Some Recent Links
Green Integer Blog-Contradicta, with collages by Toni Simon
Venepoetics (Guillermo Parra)-Contradicta translated into Spanish
Gregory Laynor- poem beginning with a line from Nick Piombino
Gregory Laynor-poem ending with a line from Nick PIombinol
Distribution Automatique
Friday, November 14
Stan Apps on Sarcasm
"There are few legitimate responses to a world in which idealistic narratives are repeatedly used to devastate communities, where devastation is routinely applauded as long as it is for the sake of ideals. With ideals like these we don’t need enemies..."
Read more:
elective annoyance
"There are few legitimate responses to a world in which idealistic narratives are repeatedly used to devastate communities, where devastation is routinely applauded as long as it is for the sake of ideals. With ideals like these we don’t need enemies..."
Read more:
elective annoyance
Wednesday, November 12
Notes from Underground
Life as it is lived today underground at times feels impersonal to the point of sterility. This atmosphere results not only from the dire warnings loudly and constantly announced over the loudspeakers in every car, contrasted with wistful advertisements recommending schools for dental assistants or college degrees, but also the atmosphere of trauma within which we have regularly lived has dampened nearly any sort of spirit of connectedness that might be mustered. No one can remain light for very long under these conditions, while the efforts of the nightly tv comics elicit more of a sense of generosity and determination than shared hilarity. The homeless on the train asking for change this week seemed a notch more desperate than usual. Maybe it's just the full moon. Obama's promises of hope notwithstanding, now hovering on the edges of the future, even spontaneous pleasantness and brief polite interchanges, while intensely welcome, still feel strangely alien, or even surreal, after a few moments. Next to me, near my seat, two very small children cling to a vertical metal supporting bar and act themselves, that is, very silly. The parents smile warmly towards them and chat about quitting caffeine. The wackier the children behave, the more serious the passengers become, certainly not annoyed, since the kids were not in the least bit being disturbing. The children were happy, that was all. These moments reveal our social conditions far more than any news broadcast will ever be able to encompass. I think about the bank teller that I go to regularly who demanded I rewrite my signature to match my ATM card even to withdraw a small sum of money and the man who asked for five dollars for the seat he has vacated in Barnes and Noble. It was a try at a joke, and my silence made him add; "Only in New York." Crossing the street in Brooklyn after leaving the train station a car cuts me off rudely. As we hurtle towards a holiday unlike few in many decades in New York, it will be awhile until we feel the emotions that we might expect after such a startlingly uplifting election. I think about my visit with my old friend Alan today and how the conversation, once again, turned towards the Weimar era. We talked about novels by Alan Furst, Tana French, Joseph Kanon and Candace Bushnell that point up moral ambiguities in times like these, recent and long ago. On the bus home, I think the subway is a good metaphor for how I see this period. For the moment, most emotions have gone underground, and as we move inexorably down a dark tunnel, over a route we know all too well, while images of light at the end of that tunnel have yet to appear, we think about them as they have been suggested, yet we seem to endlessly slow before arriving anywhere, holding mainly to an attitude set to endure what is likely to remain a bumpy ride for quite some time.
