Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino
has been interviewing me over the past couple of years. I can't begin to express the gratitude I feel for the hard work he has put into this, his patience and generosity. The interview is now up at The Argotist Online. Thanks also to the publisher, Jeffrey Side. The site also has a number of articles by GVST, other interviews conducted by him, including one with Colin Wilson, and some of his poetry. There are interviews on the site with Charles Bernstein, Ron Silliman, Marjorie Perloff, Hank Lazer, Jack Foley, Joanne Kyger in conversation with Simon Pettet and many others and a rich poetry section as well, here:
The Argotist Online
Distribution Automatique
Saturday, September 8
"It Gives No Help..."
"if I am shocked at the undeserved suffering in the world, that shock is not thinking. Here is a little book of verse, the work of one well skilled in his art, but it is simply the shock and nothing more. Much of modern literature is of the same kind and it is worthless. It gives no help."
*Last Pages of a Journal* by Mark Rutherford (Oxford University Press, 1915)
"if I am shocked at the undeserved suffering in the world, that shock is not thinking. Here is a little book of verse, the work of one well skilled in his art, but it is simply the shock and nothing more. Much of modern literature is of the same kind and it is worthless. It gives no help."
*Last Pages of a Journal* by Mark Rutherford (Oxford University Press, 1915)
Thursday, September 6
An Actor Compares
Michael Lally (Lally's Alley) posts an insider view of Delpy's excellent *Two Days in Paris*, a movie dumbly panned by a some myopic critics.
*************
TEXT LOSES TIME by Nico Vassilakis
(pre-ordering info)
ManyPenny Press is pleased to announce the release of TEXT LOSES TIME by Nico Vassilakis. This necessary work spans roughly 15 years of the author's efforts in both textual and visual writing. It is Vassilakis' first full-length book.
TEXT LOSES TIME
Afterword by Nick Piombino
188 pp.
ISBN-10: 0-9798478-0-X
ISBN-13: 978-0-9798478-0-6
CONTACT AND ORDERING INFORMATION:
ManyPenny Press
1111 E. Fifth St.
Moscow, ID 83843
$15.95 + $2 postage
(Advance orders will receive the book post-paid.)
AUTHOR'S STATEMENT:
This book intends to present both verbal and visual poetries as equal. Though notions of poetics have shifted and swerved, what has stayed solid throughout is that the alphabet, the word - however arranged - contains, within it, dual significance. First, the proto-historic role of the visual conveyance of represented fact. Second, the overriding desire of human utterance to substantiate existence. In conjoining these two models this book hopes to form a third, blurred value. Thought and experience are factors that accrue, while staring and writing help resolve and conclude. Text itself is an amalgam of units of meaning. As you stare at text you notice the visual aspects of letters. As one stares further, meaning loses its hierarchy and words discorporate and the alphabet itself begins to surface. Shapes, spatial relations and visual associations emerge as one delves further. Alphabetic bits or parts or snippets of letters can create an added visual vocabulary amidst the very text one is reading. One aim, to this end, is to merge and hinge visual and textual writing into workable forms. This book collects some of these experiments.
SAMPLE OF WORK FROM "TEXT LOSES TIME":
FROM "THE SCAFFOLDING"
The Rhymes of Vellum
A boy or girl, Vellum, blows a few papers in the wind It answers noise Hopping, hopped. Tapping, tapped Swim sweet twins swing twig Think of losing, serendipity or the wings of a sentence He will get them, but not tell you where they were I like to drink through my brother's center A finger's rose begins A shadow grows down the sidewalk Clapping, clapped
It helps to rip this box open Sound harbor, sound hole Blind rose is a very shape friend I want a shirt to visit my slacks Moon noose soon loose A good look at the cookbook - lots of o's - ghost epaulets on the shoulders of a paragraph Dishes mixes, buses guesses I sit down to work; I draw with my right hand The response sadly is never Living as wide as it gets Think sift You could fault the long moth, the dog lost in soft fog, but it's the song's cost, its crust I got frogs in my throat, a forehead throat Boris said, "Your throat's red." Timothy hums a nail into the wood I run uphill swimming The test isn't over The floor's hard The new girl at school Can you look at a book without getting caught on a line? Like radio, writing is a broadcast They found people in the mailbox A huge gem in a cage Susan flips back to the glossary Only a certain type of fastener The letter "R" in each corner of a page Unexpectedly the middle is empty Next, write your best trick Most banjo. Odd pretty piece asleep A drum whisking discard into cream In this way we raise our pigs on fire & Kenny is always six yards old The donkey said, "Enough." The donkey said, "English." Dark thoughts won't cure light sickness The ladder moved slightly throws the world in disarray The teacher's a bird and flies out the window They had found their clown center Art will say, "I like to pitch. What is your name?" Art will say, "Hi, I'm Art. I like to pitch. What's your name?" Slowly toward a large bird Paper hats, cats A lot of noise comes to visit Long thin water in a line of people I called you once today to say geese make a village of gold & both of my little friends like to sing. Their secret voices are beautiful Spray Spray Spray
COMMENTS ON TEXT LOSES TIME:
"Part nested Minimalist cubes and part laser light that won't diverge across distance, Nico Vassilakis' poetry seems to ask whether we are primates at play on a baseball diamond of memory and desire beside mural-lined public structures slipping toward infinite regression.
Richly iterative, these pairings and alphabets escape the mirror to thrill us with variation and sting all forms of complacency. Vassilakis extends Oulipian strategies: Perec references, lamellisections, crystalline build-outs and transpositions, a scat of nonrepresentational vocables, lettered whirlwinds giving speed for legibility, -- "extracting the gem through layers of gauze" and, other times, lowering a gem into a fold.
Can an argument between a machine that produces texts and "longhand into tiny notebooks" wake us up? In pain, "the throbbing thumb" makes us "attend to the living."
If Vassilakis revises the rock lyric "meet-the-new-boss, same-as-the-old-boss" to "meet the solipsistic era. same as the old
solipsistic era," is treatment to be had in a bar, a science lab, or will it reach us over the radio? Try a road trip, so "you can't afford to blink, to be blind for even a second" going through a colander out where dust is breeding and "glass traps lighting" like no scene you've seen in quite this way. Through crevices, perforations, punctures, piercings, pinholes, see
neighborhoods as "that place where organized sleeping happens." So, look for a faceted colony that "sometimes congeals.""
