The Siren's Clef *
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Errata:

In all great philosophical traditions, the supreme teacher is the one who remains silent.

So to this website-of-expression I give an unquiet name, The Siren's Clef, a nod to Homer who, in presenting the sirens, warned against the promise of taking such means of expression as anything more than transient phenomenon!

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Clef Writing

Writing has been a central part of my life since early childhood, when I adopted the challenge of producing a new story daily on the way home from nursery school, and it is an interest that has held firm ever since. Today I am actively involved in screenwriting (for which I received one of my two college degrees), fiction, and poetry. While most of these endeavors are approached as a hobby, constant encouragement has led me further toward pursuit of publication in recent years.

This page is divided into three sections, for screenwriting, fiction, and poetry, and summarizes some of the recent projects that I have been working on or have recently completed. Further enquiries are welcome, using the contact link. The self-published Mythopoeia is available for purchase in the poetry section.

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Screenwriting

The following screenplays have been completed recently, or are currently in development.

Aphrodite

SYNOPSIS: Based on the best-selling novel of its time by French author Pierre Louÿs, Aphrodite is a tragedy set in ancient Alexandria, in a society bewitched by the sacred courtesan. When Demetrios, royal sculptor and lover to the Queen, becomes enchanted by the courtesan Chrysis at the onset of festivities dedicated to the goddess Aphrodite, she presents him with a challenge: Demetrios must perform three crimes in order to satisfy her desires and thereby win her favor. What follows is a tale of seduction, sacrifice, and murder, set in an age of turbulent passions.

STATUS: Aphrodite was recently completed and is undergoing the revisioning process.

Preparation

SYNOPSIS: When Laura Russo is placed in a nursing home she fears her fate is to eventually pass away, imprisoned and forgotten about. That is, until she meets Emily Dean, a wildly eccentric resident with a small group of loyal followers. Together they form an inseparable bond of friendship and a plan to embark on a mysterious escape mission. A series of bizarre and comedic adventures are the result; preparation for a journey "Home" which prove that it's not the trained medical staff who hold the key to coping with an inevitably destructive disease. Instead, it is this small group of determined free spirits.

(Harold and Maude meets One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest)

STATUS: Preparation is currently being pitched as a feature film.

Animal Hedges

SYNOPSIS: Clad in her red riding hood, nine year-old Mira goes on a trip to Grandmother's house for three days. However, used as the pawn in an ongoing battle between mother and grandmother, Mira suffers a destructive family curse. Generation after generation of emotional abuse is handed down from mothers to daughters. Taking solace in her Grandmother's topiary garden, Mira's animal friends reveal the source of her own growing family contempt. Retreating into a world of fairy tales, the life of a child whose imagination is delightfully overactive faces off against an ageless and unending family secret. Unfortunately, the victors aren't always victorious, to possess all that you want often neglects what you need, and childhood was never meant to serve as a battlefield.

(Ordinary People meets Heavenly Creatures)

STATUS: Animal Hedges was entered in the Oscars' Nicholl Fellowships in Screenwriting, and finished at the top 5% mark.

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Fiction

I have worked on fiction on and off as a hobby for many years, particularly drawing upon the significant exposure I had to surrealism in my youth in combination with the philosophical endeavors that developed later. The following are recently undertaken fiction projects.

Adventures in Ego: A Metaphysical Fairy Tale

SYNOPSIS: Little Avanna, like all children her age, starts to wonder: "Who am I?" After witnessing her mad Uncle Leo disappear into a mysterious labyrinth constructed on the grounds of his estate, Avanna wanders in after him on an adventure that quickly grows from a search for her missing uncle to a hunt for her own true identity. A conceptual maze infused with the spirit of such authors as L. Frank Baum (The Wizard of Oz) and Lewis Carroll (Alice in Wonderland), Adventures in Ego twists one's notions of the self and unravels the mysteries which have confronted philosophers throughout the history of mankind. This journey into nonduality and metaphysics is woven into a comedic romp where world mythologies and cosmic riddles reign supreme.

STATUS: Adventures in Ego has been completed and is being edited.