Life as it is lived today underground at times feels impersonal to the point of sterility. This atmosphere results not only from the dire warnings loudly and constantly announced over the loudspeakers in every car, contrasted with wistful advertisements recommending schools for dental assistants or college degrees, but also the atmosphere of trauma within which we have regularly lived has dampened nearly any sort of spirit of connectedness that might be mustered. No one can remain light for very long under these conditions, while the efforts of the nightly tv comics elicit more of a sense of generosity and determination than shared hilarity. The homeless on the train asking for change this week seemed a notch more desperate than usual. Maybe it's just the full moon. Obama's promises of hope notwithstanding, now hovering on the edges of the future, even spontaneous pleasantness and brief polite interchanges, while intensely welcome, still feel strangely alien, or even surreal, after a few moments. Next to me, near my seat, two very small children cling to a vertical metal supporting bar and act themselves, that is, very silly. The parents smile warmly towards them and chat about quitting caffeine. The wackier the children behave, the more serious the passengers become, certainly not annoyed, since the kids were not in the least bit being disturbing. The children were happy, that was all. These moments reveal our social conditions far more than any news broadcast will ever be able to encompass. I think about the bank teller that I go to regularly who demanded I rewrite my signature to match my ATM card even to withdraw a small sum of money and the man who asked for five dollars for the seat he has vacated in Barnes and Noble. It was a try at a joke, and my silence made him add; "Only in New York." Crossing the street in Brooklyn after leaving the train station a car cuts me off rudely. As we hurtle towards a holiday unlike few in many decades in New York, it will be awhile until we feel the emotions that we might expect after such a startlingly uplifting election. I think about my visit with my old friend Alan today and how the conversation, once again, turned towards the Weimar era. We talked about novels by Alan Furst, Tana French, Joseph Kanon and Candace Bushnell that point up moral ambiguities in times like these, recent and long ago. On the bus home, I think the subway is a good metaphor for how I see this period. For the moment, most emotions have gone underground, and as we move inexorably down a dark tunnel, over a route we know all too well, while images of light at the end of that tunnel have yet to appear, we think about them as they have been suggested, yet we seem to endlessly slow before arriving anywhere, holding mainly to an attitude set to endure what is likely to remain a bumpy ride for quite some time.
Saturday, November 8
Green Integer Review- Contradicta collaboration with Toni Simon
Green Integer Review
**************
Nada Gordon Decorates The World
Ululations
Green Integer Review
**************
Nada Gordon Decorates The World
Ululations
Monday, November 3
Phillip K. Dick Predicted a Black President
In 1966, Phillip K. Dick published The Crack in Space which had, as one of its characters, a black Presidential candidate, Jim Briskin.
From Phillip K. Dick's 1966 novel The Crack in Space:
"But it was inevitable. Sooner or later, there would be a Negro president....'I don't agree with you,' Briskin said, 'I think there'll always be a hate organization like CLEAN, and there'll always be people to support it.' After all, CLEAN had a point. they did not want to see a Negro president, and wasn't it their right to feel like that? Some people did, some people didn't; that was perfectly natural. And, he thought, why should we pretend race is not the issue? It is, really. I am a Negro. Verne Engel is factually correct. The real question was: how large a percentage of the electorate suported CLEAN's views? Certainly, CLEAN did not hurt his feelings; he could not be wounded; he had experienced too much already in his years as a newsclown. In my years, he thought to himself acidly, as an American Negro.
A small boy, white, appeared at the booth, with a pen and a tablet of paper. 'Mr Briskin, can I get your autograph?'"
******
Otoliths issue 11
In 1966, Phillip K. Dick published The Crack in Space which had, as one of its characters, a black Presidential candidate, Jim Briskin.
From Phillip K. Dick's 1966 novel The Crack in Space:
"But it was inevitable. Sooner or later, there would be a Negro president....'I don't agree with you,' Briskin said, 'I think there'll always be a hate organization like CLEAN, and there'll always be people to support it.' After all, CLEAN had a point. they did not want to see a Negro president, and wasn't it their right to feel like that? Some people did, some people didn't; that was perfectly natural. And, he thought, why should we pretend race is not the issue? It is, really. I am a Negro. Verne Engel is factually correct. The real question was: how large a percentage of the electorate suported CLEAN's views? Certainly, CLEAN did not hurt his feelings; he could not be wounded; he had experienced too much already in his years as a newsclown. In my years, he thought to himself acidly, as an American Negro.
A small boy, white, appeared at the booth, with a pen and a tablet of paper. 'Mr Briskin, can I get your autograph?'"
