Author Archives: Barlo Perry


I am standing on the corner of Stanton and Chrystie,
waiting for the traffic light to change.
A man is sitting on the steps of a building
holding his young son on his lap.
He is eating fried chicken
from Chico’s take-out on Houston.
He chews on the wings
and feeds bits of the breast to his son. The man finishes eating
and puts the leftover chicken and bones,
french fries and soda can in a paper bag
and leaves it on the sidewalk.
A brown dog from a neighboring building,
snoops around
gets his nose in the bag,
chews on the bones
and makes a mess.
The man hits the dog with a newspaper,
and it yelps and runs away.
A black cat sitting in a window,
watches wide-eyed,
staring down at the dog,
chicken bones and gristle. I see their past and present lives.
The man eats the chicken
and the chicken
was his mother,
who had died of cancer two years ago; the dog chewing on the bones
was his father,
who had died of a heart attack five years ago;
and the cat in the window
was his grandmother;
and his young son, whom he holds so tenderly,
was the man who killed him in his previous life.
His wife comes home with groceries
and takes the boy into the building.
She had been his lover in many past lives,
and was his mother for the first time in this one.
The world just makes me laugh. Fill what is empty,
empty what is full,
as body,
as breath.Welcoming the flowers:
baptized in butter,
lilacs lasciviously licking the air,
necklaces of wisteria
bowing to magnolia mamas,
the cherry blossoms are razor blades,
the snow dahlias are sharp as cat piss,
the lilies of the valley are
lilies of fur,
lilies of feather,
lilies of fin,
lilies of skin,
the almost Miss America rose,
the orchids are fat licking tongues,
and they all smell so good
and I am sucked into their meaty earthy goodness. You make
my heart
feel warm,
I lay my head on your chest
and feel free,
what is empty,
what is full,
filling what is
empty, emptying
what is full,
filling what is empty, emptying what is full,
filling what is empty, emptying what is full,
the gods
we know
we are,
the gods
we knew
we were.I smell you
with my eyes,
see you
with my ears,
feel you
with my mouth,
taste you
with my nose,
hear you
with my tongue,
I want you to sit
in my heart,
and smile. Words come from sound,
sound comes from wisdom,
wisdom comes from emptiness,
deep relaxation
of great perfection. Welcoming the flowers:
armfuls of honey suckle
and columbine,
red-tipped knives of Indian paint brush,
the fields of daisies are the people
who betrayed me
and the lupine were self-serving and unkind,
the voluminous and voluptuous bougainvillea
are licking fire loving what it cannot burn,
the big bunch of one thousand red roses
are all the people I made love to,
hit my nose with stem of a rose,
the poppies have pockets packed with narcotic treats,
the chrysanthemums are a garland of skulls. I go to death
with the same comfort and bliss
as when I lay my head
on my lover’s chest. Welcoming the flowers:
the third bouquet is a crown of blue bells,
a carillon of foxglove,
a sunflower snuggles its head on my lap
and gazes up at the sky,
may all the tiny black insects
crawling on the peony petals
be my sons and daughters in future lives,
great balls of light
radiating white, red, blue
concentric dazzle,
yellow, green
great exaltation,
the world just makes me laugh. May sound and light
not rise up and appear as enemies,
may I know all sound as my own sound,
may I know all light as my own light,
may I spontaneously know all phenomena as myself,
may I realize original nature,
not fabricated by mind,
naked awareness. — John Giorno

John Giorno—poet, artist, organizer, AIDS activist, Buddhist, catalyst, muse, husband of Ugo Rondinone, star of Andy Warhol’s Sleep—died last week at home: 222 Bowery in lower Manhattan.

From top: John Giorno at the Chelsea Hotel, New York City, 1965, photograph by William S. Burroughs; Giorno, Don’t Wait for Anything; Giorno with Ugo Rondinone (right) in front of Rondinone’s Target, New York City, 2005; Andy Warhol, Sleep (1963), still; Giorno performing at the Tibetan Benefit, Washington Square Methodist Church, New York, 1974, photographed by Gianfranco Mantegna, courtesy the John Giorno Archives, New York; poster for the Nova Convention, 1978, organized by Giorno, James Grauerholz, and Sylvère Lotringer; Keith Haring (left), Burroughs, and Giorno in 1987 at a shooting range in Lawrence, Kansas, where Burroughs lived after leaving New York City, photograph by Kate Simon; Brooklyn Rail poster for performance events during the exhibition Ugo Rondinone: I ♥ John Giorno; Giorno, The World Just Makes Me Laugh. Images courtesy and © the John Giorno Archives, the artists, the filmmakers, and the photographers.


The songs on the first album are the children. The songs on the second album are their parents. GHOSTEEN is a migrating spirit.

Thus Nick Cave describes his new double album GHOSTEEN, songs from which he may perform this week at Disney Hall as part of his CONVERSATIONS WITH NICK CAVE—AN EVENING OF TALK AND MUSIC.

