recycles from mossy waste to bun.

The green sauce grows tits atop my mind.
Those who carve birds see the blackness that everything else did.

HINGE

The sink is eels.
Heavy buildings of air smoke.
Official entertainment puts a bullet in my own head.
I’ve seen this finale eight times.
Abstract with shopping cart fixings.
The employees so friendly and deposited.

I need food.
Got two sons and they are water.
Paratroopers have bases in the shopping center.
Asteroids land each time the nightsky separates from a solution.
The authorities say I need food to bear them.
Just sticks and knives make their way to safety.

I’ve seen two sons put a bullet in my own head.
The nightsky separate eight times.
Heavy entertainment of abstract employees
Bears asteroids in the shopping center.
The authorities water their way to safety.
The air just sticks and knives.

There are eels covering the whole city.
Television pictures need water to materialize.
Food lands each time paratroopers build smoke.
Got two shopping carts that think they’re me.
I had a big hit with the club remix of ‘Bullet in My Own Head.’
I am not afraid of neighbors being shot dead.

FAKE BAD PRESS

The sacrifice expands to a castanet-sized fishstick.
Once it hemorrhages, all of existence is evil.
Darken my hook with cocoons and dry hair.
The great orb disorders elbows.

God has revealed itself to a white boar.
A wooded mud missing a pigeon.
Fresh berries, they kiss noses.
Colon cancer while I’m eating my breakfast.

UNTYING

Cordless warpaths throttle
A dim intercom
Deck and transmit
The wedgie sneaking across her onion

Thong on the blade, suggesting
My gut

Jiggles out of the cold
Not yet air
But autofellatio

Still as a stretcher,
Cozy as the chocolate calfskin

Meatball and baby in heat.

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Soundless Poetry

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show details Jun 14 (5 days ago)
RC,We totally dig your photos, Untitled #1, 2, & 5 (100602_143518.jpg, 1123091759.jpg, & 0309002029a.jpg), and would love to feature them in our inaugural issue.  Thank you for sharing them with us!

SP


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RC Miller

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show details Jun 15 (5 days ago)
Excellent news, thank you for the acceptance and please shoot me an email when the issue launches. Guess the poetry didn’t sit well which is unfortunate since my hope was that the photos and poems be featured together. Regardless, I’m thrilled that you dig my work.

Be well,
RC
– Show quoted text –
On Mon, Jun 14, 2010 at 10:56 PM, Soundless Poetry <soundlesspoetry@gmail.com> wrote:

RC,

We totally dig your photos, Untitled #1, 2, & 5 (100602_143518.jpg, 1123091759.jpg, & 0309002029a.jpg), and would love to feature them in our inaugural issue.  Thank you for sharing them with us!

SP


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