******
Otoliths issue 11
Saturday, November 1
"Debt springs eternal in the human bank"
"Interior Demolition" (mp3 on Penn Sound)
[From Light Street, Zasterle Press, 1996]
Interior Demolition
"Interior Demolition" (mp3 on Penn Sound)
[From Light Street, Zasterle Press, 1996]
Interior Demolition
Tuesday, October 28
Saturday, October 25
Sunday, October 19
Contradicta
There are parts of ourselves that allow no effect, either from ourselves on the world, or the world on us. These parts are the hinges on which we allow the portals between ourselves and life to swing, open or closed, as need be.
******************
Nothing is the place in which everything breathes or stands, moves or falls.
There are parts of ourselves that allow no effect, either from ourselves on the world, or the world on us. These parts are the hinges on which we allow the portals between ourselves and life to swing, open or closed, as need be.
******************
Nothing is the place in which everything breathes or stands, moves or falls.
Friday, October 17
Anny Ballardini's Fall Folio
"Don’t blame me!... It all started on Alan Sondheim’s WRYTING-L list. Dirk Vekemans has to be blamed. His Autumnal poem made the long list of answers that followed. I therefore had the idea of gathering the poems. Not only, I also forwarded an invitation to the WOM-PO and New Poetry List, and to several chosen Poets. Here is the Harvest in its colorful unfolding. I do hope you will all enjoy it."
fieralingue
*********************
Nico Vassilakis on Mike Burakoff's video of Free Fall
Verse in the eye
When you’re drawn to focus. When you’re moved to veer. The trigger’s pulled before you know the question’s near. So ask what looking gives you and twist the eyes reply. The function of its thinking immediate, yes, immediate. This the staring won’t deny. Your brain answers while swerves align, as-best-it-can-it-should, that it knows a further capsule driven, I say driven, further into focus. That your eyes dart here and there as things of interest do & that coming here and leaving have left a stain on you.
"Don’t blame me!... It all started on Alan Sondheim’s WRYTING-L list. Dirk Vekemans has to be blamed. His Autumnal poem made the long list of answers that followed. I therefore had the idea of gathering the poems. Not only, I also forwarded an invitation to the WOM-PO and New Poetry List, and to several chosen Poets. Here is the Harvest in its colorful unfolding. I do hope you will all enjoy it."
fieralingue
*********************
Nico Vassilakis on Mike Burakoff's video of Free Fall
Verse in the eye
When you’re drawn to focus. When you’re moved to veer. The trigger’s pulled before you know the question’s near. So ask what looking gives you and twist the eyes reply. The function of its thinking immediate, yes, immediate. This the staring won’t deny. Your brain answers while swerves align, as-best-it-can-it-should, that it knows a further capsule driven, I say driven, further into focus. That your eyes dart here and there as things of interest do & that coming here and leaving have left a stain on you.
Wednesday, October 8
Issue #1 Faux Anthology
I would just call it-The Unbearable Lightness of Issue #1. There is something about that huge sudden ironic parody that calls for instant recognition of the non serious nature of the intervention. This is the "unbearable lightness of blogging" as I have termed it, par excellence. A poetry circus wagon blows in, warm wind and ill wind, spins a few sails, shakes a few tails and blows out: a party with real laughs, a few growls and roars and some intense conversations where you recognize a lot of people, don't know some, you figure "everybody" was there, but of course that's not literally possible. The feeling is, maybe they were out of town or something, or just couldn't make it, but not that they were deliberately excluded. I know I would have felt left out had I not been mentioned. But since I was I do get into that lightness, but it is a blue lightness while still feeling nostalgic for the more private days of the whole long stretched out thing- getting an invitation, figuring what to send, waiting to hear, then getting accepted. But in this party atmosphere it's just all so quickly thrown together, no time, so quickly check how my poem was dressed and acted, ok, did I see some friends, yeah, their poems are ok. So then it's over, and there's the hangover of- what did I do, did I actually write that thing, no way, nobody did, a computer wrote it. After all, it is the era of the machine. So what did I say- I'm not sure how I feel now. Then the party really starts and everyone talks about it for days. No, not like a reading or an opening, more like a bash, or an old fashioned happening where people were only half aware of what was going on. Maybe all the evidence has already been put away and the place has been swept up. Maybe a few people actually kept their party favors and others left and forgot them. But now there's a memory, that Godot thing that gets talked about. People have been saying that we are in a time warp in that in New York now, that we are in a repeat of the Weimar era. Maybe this Godot thing is our cabaret- rude, crude, risque, funny, a little dark, with music by Kurt Weill and a set by Kirchner, Grosz or Hannah Hoch. I had even written in the comment section of Issue 1, "There has been talk of a poetry bailout. Is this it?" It looks like the powers that be are plotting to send the whole batch of us poets and day workers out onto the streets as in *The Threepenny Opera* while "citibank" robs everybody blind. And then we'll listen to the barrel organ sound, in the city while the sun sinks low.