--Deborah Meadows
"Nico Vassilakis' Text Loses Time unhinges the folds of the book and the word; as the 'folded loose leafed sheets whiz past your ears' you can hear the echoes of meaning. The words flake off the page like aged paint leaving a patina of colour and meaning on the surface and a growing heap of signification at our feet. Here the means of writing rise up and turn
against our expectation, lurching into new spaces. Letters become tactile, meaning becomes rubbery, and both reading and writing become a new collaboration."
--derek beaulieu
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY:
Nico Vassilakis was born in New York City in 1963. He has co-written and performed a one-man play about experimental composer Morton Feldman. Vassilakis is co-founder and curator for the Subtext Reading Series and editor of Clear-Cut: Anthology (A Collection of Seattle Writers). He has been a guest-editor of WOS#35: Northwest Concrete and Visual Poetry and his visual poetry videos have been shown worldwide at festivals and exhibitions of innovative language arts. In 1998, Vassilakis co-produced, with Rebecca Brown, a 24-hour "Gertrude Stein-a-thon." His work has appeared in numerous magazines, including Ribot, Caliban, Aufgabe, Chain, Talisman, Central Park and Golden Handcuffs Review. He works for Fantagraphic Books and lives in Seattle with his son, Quixote.
Chapbooks:
Askew (bcc press), Stampologue (RASP), Orange: A Manual (Sub Rosa Press), Diptychs: Visual Poems (Otolith), Pond Ring (nine muses books), sequence (Burning Press), Enoch and Aloe (Last Generation Press), The Colander (housepress), Flattened Missive (P.I.S.O.R. Publications), Species Pieces (gong press), KYOO (Burning Press) and others.
DVD:
CONCRETE: Movies (Sub Rosa Press)
CONTACT AND ORDERING INFORMATION:
ManyPenny Press
1111 E. Fifth St.
Moscow, ID 83843
$15.95 + $2 postage
(Advance orders will receive the book post-paid.)
________________________________________________________________________
Michael Lally (Lally's Alley) posts an insider view of Delpy's excellent *Two Days in Paris*, a movie dumbly panned by a some myopic critics.
*************
TEXT LOSES TIME by Nico Vassilakis
(pre-ordering info)
ManyPenny Press is pleased to announce the release of TEXT LOSES TIME by Nico Vassilakis. This necessary work spans roughly 15 years of the author's efforts in both textual and visual writing. It is Vassilakis' first full-length book.
TEXT LOSES TIME
Afterword by Nick Piombino
188 pp.
ISBN-10: 0-9798478-0-X
ISBN-13: 978-0-9798478-0-6
CONTACT AND ORDERING INFORMATION:
ManyPenny Press
1111 E. Fifth St.
Moscow, ID 83843
$15.95 + $2 postage
(Advance orders will receive the book post-paid.)
AUTHOR'S STATEMENT:
This book intends to present both verbal and visual poetries as equal. Though notions of poetics have shifted and swerved, what has stayed solid throughout is that the alphabet, the word - however arranged - contains, within it, dual significance. First, the proto-historic role of the visual conveyance of represented fact. Second, the overriding desire of human utterance to substantiate existence. In conjoining these two models this book hopes to form a third, blurred value. Thought and experience are factors that accrue, while staring and writing help resolve and conclude. Text itself is an amalgam of units of meaning. As you stare at text you notice the visual aspects of letters. As one stares further, meaning loses its hierarchy and words discorporate and the alphabet itself begins to surface. Shapes, spatial relations and visual associations emerge as one delves further. Alphabetic bits or parts or snippets of letters can create an added visual vocabulary amidst the very text one is reading. One aim, to this end, is to merge and hinge visual and textual writing into workable forms. This book collects some of these experiments.
SAMPLE OF WORK FROM "TEXT LOSES TIME":
FROM "THE SCAFFOLDING"
The Rhymes of Vellum
A boy or girl, Vellum, blows a few papers in the wind It answers noise Hopping, hopped. Tapping, tapped Swim sweet twins swing twig Think of losing, serendipity or the wings of a sentence He will get them, but not tell you where they were I like to drink through my brother's center A finger's rose begins A shadow grows down the sidewalk Clapping, clapped
It helps to rip this box open Sound harbor, sound hole Blind rose is a very shape friend I want a shirt to visit my slacks Moon noose soon loose A good look at the cookbook - lots of o's - ghost epaulets on the shoulders of a paragraph Dishes mixes, buses guesses I sit down to work; I draw with my right hand The response sadly is never Living as wide as it gets Think sift You could fault the long moth, the dog lost in soft fog, but it's the song's cost, its crust I got frogs in my throat, a forehead throat Boris said, "Your throat's red." Timothy hums a nail into the wood I run uphill swimming The test isn't over The floor's hard The new girl at school Can you look at a book without getting caught on a line? Like radio, writing is a broadcast They found people in the mailbox A huge gem in a cage Susan flips back to the glossary Only a certain type of fastener The letter "R" in each corner of a page Unexpectedly the middle is empty Next, write your best trick Most banjo. Odd pretty piece asleep A drum whisking discard into cream In this way we raise our pigs on fire & Kenny is always six yards old The donkey said, "Enough." The donkey said, "English." Dark thoughts won't cure light sickness The ladder moved slightly throws the world in disarray The teacher's a bird and flies out the window They had found their clown center Art will say, "I like to pitch. What is your name?" Art will say, "Hi, I'm Art. I like to pitch. What's your name?" Slowly toward a large bird Paper hats, cats A lot of noise comes to visit Long thin water in a line of people I called you once today to say geese make a village of gold & both of my little friends like to sing. Their secret voices are beautiful Spray Spray Spray
COMMENTS ON TEXT LOSES TIME:
"Part nested Minimalist cubes and part laser light that won't diverge across distance, Nico Vassilakis' poetry seems to ask whether we are primates at play on a baseball diamond of memory and desire beside mural-lined public structures slipping toward infinite regression.
Richly iterative, these pairings and alphabets escape the mirror to thrill us with variation and sting all forms of complacency. Vassilakis extends Oulipian strategies: Perec references, lamellisections, crystalline build-outs and transpositions, a scat of nonrepresentational vocables, lettered whirlwinds giving speed for legibility, -- "extracting the gem through layers of gauze" and, other times, lowering a gem into a fold.
Can an argument between a machine that produces texts and "longhand into tiny notebooks" wake us up? In pain, "the throbbing thumb" makes us "attend to the living."
