Distribution Automatique

Saturday, June 28

Here's the scoop. Stop doing everything else you are doing and listen right now to James Meetze and Aimee Nezhukumatahil on Come On Feel The Monkey

Then you can go back to endlessly staring at Kasey's new links bar.
You Can Say That Again Dep't

In A Dark Time...Loren Webster writes: "No matter how optimistic Bloggers are that they're going to change the world, most of the world is going to avoid the virtual hell of setting up a blog until someone comes up with something a lot easier than this to work with."
Posted by Loren at 04:54 PM | Comments (1)


Being a Pongeian exposition of the word

Narrative is one step back: I look into
a mirror and what I see is
what I intended. But beyond all this
you don't have to hang yourself to
prove that the rope is strong. Such as:
a softie can never be a heavy. Limit a world
becomes more than one text. The before has
died- they were in earnest. What does
it mean to mention an interval? (Squeeze
that one in- "after awhile, you want to
follow it- the power of name.") Close
quotes. On separate ground. A vast
portrait of the American flag- such as
"the poem" and not "the poetry=a vast
proving ground." Un etage. M returns.
An elaborate trick to hold the floor. This
time we are laughing and holding our sides.
The moon in a furor. "Racing with
The Moon"= a tracing, a blank space.
Young and old, a wild spelling and
a cold. "Mean it" inhabits. The
text glows with aplomb (valorization
princiiple becomes "words make their own
things.") Everybody played a hand and
beat me so evidently this put me out of
the game- different kind of Bridge, but
this game could form a
bridge to who is being addressed there-
racing with the moon Alfred Ryder.

Looking at the images of the saloon
I am reminded of seeing a movie
tonight- "The Cincinnati Kid" with Steve
McQueen.When I was in the Resistance
group I burnt my draft card in a Selective
Service office, with pictures snapping-1967.
Now back here 1987- McQueen on T.V.-
he gave the ones who burned their cards his
credit card number to use- you could see the
follow-through in his eyes-reminds me of Paul
Newman, in a way, those eyes-
So I saw the card game last night- this was
going forward one day- I got a few of
the details wrong- but the pattern is to be
seen in many places-

9/8/86 Work

Everybody wants and to some extent
must have a night worlld and a
day world. the Freudian equivalent
of this is "conscious and unconscious"
another dichotomy is "love and work,"
"lieben und arbeiten." But in
contemporary reality- at least the
one I know- this seems to sort
itself out more into night world and
day world. The rising of the Right
conceived as a rising of the light in the
Fundamentalist Christian sense attempts
to submerge the "dark side" which in
their most barbaric id-consciousness
is simply Black people- and in the
Nazi sense their cohorts Jews and Catholics.
The Black person is seen as a cipher for unrestrained energy
(unleashed work).

9/12/86 A Poem- The Illusion of Level

Something precedes it
and how it breaks my heart
that what I don't have
doesn't have me.
I'm applying for a job in eternity.
The hours are terrible but the duties are light
and only the furniture and love
leans on your molecules.
Oh, the embitterment
Oh, the tears cried for a birthday
and the endless waiting.
But it is mostly a trick
due to the kind of siezures
that accompany the holidays.
A portrait of salamanders on wood and glass.
Forgive me kind teacher,
For my miserable Spanish,
my references to globules
both stout and slim.
You put them there anyway
Just to confuse me
(thought's honesty so abrasive)
I ought to just leave, and I do, and I will.
Just one moment!


Finally there's someone to give to
And there so much to give, I'm scared.
A simple decision...oh, that *word!*
I'm tired of it and also of the punctuation,
the pronunciation, light for light and dark for dark.
I'm exhausted, black against white, horrible screams,
white against yellow, brown against brown.
Who determines these things? Don't they listen?
A poet is a voice from the gutter,
a blubbering, terrified, lonely child.
How I gape.
How I stare and let my eyes grow large,
How impatient she is, in her crying,
How patient and irritable mother is,
Never tired of talking and listening.