*****************************
On a trade basis, the "Godot team" is making hard copies of the anthology available. You send a chapbook and postage and it's yours. Here's the link:
Sending for Godot
****************************
After writing that line I had to go and reread the poem I was thinking of by Alfred Noyes:
The Barrel Organ (1938
I would just call it-The Unbearable Lightness of Issue #1. There is something about that huge sudden ironic parody that calls for instant recognition of the non serious nature of the intervention. This is the "unbearable lightness of blogging" as I have termed it, par excellence. A poetry circus wagon blows in, warm wind and ill wind, spins a few sails, shakes a few tails and blows out: a party with real laughs, a few growls and roars and some intense conversations where you recognize a lot of people, don't know some, you figure "everybody" was there, but of course that's not literally possible. The feeling is, maybe they were out of town or something, or just couldn't make it, but not that they were deliberately excluded. I know I would have felt left out had I not been mentioned. But since I was I do get into that lightness, but it is a blue lightness while still feeling nostalgic for the more private days of the whole long stretched out thing- getting an invitation, figuring what to send, waiting to hear, then getting accepted. But in this party atmosphere it's just all so quickly thrown together, no time, so quickly check how my poem was dressed and acted, ok, did I see some friends, yeah, their poems are ok. So then it's over, and there's the hangover of- what did I do, did I actually write that thing, no way, nobody did, a computer wrote it. After all, it is the era of the machine. So what did I say- I'm not sure how I feel now. Then the party really starts and everyone talks about it for days. No, not like a reading or an opening, more like a bash, or an old fashioned happening where people were only half aware of what was going on. Maybe all the evidence has already been put away and the place has been swept up. Maybe a few people actually kept their party favors and others left and forgot them. But now there's a memory, that Godot thing that gets talked about. People have been saying that we are in a time warp in that in New York now, that we are in a repeat of the Weimar era. Maybe this Godot thing is our cabaret- rude, crude, risque, funny, a little dark, with music by Kurt Weill and a set by Kirchner, Grosz or Hannah Hoch. I had even written in the comment section of Issue 1, "There has been talk of a poetry bailout. Is this it?" It looks like the powers that be are plotting to send the whole batch of us poets and day workers out onto the streets as in *The Threepenny Opera* while "citibank" robs everybody blind. And then we'll listen to the barrel organ sound, in the city while the sun sinks low.
