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Jan Sand

Jan Sand

I was born in Manhattan, New York, grew up to the age of 12 in Brooklyn, and resided until the age of 36 in Manhattan. I took a degree in industrial design at Pratt Institute and worked in New York until I was designated field man for a New York firm for an exhibition by the US Commerce Dept in Helsinki, where I met my wife. Since then, I worked in Berlin, Paris, Tel Aviv and in the USA.
 
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 CarpenteringCarpentering by Jan Sand
The first god, perhaps,Thrust out of the blackStar filled skyAs a fist of fire.
 BelowBelow by Jan Sand
The surface of the seaChipped into hollows by the windWaves whitecaps back at me.I am fixed ashore, pinnedTo a static spot to watch the dance
 DemiseDemise by Jan Sand
It is quite conventionalAnd not at all contentionalTo rage against the age when we decay.For the progress of the regressGenerates the anger to express
Badboys Radio Show Ovi Gallery Le Meteque Ovi Exhibition Ovi Bookshop
 Ragged MagicRagged Magic by Jan Sand
He appearedTall and thin.Tall and thin with a grin.An ironic smile, with guileTo permit an opening. Friendly enoughSo that approa
 KeyboardKeyboard by Jan Sand
Were I to drawOn a paper stripThe keyboard of a piano,A pianist touching a selected oblong
 In The SuburbsIn The Suburbs by Jan Sand
These streets are now well walked.I know their spotted concrete patches,Lightning cracks, tufts of wayward sprouting weeds,Broken trees with jagged boughs, blackboned fingers
 GameGame by Jan Sand
I used to think that mysteryHung somewhere out among the starsLike silver bells and mirror ballsOn the celestial Christmas tree. 
 The ConcertThe Concert by Jan Sand
Impatiently the clock’s batonTaps the music to start up.
 Cool ItCool It by Jan Sand
There is suspicion of intentIn everything, no purpose bent,For living things must orientPurposes where none is meant. 
 Twisters Twisters by Jan Sand
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