If Vassilakis revises the rock lyric "meet-the-new-boss, same-as-the-old-boss" to "meet the solipsistic era. same as the old
solipsistic era," is treatment to be had in a bar, a science lab, or will it reach us over the radio? Try a road trip, so "you can't afford to blink, to be blind for even a second" going through a colander out where dust is breeding and "glass traps lighting" like no scene you've seen in quite this way. Through crevices, perforations, punctures, piercings, pinholes, see
neighborhoods as "that place where organized sleeping happens." So, look for a faceted colony that "sometimes congeals.""
--Deborah Meadows
"Nico Vassilakis' Text Loses Time unhinges the folds of the book and the word; as the 'folded loose leafed sheets whiz past your ears' you can hear the echoes of meaning. The words flake off the page like aged paint leaving a patina of colour and meaning on the surface and a growing heap of signification at our feet. Here the means of writing rise up and turn
against our expectation, lurching into new spaces. Letters become tactile, meaning becomes rubbery, and both reading and writing become a new collaboration."
--derek beaulieu
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY:
Nico Vassilakis was born in New York City in 1963. He has co-written and performed a one-man play about experimental composer Morton Feldman. Vassilakis is co-founder and curator for the Subtext Reading Series and editor of Clear-Cut: Anthology (A Collection of Seattle Writers). He has been a guest-editor of WOS#35: Northwest Concrete and Visual Poetry and his visual poetry videos have been shown worldwide at festivals and exhibitions of innovative language arts. In 1998, Vassilakis co-produced, with Rebecca Brown, a 24-hour "Gertrude Stein-a-thon." His work has appeared in numerous magazines, including Ribot, Caliban, Aufgabe, Chain, Talisman, Central Park and Golden Handcuffs Review. He works for Fantagraphic Books and lives in Seattle with his son, Quixote.
Chapbooks:
Askew (bcc press), Stampologue (RASP), Orange: A Manual (Sub Rosa Press), Diptychs: Visual Poems (Otolith), Pond Ring (nine muses books), sequence (Burning Press), Enoch and Aloe (Last Generation Press), The Colander (housepress), Flattened Missive (P.I.S.O.R. Publications), Species Pieces (gong press), KYOO (Burning Press) and others.
DVD:
CONCRETE: Movies (Sub Rosa Press)
CONTACT AND ORDERING INFORMATION:
ManyPenny Press
1111 E. Fifth St.
Moscow, ID 83843
$15.95 + $2 postage
(Advance orders will receive the book post-paid.)
________________________________________________________________________
Wednesday, September 5
Saturday, September 1
Wednesday, August 29
Saturday, August 18
Friday, August 17
Jerome Sala
interviewed by Vincent Katz in Sibila
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Big Brother Is Paying You
Couple Arrested for Wearing Anti-Bush Shirts Settle for $80,000- via The Huffington Post
interviewed by Vincent Katz in Sibila
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Big Brother Is Paying You
Couple Arrested for Wearing Anti-Bush Shirts Settle for $80,000- via The Huffington Post
Wednesday, August 15
Tuesday, August 14
Saturday, August 11
On My Desk
John Ashbery, *Chinese Whispers*, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2002
""If living is a hate crime, so be it.
But, hey- I was around when they invented the Cardiff giant.
I kid you not. God wanted you to know,
so you'd remember to love him..." (LITTLE SICK POEM)
Thomas Alan Brown, *The Aesthetics of Robert Schumann*, Greenwood, 1968
"The power of imagination is the prose of creative power [*Bildungkraft*] or fantasy. It is nothing but a highly intensified, brightly colored memory which animals also possess, since they dream and fear....but fantasy or creative power is something higher; it is the World-Soul of all souls and the elementary spirit of the remaining powers." (Schumann)
Ray DiPalma & Paul Vangelisti, *Uptown Vaunt*, Otis Laboratory Press, March 2007
"Elegaic in name only, there is no signature to accomodate the surcease of whatever future was lost in those years. Mornings there is the winter wren's 2-5 notes, followed by a trill, even when there may be no warning because finally you will blunder into dying as you've done about everything else. Just like the other night with one of those innumerable beautiful young women who approach you, the old master, even in spite of your caution, because she has a boyfriend who's building in his room a model of the Danube- until she will later understand."
Eli Drabman, *Daylight on the Wires* Vigilance Society
"[There was a wild place of limitation]/every kind of beast learned by heart/to fear it, to gallop full-throttle into/houses made/made from infinity's/nearness (because)her hair falls/into mud, becoming hoofprint, her gallop widens out, finding/voice (because) the fantasies/of gender, threnody, loose us /back upon the margins"
Patrick F.Durgin, *Imitation Poems*, ATTICUS/FINCH, 2007
"Is there anything to drink? Who am I speaking/with? Can I come home? Will you have me as I am?/How am I? How are you? Who built this ship? Is it/improper to ask? You're procrastinating, now. So kiss me."
Mitch Highfill, Rebis, Openmouth Press,2007
"Grind the brain with strong/vinegar or the urine of a young/boy until it turns black./Black as the heart consumed by hatred"
Mitch Highfill, United Artists Books, 1995
"COMFORTABLE BOMBING AUTHORIZATION
Civilian media damage crew formats
sagacious long face press return.
Conversation strategy needing public
casualities maimed massive children.
Well-fed suicide orchestrated
short plot provocation jaunty hours
opined death attitude"
Joseph Kanon, *Los Alamos*, Dell, 1997
"Santa Fe, however, was pretty. The adobes, which Connolly had never seen, seemed to draw in the sun, holding its light and color like dull penumbras of a flame."
Michael Lally, *Of*, Quiet Lion, 1999
"so here I am,back in LA
looking forward to reading
Elaine Equi's book & already
wondering why she doesn't
mention *me* in it- oh
wow- what is I'm still so
afraid of-
....& it's good, Elaine's book-
so direct & elusive at once
& the poems look like
poems so narrow & short"
Primo Levi, *The Drowned and the Saved*, Vintage, 1989
"Compassion and brutality can coexist in the same individual and in the same moment, despite all the logic; and for all that, compassion itself chides logic. There is no proportion between the pity we feel and the extent of the pain by which the pity is aroused: a single Anne Frank excites more emotion than the myriads who suffered as she did but whose image has remained in the shadows. Perhaps it is necessary that it be so. If we had to and were able to suffer the sufferings of everyone, we could not live."