*****************************
On a trade basis, the "Godot team" is making hard copies of the anthology available. You send a chapbook and postage and it's yours. Here's the link:
Sending for Godot
****************************
After writing that line I had to go and reread the poem I was thinking of by Alfred Noyes:
The Barrel Organ (1938
Monday, October 6
The Art of Prediction
It is fascinating that Nassim Nicholas Taleb the author of The Black Swan, the biggest best selling non-fiction book of 2007, who is extremely skeptical about the value of predictions, could have published this statement last year:
"As if we did not have enough problems, banks are now more vulnerable to the Black Swan and the ludic fallacy than ever before with "scientists" among their staff taking care of exposures. The giant firm J. P. Morgan put the entire world at risk by introducing in the nineties Risk Metrics, a phony method aiming at managing people's risks, causing the generalized use of the ludic fallacy...A related method called "Value at Risk" on the quantitative measurement of risk, has been spreading. Likewise, the government-sponsored institution Fanny Mae, when I look at their risks, seems to be sitting on a barrel of dynamite, vulnerable to the slightest hiccup. But not to worry, their large staff of scientists deemed these events 'unlikely.'"(p.225)
It is fascinating that Nassim Nicholas Taleb the author of The Black Swan, the biggest best selling non-fiction book of 2007, who is extremely skeptical about the value of predictions, could have published this statement last year:
"As if we did not have enough problems, banks are now more vulnerable to the Black Swan and the ludic fallacy than ever before with "scientists" among their staff taking care of exposures. The giant firm J. P. Morgan put the entire world at risk by introducing in the nineties Risk Metrics, a phony method aiming at managing people's risks, causing the generalized use of the ludic fallacy...A related method called "Value at Risk" on the quantitative measurement of risk, has been spreading. Likewise, the government-sponsored institution Fanny Mae, when I look at their risks, seems to be sitting on a barrel of dynamite, vulnerable to the slightest hiccup. But not to worry, their large staff of scientists deemed these events 'unlikely.'"(p.225)
Saturday, October 4
Friday, September 26
Between: The Art of Collaboration, by Douglas Messerli
Green Integer Blog
Some years ago, Douglas Messerli invited a group of poets to send him poems linking his work to theirs, in many instances writing through poems he had written incorporating their work into his. As part of a mammoth ongoing memoir project, each book encompassing one year of his life, Douglas here writes about the year 2000, the year in which he launched this project, that included a poem of my own, based on work of his.
*
Some months ago, Geof Huth courageously blogged about his open heart surgery, a post that included photos of the event. Here Douglas MesserIil writes about his recent prostate surgery, an operation that strangely followed his writing a beautiful piece about his father's death of that disease.
Green Integer Blog
Some years ago, Douglas Messerli invited a group of poets to send him poems linking his work to theirs, in many instances writing through poems he had written incorporating their work into his. As part of a mammoth ongoing memoir project, each book encompassing one year of his life, Douglas here writes about the year 2000, the year in which he launched this project, that included a poem of my own, based on work of his.
*
Some months ago, Geof Huth courageously blogged about his open heart surgery, a post that included photos of the event. Here Douglas MesserIil writes about his recent prostate surgery, an operation that strangely followed his writing a beautiful piece about his father's death of that disease.
Wednesday, September 24
Saturday, September 20
The Loneliness of the Long Distance Blogger: Sharon Mesmer on Poetry and Theory in The Brooklyn Rail
"Poetry has become an overscheduled toddler run ragged by ambitious, bickering parents, its very existence a compromised simulacrum of their disharmonious projections and expectations". In this article, Sharon Mesmer identifies an issue that has also been troubling me for a very long time. The causes have been argued and discussed by poets and others for years. Mesmer focusses on the addiction to "debate" as one of the problems, a topic I have taken up on *fait accompli* countless times. The last time I wrote about this during the presidential debates of 2004 it was becoming very clear to me that the "debate" model was failing to inspire and sputtering to a halt.(Time March's On, 3/2/04) This year Obama and Biden are likely to impress and the other team to depress. But in the poetry world, it's getting tiresome. Don't get me wrong. The 70's poetry debates, following the breath of expressive freedom of the 60's, were invaluable, even, at times, beautiful to contemplate. But after more than 25 years of echoes, the model is wearing thin. If there ever was indeed a "politics of poetic form" that political point has been more than made. It has been paddled around to death and is now choking off the poetry, or at least focus on the poetry. The assumption is that creating controversy creates interest. In the case of contemporary poetry, the reverse is happening. Instead of making the poetry scene vibrant, it is making it soggy. The arguments are not snappy, they are stale. Although Sharon doesn't say this, and may not even be thinking this, to me this debate form in poetry is a masculine, tennis or racket ball oriented adaptation of dealing with issues of concern to poets. Game over. What would I substitute? Responding to the work of specific poets thoroughly, carefully, lovingly, angrily, lightly, whatever. Making observations and arriving at conclusions based on actual poems, not the strategies of your "team" with the endless arguments about the dynamics, the advantages and disadvantages, the importance and unimportance of "types" of poetry. Let's give it a break, guys.