The men accuse me, whispering and laughing.
Two pants legs, what a riot.
Voices and more voices, *Stimmen und drang.*

Noise isn't what's destroying these maniacs
it's sobbing.


They put me in jail and expect me to talk.
Whose kidding who?
Who is the therapist and who the artist?
This one you can never shut up
And the other one won't start talking.
Dialogue is impossible, better to use
A wet nurse and a television set.


If they use the word "transference" one more time
I'm going to start screaming.


"Resistance" what a laugh.
It's like trying to make a
non-site out of bronze.
They are chocolats instead,
They peel them from pages of Freud
and nibble. No one even steps in the hallway.
and walks around in here like
a neglected "borderline."
Isn't anybody else sick of words?


Bite the hand that feeds you.


They're going after art with an ax.
Don't ask questions in here.
Shut up and please yourself.

Friday, June 27

There's Noplace Like Home Dep't

Toni: "How come I'm watching *Antigone* and you're listening to Jism?"
Nada, narcissism used to come up regularly as a discussion topic on the poetics list. I remember reportiing then that I feel that there are two types of narcissism more or less along the lines of two types of cholesterol. There is "good" narcissism, that actually contributes to one's self esteem and ultimately one's abilities to solidly assess and utilize the strengths and weaknesses of oneself and others, and "bad" narcissism. like bad cholesterol, which tends to mostly damage self-esteem because it is not anchored within constructive self and social relationships. No activity or writing or form, even self-portraits, are necessarily more or less narcissistic than others. The same writing might contribute to one person's bad narcissism and to someone else's good narcissism. Everyone needs to obtain positive self-esteem. As they say, "the love you take is equal to the love you make."
I made a Crush List! Well, not exactly a Crush List, but Chris Murray put me on some kind of big important list! Heaven, I'm In Heaven
The Coolest Links Bar Yet
Joseph Duemer, -Reading and Writing- is now at Reading and Writing

Why must this be centered around some
great pain? It all ends with an
explosion, a tearing...Nurnberg...
the walled city...the bombed out buildings...
memories read, exploded and reconstructed...
composition ends in decomposition...airy

"It is almost as if two people were writing it."

"Only two?"

"It doesn't make sense, doesn't cohere,
doesn't go anywhere."

The very qualities we like may not be
acceptable to us. This is frightening and feels
like a diminution of power. Under these
conditions, power seems to reside in renouncing
temptation. This is not the first time (poetic
exagerration- in turn, this depends on
the purpose of possibilities and subtexts) we have
had to pause at the juncture when something
interesting was about to happen...we were
about to go on...in a camp where many
voices can be heard...this isn't Nurnberg,
Germany, this is the Presideo, San Francisco...
some of the people may actually remember
you from school...What about Skipper
Amory- does anybody remember him...
he was fun and then he was mean...after
he tripped me in the schoolyard and I didn't
want to be his friend after that...
but now you've gone adrift into the
details of your own life...they'll feel
that conflict anyway...it was in the
apprehension of that Western room
and it was in that man's face before he put
his arm through the bars of the cage...
the details start to get fuzzy...it's
not the sleepiness, it's the smell of this
man's fear, it's in the smell of his room and
the eyes of his mother...in the fearsome
unlikihood of the act...in its breaking of
the boundaries between the real and the unreal...
these cardboard men with their paper cards...
it all goes limp, particularly after the
man falls wounded and the act has been done and
the man is lying limp on the ground, or
maybe screaming. I can't completely see it
yet...this man was terrified and the pain
came crashing through on every level, his
strange wanting it somehow, the feel of the power
the way the man shooting the gun must have
felt - his power...all of this in the darkest
dark , it must be, a dim
day at the zoo, cloudy and a lantern held
above the table for light...and, will these
shadows be all it takes to put meaning there?...
Much more...