C. J. Martin, *City*, Vigilance
"So CITY was mourning & they missed it,
mourning but not really answering.
A toy, a doll's eyes, for I have
a head now, too, were all manner--
instead they live upon have until now.
Not a dozen mourn on the road to Carna."
K. Silem Mohammad, Anne Boyer eds., *Abraham Lincoln#1* Spring/Summer 2007 (16 poets)
..."other people leave astral imprints, dead or alive in buildings
you can feel the bad energy from that person's thoughts
tasteless to refer too closely to a person's contact with the Reich/
I feel the rising nausea once again, faced with the appropriation of this terrifying muzzle/
bend down & touch lightly with my iips the white face in the coffin/
The Internet puts me in touch with thousands of them who act as my scouts" (Gary Sullivan)
Mode A, The Grand Piano, Part 3, 2007 (10 poets)
"The dilemma of memory, the demand of remembering to fix meaning has always troubled me. This has at times made me reluctant to continue with this project: when I was a child I threw away my diaries after I filled them up." (Carla Harryman)
Peter Ostwald, *Schumann: The Inner Voices of a Musical Genius", Northeastern University, 1985
"Geniality, getting high, and originality are very closely elated concepts, generally speaking, at least all three are volcanoes, spewing lava, from which one or the other boldly goes forward. Geniality likes to erefct its temples in wine cellars, and getting high is like a handyman, or finally even the left hand itself. Originality is the foot. Besides, a youth wants to understand geniality differently than a man; genial men even hate genial youths for the most part, because both look at each other through reducing lenses. The logical, calcified blockhead would very much like to be genial, but he wheezes away like a fox with sour grapes....In other words, beauty may be (in mimicry of the sisters Grace and Charity), amost essential covering that entices us to geniality. Available for everything but fit for nothing- now like butterflies, flimsy, flitting, fluttering, flying, and fondling- now like elephants, sullen, slow, trampling, and crushing- now soft and gentle like virgins- now strong and wild like a lion woken from its slumber. Female delicacy and frivolity, male brutality and destructiveness- like a chameleon that assumes every color and shading-" (Schumann, June 1828)
Phyllis Rosenzweig, editor, Primary Writing 5/07 (2 poets)
"We can barely see what's out there
Overwhelmed as we are by repetition
Though I depend on it for what sense
Of continuity remains to me when
I see you I know I'm at work....
My skin is made of your decision
We write with paint on old newsprint
There are poets in the debris by the door
What comes in goes out
Hello name we say
What do you want?" (Laura Moriarty)
Wolfgang Schivelbusch, *The Culture of Defeat: On National Trauma, Mourning and Recovery*, Metropolitan, 2001
"The Frondists, who opposed French absolutism and, after their defeat, traded the sword for the pen, were typical "losers" of this reflective sort. The memoirs, and aphorisms of Saint-Simon and La Rochefoucauld were ultimately both a sublimated form of revenge and a social critque that led directly to the Enlightenment and the French Revolution. In the twentieth century, Russell Jacoby made a similar point about West European Marxism. Stumbling from one political defeat to the next, it retained a crucial potential- a flexibility, an openness, and a humanity- that Soviet Marxism, its twin brother, lost while triumphantly marching foward."
Mark Young, editor, Otoliths, issue five, part two; Southern Autumn, 2007 (15 poets)
"VANISHED INTO TIME THEORY
HAS MELTED POISONED METAPHOR
& TRANSPLANTED CRANIAL LIGHT" (Andrew Topel)
Contradicta
Envy would not be such a bad thing, except that we always envy the wrong ones.
***********************
To know how to begin things, and mostly see them through, yet still enjoy the suspense between, is a secret shared by few.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
--Nada--
simulated direct from--
ululations
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Invisible Notes
Peter Ciccariello
John Ashbery, *Chinese Whispers*, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2002
""If living is a hate crime, so be it.
But, hey- I was around when they invented the Cardiff giant.
I kid you not. God wanted you to know,
so you'd remember to love him..." (LITTLE SICK POEM)
Thomas Alan Brown, *The Aesthetics of Robert Schumann*, Greenwood, 1968
"The power of imagination is the prose of creative power [*Bildungkraft*] or fantasy. It is nothing but a highly intensified, brightly colored memory which animals also possess, since they dream and fear....but fantasy or creative power is something higher; it is the World-Soul of all souls and the elementary spirit of the remaining powers." (Schumann)
Ray DiPalma & Paul Vangelisti, *Uptown Vaunt*, Otis Laboratory Press, March 2007
"Elegaic in name only, there is no signature to accomodate the surcease of whatever future was lost in those years. Mornings there is the winter wren's 2-5 notes, followed by a trill, even when there may be no warning because finally you will blunder into dying as you've done about everything else. Just like the other night with one of those innumerable beautiful young women who approach you, the old master, even in spite of your caution, because she has a boyfriend who's building in his room a model of the Danube- until she will later understand."
Eli Drabman, *Daylight on the Wires* Vigilance Society
"[There was a wild place of limitation]/every kind of beast learned by heart/to fear it, to gallop full-throttle into/houses made/made from infinity's/nearness (because)her hair falls/into mud, becoming hoofprint, her gallop widens out, finding/voice (because) the fantasies/of gender, threnody, loose us /back upon the margins"
Patrick F.Durgin, *Imitation Poems*, ATTICUS/FINCH, 2007
"Is there anything to drink? Who am I speaking/with? Can I come home? Will you have me as I am?/How am I? How are you? Who built this ship? Is it/improper to ask? You're procrastinating, now. So kiss me."
Mitch Highfill, Rebis, Openmouth Press,2007
"Grind the brain with strong/vinegar or the urine of a young/boy until it turns black./Black as the heart consumed by hatred"
Mitch Highfill, United Artists Books, 1995
"COMFORTABLE BOMBING AUTHORIZATION
Civilian media damage crew formats
sagacious long face press return.
Conversation strategy needing public
casualities maimed massive children.
Well-fed suicide orchestrated
short plot provocation jaunty hours
opined death attitude"
Joseph Kanon, *Los Alamos*, Dell, 1997
"Santa Fe, however, was pretty. The adobes, which Connolly had never seen, seemed to draw in the sun, holding its light and color like dull penumbras of a flame."
