Dan Raphael

the song     the smog

a luminance crossing the street between my lungs

horizon blotted by trees I could throw to

over the houses and through the cars

8 kids playing football;    no one else is home

in every room in my house is a door to another room

with someone I never met whose door opens

some other neighborhood where the clock has the runs

smells no windows opened here for months

incense   sweat    garlic with 4 feet

when I move the ladder my house ascends

as if the earth building force as a foundation

worms bursting jars     starlings swimming underground

concentric interiors a page too long to turn

when the windows find antoher station

I confuse breathing with accordion

paralyzed water anything could be in the middle of

like reverse engineering a seed

to live inside a tree without killing it

neither saprophyte or heavyweight

every wall at least 5 rituals

so much willpower forgotten makes the best roof

open to the street like a bouncer on commission

address is access    the wrong door at the right time

internal saxophone compass   

unclenching the jonts kickback suspension

been half n hour since any bird

Ionuț Ionescu

***

la mer balance dans le noir
ses mouvements écrasés comme dans un gouffre
elle a perdu sa peau
et ça nous fait croire qu'elle vide nos entrailles dehors
dans ce qu'on apelle libérté
mais ce n'est qu'un autre vague
qui vient d'être mort



***

sales cochons que nous sommes
on a cherché dans le mur un trou
près de nos ailes
qui puisse nous enlever sur place



***

C'est fini
l'oiseau sur la table
mais elle me manque éperdument

Ovidiu Alexuță

Bob Phillips

fearone

http://soundcloud.com/r-37/fearone

Dr. John M. Bennett

the ‘maters

orange ,under the drooping

,leaves ,dirtsprung hands

,or gold ,spheres ,es

caped my eyes ,to

fall in mud ,or the

cornea’s cloudy ,leaves

me standing ,and in my

churning sleep

an icy shoe returns

‘    ’    ’   ‘  ‘   ’   ‘

where the compost’s

crowned with flies

.my uttered wallet’s

nest my sandy keys

my knife crusted

with sticky see

ds  .))under the water’s

mile ,I slept

...las semillas que subían...

- Carlos Pellicer

exlumation

b oil nos tril ,g ,nat

es dri ppy ,off the

f loor ,s hoe f ills ,a

m ask o f og the

han ky rai sed ,a f

lag un foiled ,to

ward the st reaming

c aves ,of rain the

mater ,so’s yr fin

g ered sn akes yr g

rippless toes and linty

shirt ,damp ,ered

while the exhalation’s

in ,bur bling at the mou

th ,rem akes the soaking

air ,or light

Toda la mierda literaria ha

ido quedando atrás.

- Roberto Bolaño

slack

Mark Sargent

ADVANTEGOUS FORCE

It’s called purchase for a reason

just as Waits has it, that is, road

kill has its season, but that’s not

it, I mean mechanical advantage

in raising or moving bodies or

spirits, the little electrical blips

zipping through us, getting those

fuckers racing even faster; means

of exerting force advantageously,

you dig, via come-along or some

thing that torques your power up,

makes less more in the sense of

moving pushing pulling igniting,

yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,

an infernal combustion caused by

expanded pressure exerted through

position advantage, gaining purchase

on the momentary fluttering node

of existence, no, not node but nabob

in the Agnew way, those who natter

negatively towards a woebegone glut

of backtracking zap, zone lizard lashings

of melancholy, braced-up lung of

preserved air, smother-bed shortage

of crimes cobbled-up, picayune.

Holding

superior angle to the mass,

there grunt into it and shift things,

the chemical mistakes add up,

small claim reactions to a fall,

he wasn’t pushed but jumped, fell

from volition, will to be airborne,

to get that edge of air beneath and

descend as in a dream, not really

touching anything, save air, save

atmosphere worthy of spinning of

whirlpooling desire down a drain of

marble and fat, rodent fetuses, slip-

pery skeins of paper-thin shaven flesh

spool out in clouds of confetti,

a old New York hero’s welcome,

open-air cars and the sidewalks ten deep,

paper snow thick, breathless but crisp

newsreel voices bleating about the Big Apple’s

welcome for Gertrude Stein.  Yeah,

a ticker tape parade for Gertrude Stein’s

arrival, if only we could rewrite history.

She leaned against the language,

her purchase was saturation

in the logic of the tongue.

Bogdan Puslenghea

                        Mindchange

 

 

                 halfway between confusion 
                 and aftermath mindchange

                   fuck part one re over run

                     part two des origines

 

 

                       Cryptomnesia from

                        skit to skits murky

                   something side of the retro

                      logic  no animation and no

                      frogs please Well endowed

                          the future rush part

                       of disorientation

                  miracles the past is constantly

                new the satisfaction of the thing felt

                        and said paranoia fun

                        equanimity struggle

                   and chance and magic sort of

              speak the high point of dementia

                     didn’t even give us an address

                      still gonna meet at Genesa Inn

               first conflicted then happy with the

                         Absurd they are there

                         Everywhere it‘s  their

                      reason to exist we have (been)

               overlooked& escaped

 

 

                   meltdowns of the conspiracy

                   specially designed told by the

                   power of the multitudes decree

                   new possibilities if you picture

                   them guilty guilt comes back to you

                   after got all bored and started

                   fresh again