Work / 1

Charles Moore on a motorcycle in front of the Artists Workshop. Photograph by Robin Eichleay 1965

Charles Moore on a motorcycle in front of the Artists Workshop. Photograph by Robin Eichleay 1965

Work #1 was published on July 1st, 1965 in an edition of 350 copies, We hope to eventually include all the publications from the DAW press available as digital downloads but until then, we will include scans and samples from the books and journals of the Artists Workshop.


Three Poems from This is Our Music by John Sinclair from Work/1


the Screamers
(for Kenny Schooner)

stagger down overgrown sidewalks
of memory. giving hand &
giggling. (earth angel, how I long

for you. Where you been, all these
years. Johnny Ace, with a hole
in his head. Where you gwine,

Ivory Joe? Or those stupid white
imitations, the Crewcuts, jive Pat
Boone, stealin my songs. Shh-

Boom. Two Hearts. Chuck
Berry, Jimmy Reed. “I got 47 miles
of barbwire. I use a cobra snake

for a necktie. I got a bran/new house
by the road/side, made from
rattlesnake hide. “o you really

really send me, baby, you
got to go for me or Ah’ll
beat yo ass. Who

do you love. (weird lullabies. Broken
hearts. Long long &
lonely nights. For your

precious love, black america
I wd have drank gasoline, &
all I wanted was a little

water. where I came from,
mysterious ofays of the imagin-
ation. Why you aren’t here

with me, old gang, beer-
drinkers, bullshitters, where did
you go.



the Shadow knows
(for Ron English)

look on each act as
future history. look on
everything, & judge.
eat their food, not words.
drink all you can, use
dope, look them in the face
& laugh. (& if you can
keep from crying. love them
so they won’t understand you.
wear long hair, weird
clothes, look back at all
times, when they breathe
down yr neck,
my friends.




From the John Coltrane Songbook

like Sonny,

like Ornette, like anyone
who takes himself
into the jungle of e-
motion, feeling, judg-

ments. find yrself some morning,
wake up at noon, the heat
that you feel, is yr own. the
friction, of movement. burning yrself

up, out here, where the rain comes
after the fact, go away, run
away, back to (wherever it is
you came from. if you can stay there,

forget it. if you can
move, come out. if you
can stand it. this is really
where its at. (motives

Detroit 16.III.65