Michael Lally, *Of*, Quiet Lion, 1999
"so here I am,back in LA
looking forward to reading
Elaine Equi's book & already
wondering why she doesn't
mention *me* in it- oh
wow- what is I'm still so
afraid of-
....& it's good, Elaine's book-
so direct & elusive at once
& the poems look like
poems so narrow & short"
Primo Levi, *The Drowned and the Saved*, Vintage, 1989
"Compassion and brutality can coexist in the same individual and in the same moment, despite all the logic; and for all that, compassion itself chides logic. There is no proportion between the pity we feel and the extent of the pain by which the pity is aroused: a single Anne Frank excites more emotion than the myriads who suffered as she did but whose image has remained in the shadows. Perhaps it is necessary that it be so. If we had to and were able to suffer the sufferings of everyone, we could not live."
C. J. Martin, *City*, Vigilance
"So CITY was mourning & they missed it,
mourning but not really answering.
A toy, a doll's eyes, for I have
a head now, too, were all manner--
instead they live upon have until now.
Not a dozen mourn on the road to Carna."
K. Silem Mohammad, Anne Boyer eds., *Abraham Lincoln#1* Spring/Summer 2007 (16 poets)
..."other people leave astral imprints, dead or alive in buildings
you can feel the bad energy from that person's thoughts
tasteless to refer too closely to a person's contact with the Reich/
I feel the rising nausea once again, faced with the appropriation of this terrifying muzzle/
bend down & touch lightly with my iips the white face in the coffin/
The Internet puts me in touch with thousands of them who act as my scouts" (Gary Sullivan)
Mode A, The Grand Piano, Part 3, 2007 (10 poets)
"The dilemma of memory, the demand of remembering to fix meaning has always troubled me. This has at times made me reluctant to continue with this project: when I was a child I threw away my diaries after I filled them up." (Carla Harryman)
Peter Ostwald, *Schumann: The Inner Voices of a Musical Genius", Northeastern University, 1985
"Geniality, getting high, and originality are very closely elated concepts, generally speaking, at least all three are volcanoes, spewing lava, from which one or the other boldly goes forward. Geniality likes to erefct its temples in wine cellars, and getting high is like a handyman, or finally even the left hand itself. Originality is the foot. Besides, a youth wants to understand geniality differently than a man; genial men even hate genial youths for the most part, because both look at each other through reducing lenses. The logical, calcified blockhead would very much like to be genial, but he wheezes away like a fox with sour grapes....In other words, beauty may be (in mimicry of the sisters Grace and Charity), amost essential covering that entices us to geniality. Available for everything but fit for nothing- now like butterflies, flimsy, flitting, fluttering, flying, and fondling- now like elephants, sullen, slow, trampling, and crushing- now soft and gentle like virgins- now strong and wild like a lion woken from its slumber. Female delicacy and frivolity, male brutality and destructiveness- like a chameleon that assumes every color and shading-" (Schumann, June 1828)
Phyllis Rosenzweig, editor, Primary Writing 5/07 (2 poets)
"We can barely see what's out there
Overwhelmed as we are by repetition
Though I depend on it for what sense
Of continuity remains to me when
I see you I know I'm at work....
My skin is made of your decision
We write with paint on old newsprint
There are poets in the debris by the door
What comes in goes out
Hello name we say
What do you want?" (Laura Moriarty)
Wolfgang Schivelbusch, *The Culture of Defeat: On National Trauma, Mourning and Recovery*, Metropolitan, 2001
"The Frondists, who opposed French absolutism and, after their defeat, traded the sword for the pen, were typical "losers" of this reflective sort. The memoirs, and aphorisms of Saint-Simon and La Rochefoucauld were ultimately both a sublimated form of revenge and a social critque that led directly to the Enlightenment and the French Revolution. In the twentieth century, Russell Jacoby made a similar point about West European Marxism. Stumbling from one political defeat to the next, it retained a crucial potential- a flexibility, an openness, and a humanity- that Soviet Marxism, its twin brother, lost while triumphantly marching foward."
Mark Young, editor, Otoliths, issue five, part two; Southern Autumn, 2007 (15 poets)
"VANISHED INTO TIME THEORY
HAS MELTED POISONED METAPHOR
& TRANSPLANTED CRANIAL LIGHT" (Andrew Topel)
Contradicta
Envy would not be such a bad thing, except that we always envy the wrong ones.
***********************
To know how to begin things, and mostly see them through, yet still enjoy the suspense between, is a secret shared by few.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
--Nada--
simulated direct from--
ululations
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Invisible Notes
Peter Ciccariello
Tuesday, August 7
Monday, August 6
Drew Gardner's Poetics Orchestra
peformed on Sunday with poets Nada Gordon and Kimberly Lyons. There were readings as well by Gary Sullivan, Kimberly Lyons, Mitch Highfill, Brenda IIjima and others before and after sets with the Orchestra. Nada, who was in spectacular form yesterday at the BPC was brought back, not suprisingly, for an encore at the end of the Orchestra's second set.
I am going to try very hard not to sound overly melodramatic- I admit I sometimes have a tendency to exagerrate in favor of work I wish to be noticed- but I've had such an experience of watching a ripening talent like Nada's hit the stratosphere enough times in my life to know what it looks like, and a few of these were: Buddy Holly at the Brooklyn Paramount in 1958, Ted Berrigan at St Mark's in 1966, Blondie at CBGB's in 1975, and Holly Hughes at the Wow Cafe in 1985. If you weren't there, and probably you weren't, you should do everything in your power to watch Nada Gordon perform as soon as possible. Nada read mostly from her new book *Folly*, Her second set involved a section of her new Roof Book in which three girls rap while trying on clothes at Target, who somehow manage to teach each other-and us-more about life and postmodern philosophy than a barrel full of Derridas ever could hope to; she ended the set with a heartbreakingly funny, hypnotically repetitive recital of a part of a song made famous by none other than Dean Martin: "when the moon hits your eye." And I'm here to tell you the audience knew it did. Other awesome performances took place on the BPC stage yesterday as well: Gary Sullivan's grandmother was hilariously portrayed as doing things with her gastrointestinal system that would qualify her for a Barnum and Bailey acrobatic contract, and employed his voice in ways that made me sometimes wonder if he was channeling beings from another dimension and it all starts to remind me of a comic from my chlldhood called Plastic Man; Kimberly Lyons read some of her most deftly charged, nostalgically lyrical works excellently with the Orchestra as well (who were also in top form today, by the way, under Drew's able baton}; Mitch Highfill read with that terrific baritone voice of his from his upcoming "Abraham Lincoln" (from new publisher K. Silem Mohammad) chapbook *Mothlight* as well as one poem from his new chapbook-Rebis- just out from seasoned publisher Christina Strong's Openmouth Press, and Brenda Iijima surprised the audience with handstands, bravely defying ringing cellphones and crying babies with poetry that for moments still somehow transported me back to recent quiet states of reverie in the varied moods of Cape Cod's waves and clouds, partly, it seems, by means of her frequent mentions of sunscreen; Jill Stengel was followed by Sean Cole, whose wit and polished verbal pyrotechnics concluded this day of shining performances with the glittering bright finish it well deserved.