The nameless horror

You can go in as deeply as you like
in zooming for the detail, even the red hearts
on the card...you can see the leg of
the table, feel the shoulder of the man
holding the cards...everything stops at once...
hard to believe the gun racks because it
wouldn't be that way now...remember, before
they move, you only need a few details...
Say, the reason for the card game and the
name of one of the players...you can smell
by the air where this is, I mean whether
the way out in the woods or someplace
drier than that...then again, stepping
outside, you can see this is the woods...
you can feel the stakes are high, for these
people...you can already begin to guess
the tension in this for them...now,
how do you distinguish the details from
the results?...you can see something is
about to happen and you can feel it...
you've already had ample time to decide
what you think will be the outcome...this
stillness cannot be borne forever, though in
some sense these men were meant to sit there,
and the women in this room, listening
but afraid to listen...you start to feel
someone in there wants to cry out...but still,
this is only an investigation into a few
details... and to imagine it in the first
place something had to hold your affection...

And then the newspaper account of a man
who stuck his arm into a lion's cage to prove that
God does or does not exist...if God has
a power, he announced to his mother, he will
not let the lion hurt me- and then, he lost an
arm...to be transported to a mental hospital

"Are you going to let these thoughts
push you around like this?"

You were in a room and something was about to
happen...what does it have to do with a
lion? Does a lion burst into a room?
It feels like something is going to be mangled,
something is going to break apart...but,
in this man's cage, his internal world demanded
absolute proof of God's *power* to believe in
him...possibly because his own powers appeared to
be drastically failing him...and this mangling
leapt into the story and those men in a
room anyway, a natural overlap of a
day's experience...and the days keep
switching hands...no question that something
meant to jump out and it turned out to be a
lion's paw, not a card...still, one of these
men was about to say something...look,
he's knocking the table over with one hand while
the other is springing back...there are screams and
a door bursts open...a gun explodes...
a man appears almost to be hurled into the
air and thrown back...the noise is deafening...
yet this scream is really the same scream
as the man who was mangled by the lion...

Thursday, June 26

Latest Crush List winners and losers: Stephanie Young chooses tex files...Chris Murray

From a recent number four position on the Ironstone Whirlygig Crush List, now I've completely vanished. Damn!

Well, at least we made Bill Marsh's very first *field report!* This helps. I think.

Amanda Cook, I'm crushed!

Jim Behrle's new blog

Try to catch the monkey!
poetic grimoire and notions visits 1984.
Jordan Davis, ever vigilant and generous, noticed and pointed out a mix-up on -fait accompli- this morning. Blogger, in the process of renovating my posting page (all current blogs are in process of receiving a new posting page) mixed in some archives with my current posts. In doing so, Blogger temporarily created its own version of time travel! However, when I saw this in the middle of the night I went into a state of panic, thinking my site was permanently jumbled. Of course this would have to happen, accoring to the inexorable rule that whatever could go wrong will go wrong, as soon as I posted a proud message to the poetics list about my recent site statistics. Toni woke up and helped me quite a bit, and this morning adorable Laura, my site administrator, applied some magic and sent me some reassuring emails. However, when it occurred to me to try posting a new message, -fait accompli- whisked itself back into shape! Thanks to Toni, Laura, Jordan for their concern and help and to my readers for their patience and interest!
“If you don’t believe in god, don’t quote
him,” Valery once said when he was
about ready to give up poetry. The
purposefull suspension of disbelief.

Jack Spicer

“Distance, Einstein said, goes around
in circles.”