The Ivory Journey of Seasonal Crossroads

SYNOPSIS: Completed in less than fourty-two days this novel/prose poem (co-written with photographer and author Gordon Arkenberg) is the largest-scale exquisite corpse that I know of. A common version of the exquisite corpse method involves two or more writers jotting down three sentences, then folding back the first two. Each author in succession receives only the last of the previous three lines to add upon. It continues like this until a surprising text coalesces, formed by chance and the collective imagination of several authors. Using a custom exquisite corpse web application, The Ivory Journey became a mildly coherent, poetic narrative about a king's mystical journey through his kingdom. With wild and vivid imagery, it illustrates the struggle for power between an aging king, a group of rogue politicians, and the local religious authorities. Split into nine chapters (one assigned to each of the Greek muses) this marvelous journey is one of the most complex and imaginative pieces I have ever worked on.

STATUS: Plans to pitch Ivory Journey for publication as experimental fiction have been considered and are pending.

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Poetry

Since I was a child, I have been deeply interested in poetry, particularly Surrealist, French, and Zen styles. I have written scores of poems over the years, and self-published one formal book of poetry.

Mythopoeia

Mythopoeia represents a synthesis of my early interests in surrealism, especially surrealist poetry, and my particular philosophical views. The marriage of these two unrelated topics has produced a unique approach to creative writing. In my life, poetry has taken on a strictly ritualistic and transformative role, designed to deconstruct conventional logic and pave the way to a higher level of consciousness. Images are carefully chosen so that a diverse range of conflicting objects, with precise concepts and qualities, are brought together in unexpected ways so as to loosen and dislodge ideas that have securely taken root in the consciousness. In the midst of this disorientation, meaning is implied loosely through instinct and tone, producing the desired result: to develop the faculty of intuition and free awareness from the grip of mundane and automatic cognitions.

Since Mythopoeia, a 36-page of surrealist poetry, first made appearances throughout local New York City bookstores, it has drawn interest and online book orders from around the globe.

A Review of Mythopoeia:

Both the Symbolist poets and the Surrealist movement set out to wage war on logic, linearity, and reality. Poet Alexander Romanovich takes up the charge with his first book of poetry, "Mythopoeia." This brief volume is filled with startling, wonderful images, neologisms, and portmanteau words that soar off the page. Infused with the amorphous logic of dreams, and an adherence to texture makes this not so much a book of poems as much as a book of spells. In spite of the obscurantism rampant in these pages, there is a crystalline clarity to the moods that Romanovich evokes. Rather than dwelling on darkness, the author creates complex images full of luminous tranquility. Romanovich's work arises from the same hallowed ground that gave birth to the glossolalia of such musicians as Sigur Ros, Cocteau Twins and Lisa Gerrard (an admitted influence - a poem here is even entitled "Yulunga").
-- Craig Laurance Gidney, author/critic

Contents (click to read samples):

Maidenhorns
Circle Of Stones
Aria
Chanson Des Chansons
With
Remains Of Ancient Days
Per Meditabor Ad Astra
Homecoming
Lilliputian
Lepidoptera
Geography
Wake
Beast Of Seasons
Firelight
Picture Books
Sobriquet
Free To Speak
Edredon
Farewell
On Meridian
Oval
Theatres In Fog
Excursions Of Light
Wheel Of The North Star
Yulunga
The Blank Elder
Wonderhood
Isolde's Dream
A Child Falls Asleep
Aperitif
The Forest Fermenting

Contents (click to read samples):

Maidenhorns
Circle Of Stones
Aria
Chanson Des Chansons
With
Remains Of Ancient Days
Per Meditabor Ad Astra
Homecoming
Lilliputian
Lepidoptera
Geography
Wake
Beast Of Seasons
Firelight
Picture Books
Sobriquet
Free To Speak
Edredon
Farewell
On Meridian
Oval
Theatres In Fog
Excursions Of Light
Wheel Of The North Star
Yulunga
The Blank Elder
Wonderhood
Isolde's Dream
A Child Falls Asleep
Aperitif
The Forest Fermenting

paypal Mythopoeia is available for $5.

Number of copies: ($5 per copy + $1 S/H)

Shipping information will be supplied through your PayPal account. Please enter optional comments you might have in the space provided below.

Upon completing your order, you will be returned to this page.