I left sorry that I had only been able to attend only one of the Boog City events, as this one well qualified for one the best sawbucks I've ever spent. And I keep reading that ubiquitous mag in newsprint form published by David Kirschenbaum with pleasure every time I find it..
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Ha-Ha America: Antonioni and the Importance of Being Earnest
New Beauty from the Old World
via wood s lot
peformed on Sunday with poets Nada Gordon and Kimberly Lyons. There were readings as well by Gary Sullivan, Kimberly Lyons, Mitch Highfill, Brenda IIjima and others before and after sets with the Orchestra. Nada, who was in spectacular form yesterday at the BPC was brought back, not suprisingly, for an encore at the end of the Orchestra's second set.
I am going to try very hard not to sound overly melodramatic- I admit I sometimes have a tendency to exagerrate in favor of work I wish to be noticed- but I've had such an experience of watching a ripening talent like Nada's hit the stratosphere enough times in my life to know what it looks like, and a few of these were: Buddy Holly at the Brooklyn Paramount in 1958, Ted Berrigan at St Mark's in 1966, Blondie at CBGB's in 1975, and Holly Hughes at the Wow Cafe in 1985. If you weren't there, and probably you weren't, you should do everything in your power to watch Nada Gordon perform as soon as possible. Nada read mostly from her new book *Folly*, Her second set involved a section of her new Roof Book in which three girls rap while trying on clothes at Target, who somehow manage to teach each other-and us-more about life and postmodern philosophy than a barrel full of Derridas ever could hope to; she ended the set with a heartbreakingly funny, hypnotically repetitive recital of a part of a song made famous by none other than Dean Martin: "when the moon hits your eye." And I'm here to tell you the audience knew it did. Other awesome performances took place on the BPC stage yesterday as well: Gary Sullivan's grandmother was hilariously portrayed as doing things with her gastrointestinal system that would qualify her for a Barnum and Bailey acrobatic contract, and employed his voice in ways that made me sometimes wonder if he was channeling beings from another dimension and it all starts to remind me of a comic from my chlldhood called Plastic Man; Kimberly Lyons read some of her most deftly charged, nostalgically lyrical works excellently with the Orchestra as well (who were also in top form today, by the way, under Drew's able baton}; Mitch Highfill read with that terrific baritone voice of his from his upcoming "Abraham Lincoln" (from new publisher K. Silem Mohammad) chapbook *Mothlight* as well as one poem from his new chapbook-Rebis- just out from seasoned publisher Christina Strong's Openmouth Press, and Brenda Iijima surprised the audience with handstands, bravely defying ringing cellphones and crying babies with poetry that for moments still somehow transported me back to recent quiet states of reverie in the varied moods of Cape Cod's waves and clouds, partly, it seems, by means of her frequent mentions of sunscreen; Jill Stengel was followed by Sean Cole, whose wit and polished verbal pyrotechnics concluded this day of shining performances with the glittering bright finish it well deserved.
I left sorry that I had only been able to attend only one of the Boog City events, as this one well qualified for one the best sawbucks I've ever spent. And I keep reading that ubiquitous mag in newsprint form published by David Kirschenbaum with pleasure every time I find it..
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Ha-Ha America: Antonioni and the Importance of Being Earnest
New Beauty from the Old World
via wood s lot
Sunday, August 5
Boog City Festival: The Penultimate Event
SUNDAY AUGUST 5, 1:30 P.M., 3:45 P.M.
Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery
NYC
$5 1:30 p.m.
The Future of Small Press Publishing
curated and moderated by Mitch Highfil
l
featuring David Baratier, editor Pavement Saw Press (Columbus, Ohio)
Bob Hershon, co-editor Hanging Loose Press
Brenda Iijima, editor Portable Press at Yo-Yo Labs (Brooklyn)
Jill Stengel, editor a+bend press (Davis, Calif.)
Readings and musical performances
3:45 p.m.-The Poetics Orchestra
4:15 p.m.-Kimberly Lyons
4:30 p.m.-Gary Sullivan
4:45 p.m.-Brenda Iijima
5:00 p.m.- break
5:15 p.m.-The Poetics Orchestra
5:35 p.m.-Jill Stengel
5:55 p.m.-Mitch Highfill
6:10 p.m.-Nada Gordon
6:25 p.m.-Sean Cole
Directions: F/V to 2nd Ave., 6 to BleeckerVenue is at E.1st St.
_________________________________________________________________
SUNDAY AUGUST 5, 1:30 P.M., 3:45 P.M.
Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery
NYC
$5 1:30 p.m.
The Future of Small Press Publishing
curated and moderated by Mitch Highfil
l
featuring David Baratier, editor Pavement Saw Press (Columbus, Ohio)
Bob Hershon, co-editor Hanging Loose Press
Brenda Iijima, editor Portable Press at Yo-Yo Labs (Brooklyn)
Jill Stengel, editor a+bend press (Davis, Calif.)
Readings and musical performances
3:45 p.m.-The Poetics Orchestra
4:15 p.m.-Kimberly Lyons
4:30 p.m.-Gary Sullivan
4:45 p.m.-Brenda Iijima
5:00 p.m.- break
5:15 p.m.-The Poetics Orchestra
5:35 p.m.-Jill Stengel
5:55 p.m.-Mitch Highfill
6:10 p.m.-Nada Gordon
6:25 p.m.-Sean Cole
Directions: F/V to 2nd Ave., 6 to BleeckerVenue is at E.1st St.
