New Website!

So i have officially started a new website in order to incorporate all of my doings onto one, single site.

Poetry, art, and yoyo.  If you have some time, give it a once over.  I appreciate ya!




Sharing Extravaganza

–Another long block of silence broken.  I have been very busy with artwork, yo-yos(yes yo-yos), and of course writing.  I am currently working on a poetry book, entitled Alcoholic Murmurs, about sixty prose-poetry pieces dealing with the subject of alcoholism and recovery.  Here’s a shorter, sample piece:

To stand there dripping wet,
soaked to the bone,
so low that nothing helps,
not tobacco, sugar or caffeine,
not the AA diet,
and especially not the group,
two hot showers later,
running through the tricks,
and at the end of the list,
the only way
to abolish
the feeling
is to refill
my drink.     

I know a publisher who seems interested in publishing this work.  I’ll have more information on that in August/September of 2015.


–I don’t think I have ever posted a yoyo video on this website.  Basically, I take two yoyos and sling them around my hands in differing, repeating motions.  This area of yoyo skills is called looping.  Looping with two yoyos at the same time is called 2A looping, and it can be a lot of fun.  So here is a video of me which should make you gawk.  If you enjoy this video, you can always follow me on youtube:

Next, I’d like to share an online album featuring two of my good friends.  This album is free and is well worth your time.  They have a grungy, alternative, minimalist style of punk; which features drum and guitar only, plus a slew of talent.  I was happy to do the artwork featured on the album cover:

More of my pen and ink artwork may easily be seen on my instagram account.

Thanks for taking the time to read this article, and I’m sorry it takes me so long to update this website.  All in all, things seem to be progressing alright.  Now, if only I didn’t have to wait tables anymore…because, I’ll tell you….it is a kind of prostitution.  Good ‘morrow.

Brian Looney

Willow, Aspen, Willow

Willow, Aspen, Willow;   Brian Looney, 03/2015

So I know in the past this has primarily been a poetry site, but I work with pen and ink as well.  I’m not sure which passion takes precedence.  I have been writing for so much longer.  There is nothing more personal, more sweeping, more haunting than poetry.  Art, on the other hand(my art), is much less personal.  In any case, I often get the impression that my inspiration comes from somewhere outside of self.  All of that aside, if you would like to see more artwork, just click the image.  A window will open and take you to my etsy shop, where I generally post about one piece per week.

Now I will include a shorter prose poem from the current chapbook, “New Creations Out in Public.”  These shorter pieces give rise to much longer, quirkier writing which appears later on.  I will also be including artwork in this project.  I have not yet attempted publication.  I dread the entire process.



Allow me to revisit the feeling of a particular flourish, to revive me in the lowly hours.  Allow me to pinpoint the time of day, the emotions at play: my surprise or disappointment, awe or outright shame.  You will allow me that much, sir.  Allow me to relate the disgust which often gave way to love, as I powered through my disgust, to separate my work from the kiddos.’

They love the magic, these kiddos.  But in the artist’s case, it takes more and more to achieve the same, the same mystical state, that coveted artist high.  Use and abuse, now progress.  Never really at rest.  Medication on the table, lamplit.  They love the magic, these kiddos.  They wanna be just like me.




An Update


Fungus Wild, by Brian Looney, 10.2014

Greetings, all.  It has been some time since I posted anything on this site.  I am almost inclined to apologize for that.  But really, I have posted so many pieces on the internet that I’m experiencing very little guilt.  Now is the time to internalize.  I have been working hard on the latest chapbook, entitled “New Creations Out in Public.”  This chapbook deals in motifs like ego, creation, addiction.  It explores what it is to be an artist in a “narrow world.”

Over the past year, I have embraced a new passion: drawing with pen and ink.  So much so, that I have started a shop on Etsy to showcase my work.  I will be including select drawings in this latest chapbook…a very large step in my development as a writer and an artist.  And just for fun, I will share a sample of writing from this project.


The Universe Within

I tell ya those low days are low but often fruitful, and merely a part of the life that was granted.  For better or worse, I’m no worse for the wear, not restful, not weary, full of doubt and rebellion, and I hope(I hope) with new creations, because without them I am at a loss.  Without them I am merely low, in a commonplace sort of way.

Good god man, eegad, gadzooks, enough of this self-important hockey, I wished to craft a celestial telescope so that I might watch the gods at play; to narrate, to sketch their lurid scenes.  Was that so wrong?

I imagined
they spanned the galaxies, dressed by every color of the spectrum, plus colors never perceived by the limited human range…or even no color at all, absolute colorlessness, devoid even of white and black, not so much composed of darkness, not composed of light.

But the truth is we are only staring at ourselves.

Q:  There, you have it there on record.


If you haven’t already, you should take the time to read my latest chapbook, “I Love the Petting Zoo,”  also listed just below this post.

Thank you everyone,
and happy creating!

Brian Looney

New Chapbook: “I Love the Petting Zoo”

I Love the Petting Zoo

Click to read

Here it is, a new chapbook, published by Children, Churches and Daddies magazine for your literary enjoyment.  Give it a chance, it won’t let you down.

-Brian Looney


High or Low

Four AM, and the eyes are filled with dreams, the dreams are filled with longing, the longing is atypical, a collage of image and emotion.  Memory, under the influence of sleep, as sleep withdraws its merciless musk, merciless on exit, and seeds of thought take to the brain, unwanted shoots of wakefulness, followed by the steel-toed boot of self-belief, of disciplined defiance, that very bitter drink.

You grow to love its bitter taste–it hardens you.  For years it hardens you, and you enjoy being hard, because it is so truthful, because you feel your power flex, you know that you can take it, more alive than anyone.  To chuckle at the lack of light behind the stranger’s eyes, while disdain invigorates your pride, even through those sour reversals.  But high or low, you’ll peel away the layers.  High or low, until the end, you make it all you have.


At the public park, and the trees were flush, the grass was green, the sky so blue it capped the earth from end to end, dry and clear and uninterrupted.  Insects alighted on my skin, zipping away as I half-heartedly swatted them back, and humanoids littered the park in groups of three and four, lazily and intrusively staring my direction, steadfast, and I half-heartedly swatted them with a disdainful flick of the neck, but they alighted again and again.

That wasn’t what disturbed me so much as the stench of diesel amidst all that foliage–it was hardly overpowering; it persisted just beneath the sense, an unmistakable, death-defying hint of smog, but my ire crept and crept until it threatened to explode from its container.  Especially those two cop cars parked there head-to-toe, bumper-to-hood, necking in that authoritarian lover’s embrace, so that the two driver side windows were aligned, allowing the boys in blue to chat of who knows what without leaving the confines of their oh so apparent vehicles.

What with all those pollutants, I was forced to evacuate, offended unto rage, baffled at myself, anxious unto neurosis, seeking only sanctuary, finding it only in myself–in the endless, quiet vistas of a groping, grasping isolation, which fears the body’s interrupting needs…