Jack Spicer



If I wanted to open a door or look
out a window-no. If I wanted to
open a door and walk into a world I
would like to live in for awhile- it is
this feeling more than any other I have sought
out by reading and writing. Invariably, I
want to choose the first door at hand that
intrigues me because, now that I have
discovered the opportunity I am well aware that
there is no time to waste. As often, no, more
often, much more often than not there is
nothing behind the door, and once I have
tried to open it and see that the door
won’t budge, very soon after I realize that
there wasn’t any door there at all. But
sometimes- the best times- I can walk
right through, look around, even settle
in for awhile. And, despite any wishes to
the contrary, after awhile, the room,
the door, it all disappears. But then
sometimes, there will be another one, maybe
this time a window, a place, a time
machine. Machines…I imaged a
language machine (not unlike Kafka’s that
wrote horrible messages on his character’s back),
a machine that would generate words from
each other. Often, in my early experience,
I would simply associate to the last letter of a
word, then make that word my next word.
These strange poems were capable of reminding
me of the thoughts and feelings I was thinking
about when I was writing them, although
none of the words seemed at all connected
to these thoughts.The poems would be
built out of a strange conjunction of words
that spelled a rhythm but not a specific
experience. The experience of reading those
poems became more and more specific,
more palpable over time.Some had colors,
others shifted around and in patterns of
light and dark. Or even castles in
mist or even lines like
“ideas so that the can will very”
which where probably borrowed in part
from early readings of ee cummings. What
I was looking for was a world to inhabit,
a world for the eye and the ear and for
thought and imagination. Most of all, this
world had to have sounds and sights
and what other appurtanances of reality
which I was attracted to for the purpose
of constructing my imaginary universe. The
problem only began when I wanted
others to view these adventures as something
called poetry. For a long time- at least
with other types of experiments nobody
would go that far.

-“We’re not complaining, Piombino,” said
some strange voice, “You did the right thing.”-

So, I went about my
business writing some poems that I felt
could directly demonstrate my competence in
some “traditional” form- or some recent

“What are you talking about,” I want to
say to some imaginary figure, “all you
think about is poetry.”

Something recognizable- these were published-
a couple of them. Soon, however, my old wish
to open a magic door asserted itself and
I began my journey. What I’ve learned is
that time is a merry-go-round in which
you will always get another chance to reach
for the ring and not fall off your horse-until
the end of the whole ride, not just a
few turns around (called years). Just the
right combination of waiting and reaching. There
is more than one combination, but there are
right and wrong combinations.

Doors, merry-go-rounds, waiting, combinations,
here it is again, as expected, trinkets to
play with in the gaze of some light, so
I can watch them sparkle. Memories…
prices to pay, compensations…there are
series of events, view them microscopically
or at a distance, but remember you can
change it. Not a question of which one
is better, but the changes help understanding…
You can’t just say anything…then
again you can…you can remember a
card game or one can come hazily into
view-you remember a time when you
would imagine needing thousands of details
to see this…actually, being there is more
like being aware of one or two details very
clearly or a few at a time in a sequence…
You can go in as deeply as you like
in zooming for the detail, even the red hearts
on the card…you can see the leg of
the table, feel the shoulder of the man
holding the cards…everything stops at once.

Wednesday, June 25


There is nothing I hate more than
the odor of an organizer.

Now imagine- for what seemslike an
impossibly long time, I will not write
poetry. X is right- but *fuck
him.* What a crank.

I am bound and determined not to let
such "organizer-cranksters" rule my

But really, what holds me back?
It is tremendous anxieties surrounding
my success- and potential for much
more success. Imagine how long and how
much I've held myself back.

Such bottom-line questions as- if you're
so smart-why aren't you rich?
I've become much more interested in developing
controls than I am in expressing myself.
I spent most of my life looking for ways
to express myself and now the whole
subject is coming up makes me
wonder about myself.

On the other hand- there is no sweeter
right that I cherish above anything-
is this right to express myself without
official involvement being necessary. Obviously
by my mmense hesitations to write
anything at all and my even growing
offhand way of dealing with it- I try by
every means not to take myself too
seriously- on the other hand- that
it embarasses me to write *that* is still
incredible-given my awareness and concern
about the privacy of this act.
(A series of images followed this...)

Parallel response is the normally
expectable pattern observable in
human beings. Even when people do
not respond "in kind" most actions
elicit parallel responses.
Psychoanalysts- and artists-
struggle against this conventional
pattern of response. How does willing suspension
of disbelief fit into this?

