Stephen Rodefer paintings - ModernArts

stephen rodefer
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    Stephen Rodefer

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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



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

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