"Poetry has become an overscheduled toddler run ragged by ambitious, bickering parents, its very existence a compromised simulacrum of their disharmonious projections and expectations". In this article, Sharon Mesmer identifies an issue that has also been troubling me for a very long time. The causes have been argued and discussed by poets and others for years. Mesmer focusses on the addiction to "debate" as one of the problems, a topic I have taken up on *fait accompli* countless times. The last time I wrote about this during the presidential debates of 2004 it was becoming very clear to me that the "debate" model was failing to inspire and sputtering to a halt.(Time March's On, 3/2/04) This year Obama and Biden are likely to impress and the other team to depress. But in the poetry world, it's getting tiresome. Don't get me wrong. The 70's poetry debates, following the breath of expressive freedom of the 60's, were invaluable, even, at times, beautiful to contemplate. But after more than 25 years of echoes, the model is wearing thin. If there ever was indeed a "politics of poetic form" that political point has been more than made. It has been paddled around to death and is now choking off the poetry, or at least focus on the poetry. The assumption is that creating controversy creates interest. In the case of contemporary poetry, the reverse is happening. Instead of making the poetry scene vibrant, it is making it soggy. The arguments are not snappy, they are stale. Although Sharon doesn't say this, and may not even be thinking this, to me this debate form in poetry is a masculine, tennis or racket ball oriented adaptation of dealing with issues of concern to poets. Game over. What would I substitute? Responding to the work of specific poets thoroughly, carefully, lovingly, angrily, lightly, whatever. Making observations and arriving at conclusions based on actual poems, not the strategies of your "team" with the endless arguments about the dynamics, the advantages and disadvantages, the importance and unimportance of "types" of poetry. Let's give it a break, guys.
Friday, September 19
Wednesday, September 17
The 2cd Annual Welcome to Boog City Festival Complete Listings
I will be reading on Sunday, September 21st
Unnameable Books
456 Bergen St.
Brooklyn
Free
1:00 p.m.-Julia Cohen
1:15 p.m.-Tisa Bryant
1:30 p.m.-Ana Božičević
1:45 p.m.-Yoko Kikuchi (music)
2:05 p.m.-Corrine Fitzpatrick
2:20 p.m.-Nick Piombino
2:35 p.m.-Stacy Szymaszek
I will be reading on Sunday, September 21st
Unnameable Books
456 Bergen St.
Brooklyn
Free
1:00 p.m.-Julia Cohen
1:15 p.m.-Tisa Bryant
1:30 p.m.-Ana Božičević
1:45 p.m.-Yoko Kikuchi (music)
2:05 p.m.-Corrine Fitzpatrick
2:20 p.m.-Nick Piombino
2:35 p.m.-Stacy Szymaszek
Friday, September 12
Free Fall/A.I.R. Gallery History Show/Nicholas Manning reviews Mark Young's Selected In Jacket/New Books from Otoliths
The video of my collage novel Free Fall-video and music by Mike Burakoff- is now up on Nicholas Manning’s poet's video blog, The Continental Review
Nicholas Manning has also posted a short announcement and appreciative comment on his weblog: The Newer Metaphysicals
Thanks to Nicholas Manning for posting the video and to Mark Young for publishing the book under his Otoliths Press imprint.