Reality becomes more and more
estranged from actuality as reponses
to actuality fail to provide authentic
connective methodologies.
The new perspective
must provide these
connective methodologies both
from the perpective of
communications beween people and also
as a language for interpreting
and expressing original viewpoints.
The yogi who seeks to magically deny his need for food, who seems to live on air in fact has taken control of his or her attention- a hightly sophisticated act of concentration and discipline.

To deny attention to one’s own hunger is also the subject of Kafka’s “The Hunger Artist,” amply illustrating how an indiscriminate appplication of attentional focus can lead to extreme forms of isolation and self-destruction.

Boehm’s understanding of Pribram’s holographic theory of informational processes includes the notion that “Memories from many different times may merge together, and that memories may be connected by association and by logical thought to give a certain further order to the whole pattern. In addition, if sensory data is also being attended to at the same time, the whole of this response from memory will, in general, fuse with the nervous excitation coming in from the senses to give rise to an overall experience in which memory,logic, and sensory activity combine into a single unanalyzable whole.” (p. 198, “Wholeness and the Implicate Order.”

Tuesday, June 24

(12/15 Cont'd)

(Besides, it's the word "God" that
gives us trouble, not the actual
manifestations which we can and do
call other things. Now it's

The triangular- structure-
the strongest structure
)Oediipal structure (strong)
Observational platform. 4th dimension is
the 4th observational participant
tracking as opposed to mapping

Invariant- invariant relationship
(in Freud invariant sexual relationshi, work completed
by the object-relations school- Freud searching
out the internal microstructure of the theory-
micro-applications worked out by "succeeding"

In Einstein- the invariant is the relationship
between light, mass and energy.

Propose a thought experiment: light
needed for all visual measurements.

Space measurement: done by translating
tactile measurement into acoustic and
visual images- which are then graphed and
numerical values are assigned-


An aura of darkness and a person
trying to meaasure the space by means of
tactile measurement. Another person in the
room trying to measure it by tactile
means They touch each other. this
experience diverts their attention and the
existent space is changed by
the area needed for them to exist in it.


Thought experiment: First imagine the
events of a day, an hour an afternoon, then a few days, a few
weeks; then months, years, sequences of 3-5 years,
a decade, half a century, a century, 500 years. 1000,
10,000, 50,000, 100,000, 250,000, half a million,
one million, two million years, 500 million,
a billion, ten billion years, as soon as this is done,
imagine that all time is simultaneous,
this complete span of time,
equivalent to the thoughts
connected to the passage of one thought.
The universe is simply the mind, remembering
that it is still there.

Einstein- the speed of light
poetics- the speed of *dark*

What does it mean to speak of
light's "speed"-

The "sp" level of linguistic development
surely precedes the "sy" development and apparently
the concepts get newer as you reverse from
sw backwards to sa, then to sy,-

*The synchroncity of dark*

The speed of light (Einstein) to the'
synchrony of dark (Freud)

Einstein who believed in God, investigated
light and what is seen by the minds eye- in silence-
Freud, who confronted Fate
searched in the dark regions
for what the voices told him there-

(What does it mean that Einstein's knowledge
was pillaged for bombs, Freud was left
alone with a few wild-eyed followers?)

Both Freud and Einstein knew that to further
the practical use of the thought process it was
necessary to move away from
a preoccupation with metaphysics. Freud
chose psychology (after briefly consisdering neurology
and other branches of medicine.( Einstein chose cosmological
physics but later moved towards the philosophy
of science, not in direct terms , but struggled
with the wider implications of his theory ( the
macrocosm in relation to the microcosm)
But early one in their
theoretical development both yielded
results in the morphological implication
in all the uses of language: Freud in
dreams, wiritng and speech, in the memory function
and the relationship of language to gesture (this,
of course, has always been in the
domain of drama, until this point in history).