_________________________________________________________________
Thursday, August 2
Even Newer: Art as Comfort discussion continues onThe Newer Metaphysicals
Nicholas Manning said
"Nick, Suzanne, you'd know more about this than me, but I wonder if it wouldn't be also interesting to introduce someone like Piaget into this type of discussion: the idea of 'play' as a constructive psychic process, which may be another spin on "composition" as Nada sees it (not so much "straightening things out" as testing, trying, embodying).
I know that my mother, in her work with children in developmental psych, encourages them to use dolls, puppets and drawings to construct different images, symbologies, narratives, in ways which often deeply resemble poetic processes..."
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Young at Art
Otoliths 6
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Nada Gordon's *Folly* might be funny but art isn't easy: listen up
Critical Cities
Stan Apps: Jacket MagazineOn Nada Gordon's Tolerance
Nicholas Manning said
"Nick, Suzanne, you'd know more about this than me, but I wonder if it wouldn't be also interesting to introduce someone like Piaget into this type of discussion: the idea of 'play' as a constructive psychic process, which may be another spin on "composition" as Nada sees it (not so much "straightening things out" as testing, trying, embodying).
I know that my mother, in her work with children in developmental psych, encourages them to use dolls, puppets and drawings to construct different images, symbologies, narratives, in ways which often deeply resemble poetic processes..."
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Young at Art
Otoliths 6
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Nada Gordon's *Folly* might be funny but art isn't easy: listen up
Critical Cities
Stan Apps: Jacket MagazineOn Nada Gordon's Tolerance
Wednesday, August 1
Art as Comfort- the discussion continues on
The New Metaphysical (Nicholas Manning)
Nada said:
"Healing as composition" But she was not sure she believed that.
suzanne said;
"I worked with 70 women
diagnosed with borderline personalitiy disorders
(many of them dual diagnosed with substance abuse
or bipolar)
I gave them amulets
from my medicine pouch
in the form of stories
made up specifically for them;
I told them
their "disorder" was really a perceptual one
and then they worked on altering their perceptions
off all meds
seldom calling the crisis line"
The New Metaphysical (Nicholas Manning)
Nada said:
"Healing as composition" But she was not sure she believed that.
suzanne said;
"I worked with 70 women
diagnosed with borderline personalitiy disorders
(many of them dual diagnosed with substance abuse
or bipolar)
I gave them amulets
from my medicine pouch
in the form of stories
made up specifically for them;
I told them
their "disorder" was really a perceptual one
and then they worked on altering their perceptions
off all meds
seldom calling the crisis line"
Tuesday, July 31
Happy Birthday, Gary Sullivan
Gary shares a birthday with Prino Levi (check out today's wood s lot), which is appropriate, in that Gary is one of the most compassionate people I have ever known.
I am also taking the occasion to proffer Elsewhere fait accompli's fourth Thinking Blogger award.
(Strange coincidence dep't: I was introduced to the writing of Primo Levi just yesterday, by Mira Schor, at Tim's Books, and read the amazing essay The Gray Zone very early this morning).
Gary shares a birthday with Prino Levi (check out today's wood s lot), which is appropriate, in that Gary is one of the most compassionate people I have ever known.
I am also taking the occasion to proffer Elsewhere fait accompli's fourth Thinking Blogger award.
(Strange coincidence dep't: I was introduced to the writing of Primo Levi just yesterday, by Mira Schor, at Tim's Books, and read the amazing essay The Gray Zone very early this morning).
Monday, July 30
On My Desk
Ross Macdonald: The Galton Case, The Ferguson Affair, The Blue Hammer, The Underground Man, Black Money
Cornell Woolrich, Waltz Into Darkness
Last summer, when I was working away on the book version of *fait accompli* I happened to drop by the local used bookstore, Tim's, in Provincetown, and we got to talking about mysteries. I wanted to read something that was unusual for me, and easy, and as I never in my life read one of those, outside of Sherlock Holmes (which I loved), I thought I would try one. He recommended Raymond Chandler, I also found a Sue Grafton, and I was on my way. Grafton has written a series of easy to read mysteries, that are named according to the alphabet, (A is for Alibi, B is for Burglar, C is for Corpse, etc; the latest is S is for Silence). I also read all the Raymond Chandlers I could find. I know I don't have to tell you about those.
I might have read a couple of Ross Macdonald novels last summer, I don't remember; I have my list of about 20 novels I read then. Since I ride a subway to work, one train, I usually read a novel, at least I did up until I started using my Ipod, damn thing. This summer I've been reading Ross Macdonald quite a lot and Joseph Kanon, who I mentioned a few weeks ago - don't miss Alibi!- it's great (that one was a gift from Ray DiPalma, as well as The Good German). My recent interest in postwar Germany dates from my early childhood when I lived in Nurnberg and that amazing Weimar show at the Met last year.
But Ross Macdonald! The more I read him, the more I like him. Macdonald is not only psychologically acute- almost all his plots have to do with family dynamics- but his descriptions are superb, and often poetic to boot. Looking at the page as you read it, you feel like you are watching a movie screen as every sentence jumps out at you whole and transforms itself into a moment in the scene that is taking place. And somehow, the descriptions usually add to the suspense. ("The university had been built on an elevated spur of land that jutted into the sea and was narrowed at its base by a tidal slough. Almost surrounded by water and softened by blue haze, it looked from the distance like a medieval fortress town....Close-up, the buildings shed this romatic aspect. They were half-heartedly modern, cubes and oblongs and slabs that looked as if their architect had spent his life designing business buildings." [The Blue Hammer].
A recent visit to Tim's brought me Cornell Woolrich's great *Waltz into Darkness*- the author was suggested by an acquaintance who is up here, the artist Mira Schor. Waltz into Darkness takes place in the late 19th century in New Orleans and thereabouts. Woolrich is credited, for good reason, for inventing along with Hammett and Chandler, the noir genre. He wrote the story that the film Rear Window was based on. He had a tough life and ended up a recluse. This book is full of plot twists and turns, and is the kind of book I find myself at times exclaiming out loud, as if to the character I am reading about, "Don't do it!"
Great writing: "A vanishing point was bound to be reached eventually. It had been imminent for some time, if he'd only taken the trouble to make inventory. But he hadn't; perhaps he'd been afraid to, afraid in his own mind of the too-exact knowledge that that he would have derived from such a summing-up; the certainty of termination. Afraid of the chill that would have been cast upon their feasting, the shadow that would have dimmed their wine. There was always tomorrow, tomorrow, to make a reckoning. And tomorrow, there was always tomorrow still. And meanwhile the music swelled, and the waltz whirled ever faster, giving no pause for breath."