***********************
A.I.R. GALLERY: The History Show
Archival materials from 1972 to the present
Curated by Kat Griefen & Dena Muller
at Tracey/Barry Gallery, Bobst LIbrary,
Open Monday - Friday 10am-5pm
70 Washington Sq. South, 3rd Fl.
September 16 - December 12, 2008
Opening & Panel at Tracey/Barry Gallery
Tuesday, Sept. 16, 6pm – 8pm
“How A.I.R. Changed the Art World: Feminist Intervention Over 37 Years”
Panelists: Dotty Attie, Carey Lovelace, Carolee Schneemann, Corinne Robins & Joan Snitzer
**************
Nicholas Manning reviews Mark Young's Pelican Dreaming: Selected Poems in
Jacket
*************
When the original emailout for this September septet of new books from Otoliths reached four pages, I decided it was time to compromise, to send just the basic details out, & post the extended play with full blurbs & jpegs of the front covers to my blog, gamma ways . The direct URLs for the books are given below. The full catalog can be found at The Otoliths Storefront Otoliths .
Mark Young
E-X-C-H-A-N-G-E-V-A-L-U-E-S: The Final XIV Interviews + One
Tom Beckett (curator)
372 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-1-8
$19.95 + p&h
URL: Final XIV Interviews
The Evolution of Mirrors
Martin Edmond
108 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-6-3
$12.50 + p&h
URL: Evolution of Mirrors
When You Bit...
Adam Fieled
72 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-3-2
$12.50 + p&h
URL:When You Bit
Longfellow Memoranda
Geof Huth
148 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9804541-9-2
$13.50 + p&h
URL: Longfellow Memoranda
Novaless
Nicholas Manning
160 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-2-5
$13.50 + p&h
URL: Novaless
Tales From The Hinterland
Caleb Puckett
60 pages
Cover design by Mary Ellen Derwis & Joe Balaz
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-4-9
$10.00 + p&h
URL:Tales from the Hinterland
RED
Marilyn R. Rosenberg
56 pages, full color, 9" wide x 7" high, coil bound
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-5-6
$19.95 + p&h
URL:Red
The video of my collage novel Free Fall-video and music by Mike Burakoff- is now up on Nicholas Manning’s poet's video blog, The Continental Review
Nicholas Manning has also posted a short announcement and appreciative comment on his weblog: The Newer Metaphysicals
Thanks to Nicholas Manning for posting the video and to Mark Young for publishing the book under his Otoliths Press imprint.
***********************
A.I.R. GALLERY: The History Show
Archival materials from 1972 to the present
Curated by Kat Griefen & Dena Muller
at Tracey/Barry Gallery, Bobst LIbrary,
Open Monday - Friday 10am-5pm
70 Washington Sq. South, 3rd Fl.
September 16 - December 12, 2008
Opening & Panel at Tracey/Barry Gallery
Tuesday, Sept. 16, 6pm – 8pm
“How A.I.R. Changed the Art World: Feminist Intervention Over 37 Years”
Panelists: Dotty Attie, Carey Lovelace, Carolee Schneemann, Corinne Robins & Joan Snitzer
**************
Nicholas Manning reviews Mark Young's Pelican Dreaming: Selected Poems in
Jacket
*************
When the original emailout for this September septet of new books from Otoliths reached four pages, I decided it was time to compromise, to send just the basic details out, & post the extended play with full blurbs & jpegs of the front covers to my blog, gamma ways . The direct URLs for the books are given below. The full catalog can be found at The Otoliths Storefront Otoliths .
Mark Young
E-X-C-H-A-N-G-E-V-A-L-U-E-S: The Final XIV Interviews + One
Tom Beckett (curator)
372 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-1-8
$19.95 + p&h
URL: Final XIV Interviews
The Evolution of Mirrors
Martin Edmond
108 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-6-3
$12.50 + p&h
URL: Evolution of Mirrors
When You Bit...