(Why all these endless preliminaries.
This endless "testing and experimentation?"
This constant caution, endless doubts,
and the rules and strategies we set for
ourselves to containt them.)* Out of context*
The following passage was part of an essay titled "Currents
of Attention in the Poetic Process" which I originally
published in "Temblor" (#5, 1987). The passage was not included in any
published version.This essay was also included in my
collection pubished by Roof Books in 1993 titled
"The Boundary of Blur"


The rejection of the correspondance of surrealism
by Einstein and Freud marks the beginning of a
rift between theory and practice which may be
partly responsible for some of the more aggressive
results of both theories, particularly Einstein's.
I am thinking of Hitler's crime against
the Jews and the explosion of the Atomic bomb.

The failure of Einstein and Freud to acknowledge
the developments in culture which were
*analogous* to their contributions, which
have their source in methodologies
in science and art which preceded both of them
led to an over-investment in *action* as a
result of the overly quick application of
political viewpoints. While Einstein briefly
acknowledged the "free play" of ideas and
concepts, Freud extended this concept as far
as he could. Both were too bound up in their
own religious viewpoints to acknowledge
the cultural implication in the very aura
that they both made best use of, in
language. Of the two, Einstein was by far
the more cautious, and, as a result of
this failure, their followers fell into
a mass of contradictions whcih have yet to
be worked out theoretically- their
cultural anticedents and implications.

While in many ways I still feel this is a vague, rash and
essentially unsupportable statement, at this time I
am now more sympathetic with the spirit of what I was trying
to get at here. I still can't articulate it precisely, but I feel some
urgency in the necessity to try. At the time I had taken
the history of atomic physics during the era of Heisenberg and
Bohr as a series of connected discoveriies in recent science that I knew
I could probably only grasp
in an elementary way. It was my own sincere desire to try
to do so that interested me and still does. I wanted to be able to intuit
the dissonances between hard science and what I was
trying to do in my work in poetry, poetics and psychoanalysis. I was looking
for dialogue with these foundational thinkers and their universally
successful approaches, but I also wanted
to understand the rift between contemporary poetry and such
areas and in some surely very improvised manner, build bridges and
find connections between areas that refuse to communicate and share their
knowledge.. Probably
a cardboard bridge in a world of imaginary maps- maybe with
a rope bridge a few risk takers or very foolish people might also
try to attempt the journey and try to map it.
I was looking at the way the ideas that these
men inspired in others were applied led to ever
greater rifts between forms of creativity. I grasped that
the creative visions which inspired the ideas of these ingenious inventors
were shrewdly diverted towards ever more rigid,
insular, profession-building coneptual strategies.
Profession building has at its heart a desire to promote competition
and envy. The essential destruction of creativity by
creativity is at the heart of profession building.
Profession bulding destroys idea buiilding and
creativity. It relies on exclusion, hierarchy and
elitism to do this. Such elitism is promoted in
professional publications or publications professional
use to grasp the contemporary zeitgest and its passwords.
Without usable bridges to bring them together to work
on behalf of their own ideas and ideals
creative workers lay themselves
open more and more to political explotation.The over-zealous
use of "criticism," attack and turf building builds fences
and divides neighbors-who may have substantial things in common that
might threaten the control of the "authorities."
Hopefully blogging can be one source of mapping conceivable paths out
of this imbroglio, this labyrinthine and not so accidental trap of communication gaps
and confused and divisive passageways that threaten
everyone's creativity; some way out of the one way street of authoritarianism,
the universal creative
trap that ulitmately leads to facililtating leaders in their
manipulative empoyment and uses of
war, death and destruction..