Four years ago, Cave’s teenage son Arthur fell off a cliff to his death after taking LSD. On the album Skeleton Tree (2016), the documentary One More Time with Feeling, and his interactive fan website The Red Hand Files, Cave has worked through his grief, an ongoing process he continues in GHOSTEEN.

Per a notice on Disney Hall’s website, during Tuesday night’s show—during which Cave will sing and play solo on piano, as well as take questions from the audience—”no subject is sacred, and the entire evening will be unfiltered, unscripted, and unmoderated, leading to what Cave calls an exercise in connectivity.”


Tuesday, October 15, at 8 pm.

Walt Disney Concert Hall

111 South Grand Avenue, downtown Los Angeles.

Nick Cave images courtesy and © the artist, photographers, designers, and publishers.


The 4K restoration of SÁTÁNTANGÓBéla Tarr’s durational magnum opus, based on the novel by László Krasznahorkai—will screen twice this month, presented by the American Cinematheque.

Early on, I noticed that when the camera is rolling and the whole scene is moving, everyone starts to breathe in the same rhythm: the actors, the crew members, the cinematographer, everyone. You are all “in.” And that is very important. It creates a special tension. It gives a special vibration. Somehow you can feel it on the screen too. You become a part of it.Béla Tarr


Sunday, October 13, at 2 pm.

Aero Theatre

1328 Montana Avenue, Santa Monica.

Saturday, October 26, at 2 pm.

Egyptian Theatre

6712 Hollywood Boulevard, Los Angeles.

Béla Tarr, Sátántangó. Images courtesy and © the filmmaker and Arbelos Films.


This is the Age of Bong Joon-ho. The director of The Host (2006), Mother (2009), Snowpiercer (2013), and Okja (2017) was delighted to hear that a critic recently declared “Bong Joon-ho” not just a filmmaker but a genre unto itself.

Ahead of the release of his latest masterpiece PARASITE—a perfect marriage of the art film and the popcorn movie which won the 2019 Festival de Cannes Palme d’or—Bong has asked that reviewers not reveal any of the film’s significant details. So avoid Amy Taubin’s cover story in the current issue of Film Comment until after you’ve seen the film.

It’s safe to say that PARASITE is a comedic, politically astute twist on the upstairs-downstairs tale, wherein members of a resourceful family from Seoul’s lower depths—Song Kang-ho (who plays the father), Chang Hyae-jin (mother), Park So-dam (daughter), and Choi Woo-shik (son)—manage to insinuate themselves, to transformative effect, into the upper-class home of Mr. and Mrs. Park (Lee Sun-kyun and Cho Yeo-jeong).

Bong will be on hand at both the Arclight Hollywood and The Landmark throughout opening weekend for post-screening Q & A’s, and will return on October 30 for an American Cinematheque presentation.


Now playing.


Saturday, October 12, following the 7:30 pm and 8 pm shows.

Arclight Hollywood

6360 Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles.


Saturday, October 12, following the 4:10 pm show.

Sunday, October 13, following the 1:10 pm, 4:25 pm, and 6 pm shows.

The Landmark

10850 West Pico, West Los Angeles.

Bong Joon-ho, Parasite (2019), from top: Park So-dam (left) and Choi Woo-shik; Choi, Song Kang-ho, Chang Hyae-jin, and Park; Lee Sun-kyun and Cho Yeo-jeong; Parasite poster courtesy and © Neon; Song; Cho. Images courtesy and © the filmmaker and Neon.


William Forsythe presents A QUIET EVENING OF DANCE, two weeks of performances at The Shed mixing old and new works, set to the sound of the dancers breathing.

The program includes DIALOGUE (DUO2015) and CATALOGUE (SECOND EDITION) and, as a closer, the new SEVENTEEN/TWENTY ONE.

SEVENTEEN/TWENTY ONE is… a work whose brilliance Mr. Forsythe has deliberately primed us to see through the quiet rigors of the preceding works.” — Judith Mackrell

A QUIET EVENING OF DANCE will be performed by Brigel Gjoka, Jill Johnson, Christopher Roman, Parvaneh Scharafali, Riley Watts, Rauf Yasit, and Ander Zabala.


October 11 through 25.

Tuesday through Saturday at 7:30 pm. Sundays at 3 pm.

No performance on Thursday, October 17.

Griffin Theater, The Shed

545 West 30th Street, New York City.

William Forsythe, A Quiet Evening of Dance, from top: Ander Zabala and Parvaneh Scharafali; Rauf Yasit (foreground) and Christopher Roman (2); Jill Johnson and Roman (2); Riley Watts (right), Zabala, and Brigel Gjoka(red pants); Yasit and Scharafali; Johnson and Roman. Images courtesy and © the choreographer, the dancers, and the videographer.