With

I am amongst the snow of a haunted oath
tucked behind your ear like a vanishing soldier
and from the omniscient two stars delicate walkers emerge
like gales on prowl through slender alleys

I dream in grasslands I ask for your voice
and flood your hair with fires
in which a mountain fragments
cliffs of powder in lovers' bags

I sleep so my hands descend your arms
as morning laces along the coast
whose many stripes are each horizon
your corona the perimeter of Sophocles

I awaken hostile in rouged embers that plague your lips
as a wasp becomes my heart's artisan
stirred by sail with distant breaths
still inside their mothers' bellies

I drip from your eye of Alaskan ointment
steaming like the salt air of inward cathedrals
with the folding silk condensation of
driftwood gables and their gothic shine

I give you a touch of flowering wings that tear to shreds
the myriad crimson scripts on your soft hand
untamed and disturbed by medieval bells
because you love our twilight and the moon it casts

(close poem)
© 2004 Alexander Romanovich


Lepidoptera

One sees brushwork from dusted sacks, fires on the wings of bright
        canvas that wind like clocks in greening pools
He awaits a procession from the edge of gardens receiving only chills
        when hands arrive to shut his eyes
Before the rain falls like flakes of light
        he follows the shadow of banana moons
Picks stones from the breakwater
        while pigments flower in his mouth
Bells ring from the pond squeak with the glass eyes of insects
        and man sees by the flame in his throat
He's called into the lily pads like a lonely suitor
        leaving monarchs in his path
He resurrects through open windows to catch pollen
        shifting through ancient ruins arranged in paisley
Tends to a bestiary painted in oils
        glimpsed through the crack of castle walls
Then through the flags sorting breeze
        he exhales a star
Folds his face in leaf and skips as
        a mild rainbow through the mouths of cows

(close poem)
© 2004 Alexander Romanovich


Free To Speak

I've had the occasion to think about forgotten skies
their fragrant, delicate rioting
obscured echoes swimming in the vague summers
        in the depths of lavender nights
with a few secrets the enigmatic codes of discolored maps
bound by shivering bodies like a cluster of despondent stones
And who would know if we let them
drop to the empty playgrounds, beaches, the empty
courtyards which step from cirrus curtains
from a sky beneath the ocean
from the groaning lair of seashells
In the air we are antique
it is in this form that I die a sleepless night
        and fall through firmament
through the metered vapor of winding arms I whisper
what I'm not supposed to
for the alternating cities blowing over the rims of bottles movement
hammers their doors shut tips the cradles of wine
You told me our memories, the true age of the Earth
descending in tiaras of saffron fur
to spook the butterflies from one's arms
but they are replaced
        one by one
like a swarm of birds to a heating vent
weaving in and out of the flags bearing
crescents
Then a zoetrope turns in the country
        stripped of all its scents
which was growing drowsy not shifting its colors
and the mother returns
she dances with rosy oils and princessed curls
        on shadows like shelves
raising cliffs which bleed across
the pale corneas of spectators on the mainland
and these become the modern times upon which
        aborigines shine

(close poem)
© 2004 Alexander Romanovich


Oval

morning is swallowed like a black egg seated beneath the waves
whose shell is a milk solidified through time to a polished gem
that cracks like orchids in a spell of sleep
        in chords from a lone dancer
the sound draws hawks from viridian pines to dive at milk blossoms
in the earthy pools in a thousand-fingered freefall
they snap their beaks shut blink in the wind lashed by ovate daylight
        skip like small children into the patterns of rock
where cauldrons pipe molten steam in paralleled embers
arched in webs of infinite reproduction
the children who pull stars to their palms and
        draw the gaze of reflecting faces
are nestled in among the rocks and weeds and
chilled by the still waters of a sandcastle recalling its omen
but when their faces withdraw from the trees netting laughter
garish flowers unfold in the air like moths in flight
drenched with smiles laid out upon the beach
        snails slipping into the sea
their shouts are like magnesium in a rabbit's mouth
riding the tip of a mirthful ocean comet as
it's drawn through long tubes of the sea
and like a cloud of kindling lingering in bottled pollen
the hills emerge through worried gardens in the frosted
        glow of cemetery stones
but innocence slides from cave walls in whirlpools' intricate suction
so that our eyes light with the spectacle of nudity
and, as such, we are born again each year on the lips of victory

(close poem)
© 2004 Alexander Romanovich

in listening colors, the hues of apparition