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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	"Whether Report" by Jan Sand There were violent stormsIn the bedroom.A cold affrontResulted in precipitation.Some thunder And a quick retreat to the bathroom Where pressures built up dangerously.
	"Constructions of Congruence" by Jan Sand The world roots deep insideWhere the eye and earManufactures bricksSupplying basic industriesOf secret architectsWith agendas proprietary.I wander through their streetsAlien
	"Birthday optimism" by Jan Sand Another year has skulked awayWith treasures, troubles, odd confusions,A few new happenings that mayBecome, with the right transfusions,A novel worthwhile form of play.Our lives are short

	"Desperate Song" by Jan Sand Who will act for mankind? Not me, not me.For time's not kind,And I'm not free.I've sat so long to watch the willOf anger and destruction Smash good sense int
	"Dark Passage" by Jan Sand Night eyes fixed into my skullStare in fascination as black cloudsRoil the darkness overfilledWith evanescent images in toilTo work the caves of memory,Extract rich nostalgic oresA
	"Ephemera" by Jan Sand Things wear. Cloth fraysHolding out small strandsLike begging hands.Shoe leather abrades to sliversUntil a holeDemands a new sole.Time's assault deliversAll solidity
	"First Snow" by Jan Sand October lays its snowsIn a temporary wayLike children in an atticDonning adult clothes in play,Trying on maturityFor an hour or a day.But soon the snows are gone,The grass be
	"Manic Panic" by Jan Sand The dangers of defenceAre accountably immenseAs the things of everyday can testify.Everything with edgesSharp enough to trim the hedgesCan decapitate, or at least, put out an eye.W
	"Innovation" by Jan Sand God comes by, once or twice a week.Sometimes he waits a bit on the veranda,Shifting his feet. His shoes squeak.Then he knocks gently on the door."Hello", He calls out."I have something h
	"Pragmatic" by Jan Sand Expedience contains the forceOf most actions of the day.It drives the busses, wipes the noseOf children, on their sleeves, at play.It plugs up holes with chewing gum,And when this fails,
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