(It does not go without saying, of course.
that without some acceptance of
profession building one has little hope
of obtaiing a continuous income.
Ah, here we come upon that infamous
relationship between economics and
politics one is never in a hurry to
think about too much or discuss. Aye, and there
the rub, one might say.

debate on
in science-
Einstein- concepts
are free creations
of the human mind-
Is it that
Heisenberg bends
(the language)
the structure of
It is ultimately
a mystical belief
in language- a
more realistic
It is as if first he
had to go somewhere
and, casting about
for a transcendent
root-why not
This belief in the
intrinsic connection
of language and

Yet to
follow the
labyrinths olf
language provides
if not a causal
chain- then a
series of markers

(Max) Geller spoke about
enjoying writing-
might experience
this as dangerous-


Writing about the
writing dilemma


Objects which show
something which has
happened. It is called
evidence.The feeling
which these objects
provoke is
an example of the
overlap of temporal

This thought has
to do with expectation
of locale.

Association- is this
the process which
follows movement
in the mental sphere-
the sensor of inner
movement- the way
the eye can move
sensitively to follow
small signs in movement?

8/7 High tides and
low tides of
(dream the high
thought the low?)
No, not exactly

Monday, June 23


Absolutes- (as
in Hegel)
have NO temporal
conditions implicit
in their (assessments)
(evaluations) of

Private evaluations
versus public
arriving at the
truth- personality
is power in the
private sector
The mentioning
of individuals
in the text
what does it
Fate and

This is the
aura! Takes
me back to the
beginning of the

As we approach the
21st Century
What is the
condition of the
relationship between
the arts and
the turn of the
last century-

A cultural
to truly evaluate
it is necessary
to provide a
perspective. Any
singular perspective
cannot allow
the free play of
imagination because
of the dangers of
intellectual tyranny.
The condition of the narrative is
deeply effected by the
universally experienced
meaning and weight
and balance of scientific


is very evident
to the overwhemed



Continuous writing
as continuous
oossiblity of
filing categorization
of ideas

the Perfect writer


Microgenetic article
ends with the idea
that history is
revived in every
perception. This
is contradicted in the
idea that past
duration is not an
accumulation of
narratives. In this
view the past is the
air that we breathe.

All perceptions are
current, all thoughts
are grounded in the
past.The relationship
between history and
identity is changing.


Freud names doubt
frequently as the
surface avoidance of deep disturbance
The sub interval-
doubt and ambiguity
reside in the interstices
(doubt in
neurosis and science)


Micro instants of
(what *fraction* of
experience is
current in the
current Now?


Narrative and Fantasy

Sunday, June 22

from abolone..Li Bloom

"Well yes she is a blogger ...
her name is xyz ... I think I'll
play a song for her, & sometimes
sing off key"

ahhh summer camp, stay forever
Li // 8:15 AM

Good one, -Abolone-.

Memories of summer camp:

Happiness is being on my own, away from my parents.

My large package of Peanut M+ M's
immediately stolen and completely
devoured by my gangly, pimply, nerdy,
boring tent mate. It was a revelation that
people my age could do this. A little mad,
but more amazed than
anything else.

Swimming every day. Being outside all the time.

Merit badges (making knots; memorizing Morse code).

Bringing my pet toad home with me and finding him squished in
my pocket when I got home.
tex files...Chris Murray is featuring, in reverse order, a Jim Behrle poet action/cartoon figure Crush List! Coming soon: Crush List Crush Lists!
The future considered
as dispersed

As we focus on a
detail in the present
with more and
more interpretive
intensity we move
into an ambiguous
termporal zone

The future is a
puzzle, an enigma
which we approach
through a number of
means. One of these
means is to
interpret small
experiments that
recreate some of the
conditions of the
"passage of time."
Our whole grasp
of experience is

(Bob's example of
Southwest Indian

The cycle of the
return to art-
reference Shape of
The new languages
that the scientist
must rely on to
"measure" probabilities
that cannot be
spoken about in
other than mathematical
languages (Cage quote
of Duchamp)

In a long cycle
beginning with Descartes
science is gradually
realizing that its
dependence on
technology more and
more glaringly
demands new
configurations of
computer techonology
computer "languages"
(Same problems in
satisying needs for
ordinary langugage)

The "whimsical"
the theatrical
(Mallarme's dramas)