Adam Fieled
72 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-3-2
$12.50 + p&h
URL:When You Bit
Longfellow Memoranda
Geof Huth
148 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9804541-9-2
$13.50 + p&h
URL: Longfellow Memoranda
Novaless
Nicholas Manning
160 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-2-5
$13.50 + p&h
URL: Novaless
Tales From The Hinterland
Caleb Puckett
60 pages
Cover design by Mary Ellen Derwis & Joe Balaz
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-4-9
$10.00 + p&h
URL:Tales from the Hinterland
RED
Marilyn R. Rosenberg
56 pages, full color, 9" wide x 7" high, coil bound
ISBN: 978-0-9805096-5-6
$19.95 + p&h
URL:Red
Wednesday, September 10
Contradicta
Those long accustomed to unqualified success-- or to unquestionable failure--tend to share one quality in common: an air of indifference.
*******
We are nothing more or less than the sum of our enthusiasms.
******************
Mark Young's Pelican Dreaming Selected Poems 1959-2008 (Meritage Press)
$24 at Lulu
These poems, read together in this excellently selected book, speak and sing to and of and with each other. Their humor and humanity, frankness and wealth of example and reference work together to create an appetite of readerly curiosity to want to keep reading and thinking, laughing, and connecting, and with this a desire to get to know the poet more, to come back to particular poems more and more.
Mark Young is the editor of Otoliths and Otoliths Books and lives in Rockhampton, Australia
"Chaos Theory Does Hollywood"
"Have just watched Blade Runner
on DVD, enjoyed it as I
always do even though
a small part of me sits there
running a reality check. It's
the risk you take when
writing about the future:
having it reviewed at a
point that is closer than the
conception. Pan-Am
didn't even make it to 2001
let alone the time this movie
is set. The arse has fallen out
of the yen & though Sony
still owns Columbia not everytone
speaks Japanese & most of the
noodle bars are owned by
immigrants from Vietnam or
Mainland China. Two days ago
I bought an album by Youssou
N'Dour & the next day
Senegal surprised by beating
France in the opening round
of soccer's World Cup. Maybe
that's the way to influence
the universe. Don't just
make the movie, change
something small in the
real world & eventually
the film may be seen
as cinima verite by the time
its time has come. Forgo
those fastfood franchised
tie-ins. Instead give
everyone a butterfly to kill."
Those long accustomed to unqualified success-- or to unquestionable failure--tend to share one quality in common: an air of indifference.
*******
We are nothing more or less than the sum of our enthusiasms.
******************
Mark Young's Pelican Dreaming Selected Poems 1959-2008 (Meritage Press)
$24 at Lulu
These poems, read together in this excellently selected book, speak and sing to and of and with each other. Their humor and humanity, frankness and wealth of example and reference work together to create an appetite of readerly curiosity to want to keep reading and thinking, laughing, and connecting, and with this a desire to get to know the poet more, to come back to particular poems more and more.
Mark Young is the editor of Otoliths and Otoliths Books and lives in Rockhampton, Australia
"Chaos Theory Does Hollywood"
"Have just watched Blade Runner
on DVD, enjoyed it as I
always do even though
a small part of me sits there
running a reality check. It's
the risk you take when
writing about the future:
having it reviewed at a
point that is closer than the
conception. Pan-Am
didn't even make it to 2001
let alone the time this movie
is set. The arse has fallen out
of the yen & though Sony
still owns Columbia not everytone
speaks Japanese & most of the
noodle bars are owned by
immigrants from Vietnam or
Mainland China. Two days ago
I bought an album by Youssou
N'Dour & the next day
Senegal surprised by beating
France in the opening round
of soccer's World Cup. Maybe
that's the way to influence
the universe. Don't just
make the movie, change
something small in the
real world & eventually
the film may be seen
as cinima verite by the time
its time has come. Forgo
those fastfood franchised
tie-ins. Instead give
everyone a butterfly to kill."
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