Anyway, time to go back to Ross Macdonald's *The Underground Man* See you later..."It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and the beach was littered with bodies. It was like a warning vision of the future, when every square foot of the world would be populated. I found a place to sit in the sand beside a youth with a guitar who lay propped against a girl's stomach. I could smell her sun-tan oil, and I felt as if everybody but me was paired off like animals in the dark....I got up and looked around me. Under the stratum of smoke which lay over the city, the air was harshly clear. The low sun was like a spinning yellow frisbee which I could almost reach out and catch..."
Ross Macdonald: The Galton Case, The Ferguson Affair, The Blue Hammer, The Underground Man, Black Money
Cornell Woolrich, Waltz Into Darkness
Last summer, when I was working away on the book version of *fait accompli* I happened to drop by the local used bookstore, Tim's, in Provincetown, and we got to talking about mysteries. I wanted to read something that was unusual for me, and easy, and as I never in my life read one of those, outside of Sherlock Holmes (which I loved), I thought I would try one. He recommended Raymond Chandler, I also found a Sue Grafton, and I was on my way. Grafton has written a series of easy to read mysteries, that are named according to the alphabet, (A is for Alibi, B is for Burglar, C is for Corpse, etc; the latest is S is for Silence). I also read all the Raymond Chandlers I could find. I know I don't have to tell you about those.
I might have read a couple of Ross Macdonald novels last summer, I don't remember; I have my list of about 20 novels I read then. Since I ride a subway to work, one train, I usually read a novel, at least I did up until I started using my Ipod, damn thing. This summer I've been reading Ross Macdonald quite a lot and Joseph Kanon, who I mentioned a few weeks ago - don't miss Alibi!- it's great (that one was a gift from Ray DiPalma, as well as The Good German). My recent interest in postwar Germany dates from my early childhood when I lived in Nurnberg and that amazing Weimar show at the Met last year.
But Ross Macdonald! The more I read him, the more I like him. Macdonald is not only psychologically acute- almost all his plots have to do with family dynamics- but his descriptions are superb, and often poetic to boot. Looking at the page as you read it, you feel like you are watching a movie screen as every sentence jumps out at you whole and transforms itself into a moment in the scene that is taking place. And somehow, the descriptions usually add to the suspense. ("The university had been built on an elevated spur of land that jutted into the sea and was narrowed at its base by a tidal slough. Almost surrounded by water and softened by blue haze, it looked from the distance like a medieval fortress town....Close-up, the buildings shed this romatic aspect. They were half-heartedly modern, cubes and oblongs and slabs that looked as if their architect had spent his life designing business buildings." [The Blue Hammer].
A recent visit to Tim's brought me Cornell Woolrich's great *Waltz into Darkness*- the author was suggested by an acquaintance who is up here, the artist Mira Schor. Waltz into Darkness takes place in the late 19th century in New Orleans and thereabouts. Woolrich is credited, for good reason, for inventing along with Hammett and Chandler, the noir genre. He wrote the story that the film Rear Window was based on. He had a tough life and ended up a recluse. This book is full of plot twists and turns, and is the kind of book I find myself at times exclaiming out loud, as if to the character I am reading about, "Don't do it!"
Great writing: "A vanishing point was bound to be reached eventually. It had been imminent for some time, if he'd only taken the trouble to make inventory. But he hadn't; perhaps he'd been afraid to, afraid in his own mind of the too-exact knowledge that that he would have derived from such a summing-up; the certainty of termination. Afraid of the chill that would have been cast upon their feasting, the shadow that would have dimmed their wine. There was always tomorrow, tomorrow, to make a reckoning. And tomorrow, there was always tomorrow still. And meanwhile the music swelled, and the waltz whirled ever faster, giving no pause for breath."
Anyway, time to go back to Ross Macdonald's *The Underground Man* See you later..."It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and the beach was littered with bodies. It was like a warning vision of the future, when every square foot of the world would be populated. I found a place to sit in the sand beside a youth with a guitar who lay propped against a girl's stomach. I could smell her sun-tan oil, and I felt as if everybody but me was paired off like animals in the dark....I got up and looked around me. Under the stratum of smoke which lay over the city, the air was harshly clear. The low sun was like a spinning yellow frisbee which I could almost reach out and catch..."
Friday, July 27
Nicholas and Nicholas continue their discussion on Manning's essay "Art as Comfort: Some Misgivings on a Therapeutic Poetics"
on The New Metaphysicals (Nicholas Manning)l
on The New Metaphysicals (Nicholas Manning)l
Wednesday, July 25
*fait accompli* third Thinking Blogger Award goes to wood s lot
Mark Woods is a blogger living in Canada whose blog I find to be the most valuable resource on the internet. Mallarme in a poem once imagined a newspaper composed of dreams. wood s lot is the ultimate time traveler's newspaper, bringing you news that stays news. It is the true come dream. On wood s lot you will celebrate Debussy's birthday or the latest essay by Kasey S. Mohammad on the crises of poetry or a series of articles on the subject of happiness. And it is a feast for the eye as well as the mind. It is almost unimaginable that someone could, on a daily basis, provide information that not only feeds the mind but feeds the spirit and the imagination, but this is what you will find constantly at wood s lot.
Our first two awards went to Ray Davis and Tom Beckett.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The Newer Metaphysicals: Art as comfort: some misgivings on a therapeutic poetics. An excellent article by Nicholas Manning with two cents thrown in from Nicholas you-know-who.
Mark Woods is a blogger living in Canada whose blog I find to be the most valuable resource on the internet. Mallarme in a poem once imagined a newspaper composed of dreams. wood s lot is the ultimate time traveler's newspaper, bringing you news that stays news. It is the true come dream. On wood s lot you will celebrate Debussy's birthday or the latest essay by Kasey S. Mohammad on the crises of poetry or a series of articles on the subject of happiness. And it is a feast for the eye as well as the mind. It is almost unimaginable that someone could, on a daily basis, provide information that not only feeds the mind but feeds the spirit and the imagination, but this is what you will find constantly at wood s lot.
Our first two awards went to Ray Davis and Tom Beckett.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The Newer Metaphysicals: Art as comfort: some misgivings on a therapeutic poetics. An excellent article by Nicholas Manning with two cents thrown in from Nicholas you-know-who.
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