Style and method
(medium is the message)

The prdictive in
science and the
predictive in art-
From a present
that defined
time in absolute
"event marks the
Event Horizon)

Microscopic focus
of intervals-
(correction of
"red shift"?)
In psychological
terms- a certain
step has almost the
same meaning at
any time-
witholding that
step transfroms-in
a microscopic way-
the scale of all the
"later" in intervals-
the measure the
zones of temporal
experience with
more contemporaneous
precision it
is necessary to
take alternative
projections from the
side of altered
successions. Thus
the usual zone
we usually call
the future is
which contains
a word with a
tense associated
with "the past."
Modern American
poetry from Eliot
to Mac Low and Andrews moves
in a direction of
dense to light,
from heavy configurations
to ever lighter
more random and
irregular variations.
Just as Mallarme
spread the words
out on the page
allowing more space
betweeen them,
contemporary poetry
measures its
intnervals in the
pauses between
and within words.
The effort to
connect the dots
allows for transformation
at a highly
rapid acceleration.
'The universe of
this experience,
time itself is
experienced as an
overlap between
tenses.As we
familiarize our-
selves with these
configurations, we
move in a temporal
zone which puts
into focus

Another angle on
this is needed
where the
physics on the
interval is
related to
free association-
the usc-pcs
back to Freud's
point in the
Mystic Writing Pad-
the -fait accompli- ((((((BLOGLINK)))))(((((CRUSH)))))(((((LIST)))))) for Sunday, June 22

These Blogs are ((((((((((HOT))))))))))

Whiskey River

Solipsistic Gazette

Arm | Sasser...Carl Annarummo

Dead Letter Game...Bill Marsh

Yoo Doo Right...Mike County

The Nightjar: A Logbook...Jean Gier

Zazie's Zone

Heaven...Mairead Byrne

Five Fingers Strong...Alli Warren


(((((ENCORE))))) These Blogs are (((((HOT)))))

A Partial List of Recent -fait accompli- Bloglink Crushlist Favorites. We read these blogs every day!

Never Neutral...Ernesto Priego

Chimera Song Mosaic...Deborah Wardlaw Pattillo

Sorter...Patrick F.Durgin...

abolone..Li Bloom

Process Documents...Ryan Fitzpatrick

Love's Last Gasps...Eileen Tabios' Poem Journal

Topher Tune's Times...Christy Church

Word Placement...Clayton A. Couch

Ironstone Whirlygig...Amanda Cook

xtina.org....Christina Strong

Nightjar 2...Jean Gier

Noahglass...Noah E.Glass

In A Dark Time...Loren Webster

Wood s Lot...Mark Woods

Hatstuck and Snarl...Stephen Kirbach

poetic grimoire and notions

The Jetty...Cassie Lewis..

tex files...Chris Murray

No Starting Point...Emma Barnes

We Write To Taste Life Twice...Crystal King

For the complete list of all of -fait accompli's- bloglink favorites go to the links list on your left. More(((((HOT)))))(((((BLOGS)))))) coming soon!


These blogsare new to us-no crush yet!- and we are adding them to our (((((BLOGWATCH)))))(((((SPOTLIGHT))))) list.
A blog doesn't need a clever name
What caught our eye about this one was the complete list of current English language blogs in Iran.

This one just caught our eye. Will a crush develop? Wait and see..
Auntie Sarah

Another one for the blogwatch:
Caveat Lector...Let the reader beware

On the Blogwatch Radar Screen now:
this Public Address 3.0

Today's (((((HOT)))))((((((BLOGLINK)))))((((((CRUSH)))))(((((LIST)))))) will be divided into three parts. First; BLOG SPOTLIGHT, which will feature an exciting new list of blogs in English from Iran. The second part will be (((((ENCORE))))), our list of (((((RECENT CRUSH LIST))))) favorites from previous crush lists. And finally, our BLOGLINK CRUSH HOTLIST FOR SUNDAY JUNE 22