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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	"The Modern Military" by Jan Sand It takes some skillTo accommodate 'Thou shalt not kill'.This rather basic thoughtIs fraught with negations.Animals, of course, have no forceWithin this prohibition.Th
	"The Black Dog" by Jan Sand This straight streetCalled Kingston Avenue,Black asphalt at the center,Curbed, where people strewThe wreckage of technology,Meals half consumed, in foil,Cardboard boxes, black bagg
	"Super Thoughts" by Jan Sand The comic book has made it to the screen en masseTo satisfy the literary tastesOf the unliterary class.We are informed as to how The flying fighting jumping menMasked and hooded and univ

	"Sleep" by Jan Sand The sharp cold corners of the dayDeny the soft foundries where the IUndoes all regulation. Not locationNor chopping minutes' disciplinesCan marshal marching corps from liquid instances
	"Evaluation" by Jan Sand From sperm and egg, two points of view,We joined in enterprise,Proliferating from those twoTo macroscopic size.Our children, now, are multiskilledIn industries complex.We could hav
	"The Absolutes" by Jan Sand Is it intelligent for a stoneTo fly in perfect parabolic lineWhen thrown?Or is it only elemental persistenceTo slide along a trackOf minimum resistance?Any rock will qu
	"Snakes And Apples" by Jan Sand The snake shows sinuosities,Celebrates the sinister.Signals salacious suggestions,Shrouding stated sexualitiesIn slitherings sinusoidal,A sustenance of strange satanicSuperiorities.
	"The Funny Old Man" by Jan Sand There was an old man who was lonely and grimAnd excessively technically minded.He lived with a cat and an owl that was fatAnd a fancy new clock. He'd designed it.Every hour it rang with a
	"Letter from the Warmer Regions" by Jan Sand This guy in the other pit.He's got a better demon than me.His can taunt with a sharper wit.Mine's mind is weak, I must admit.Frank, over there, gets the common stuff.Acid d
	"Sea Note" by Jan Sand The sea in its seasonsNeed not supply reasonsFor flipping and slopping,For wetness and swish,For frothing and chopping,And swirling its fish,For rising and fallingAnd endless
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