Stephen Rodefer paintings - ModernArts

stephen rodefer
Home      Welcome      Artists      Painting      Sculpture      Inventory      Learn      Public art      ArtCart      Contact

    Stephen Rodefer


Inquire for availability and pricing             

stephen rodefer stephen rodefer 2 stephen rodefer 3
stephen rodefer poet stephen rodefer poet 2 stephen rodefer poet 3


S t e p h e n   R o d e f e r

Contemporary Art Dealer

BORN:            Ohio, November 1940

 

EDUCATION:

1959-63            Amherst College, Amherst Massachusetts, Art History & Literature

1963-67            Graduate Studies in Poetry and Literature, SUNY Buffalo, NY

 

One of the founders and current leaders of the Language Poetry Movement. First American writer to be sought out and hired by the University of Cambridge in England.  A literary genius who has taken up painting in his 60's as a way to incorporate form and color into his literary art. Rodefer currently lives in Paris and paints on found materials, including cardboard, canvas, paper and wood.

 

rodefer poetry      Stephen Rodefer my mother made me a rich man
        

 

                       
 
                                To  Any  Reader

 

                whose mind’s uterus is awash with Nietzsche’s semen

 

 

                Lasso sots-- sieze mistakers, peach sniffers, lazy boys

            and hijack penthouse esprit de corpsers who travail

            and noose our groceries with their amiable remedies

            ejaculating mendicants nourished on vermin.

 

            Our peaches are tits, our repentence laughter

            Oui-Oui fashions on fat payments and our vows

            we return Queer upon the bourbon train

            crayoning vile eye leak to lather up our spots

 

            On fever’s orielle lies MarilynManson tripled up

            as he longs for Bercy meat for his enchanted tribe

            and the mettle of Richet our volunteer, our son, eva

            porates the entire fucking chimerical savannah with a match

 

            Celestiel tarnation rips up our filament

            O objects of repulsive things we treasure like repasts

            upchuck the verse which denvers us to kindred oompas

            across horrid sands to traverse the putrid fen

 

            As a craven debauch will kiss and gorge on

            any maryred tits of our best cathouse

            so we volunteer Delphine on some clandestine alley cat

            and press upon her forte mignon our best yokono grapefruit

 

            Sir! raise the swarming ants like googled helmet worms

            easing into our brains, our robot hippo camp, our vermouth

            pur plink the people of Demuth when we blow bad breath their way

            l’amour converts la mort-- kindred fluvia invisible, plaintive, absurd

 

            If the vials, the mayhem, the rapiers and arsons of the General Rape

            have not again embroidered replete our graphic work to come

            the banal canvas of our piteous distinies can smack the monkey then

            so our violin necks the mispelt difference stoned on Helen Jackie’s ma  regrets

 

            Hardy people, feed the jackals parmassan, the lyceč is a panther

            those apes, those scorpions, the vultures and those slime

            all the galloping monsters who hurl their grog our way—rampant

            through menageries inflammed with DeNiro pecadillo girls

 

            It’s a lot like getting laid a bit mechanical but fucking plus

            if you shake and shudder then heave and cry out loud to the globe

            the feret cunts still volunteer their dirt to breeze you to it 

            and dance your ball joints mounted on their most available fiction

 

            Well it’s a long us and the eye charges steep for each tear on her

            you dream along while sexy UFO’s smoke your dearest hooka

            and you thought you knew it all, been to lectures, earsucking the normal soup

            of hypodermic critics, readers, ungainly in your reflection—Twins brother!           

                                   

            24 02 05 SR Paris


           Stephen Rodefer, photo by Robin Purves

stephen Rodefer some fucking fucker Stephen Rodefer in love
   

All Contents Copyright 1999-2005, ModernSculpture.com, All Rights Reserved.

Home      Welcome      Artists      Painting      Sculpture      Inventory      Learn      Public art      ArtCart      Contact
steven rodefer                    

e-mail this site to a friend or colleague.