Thursday, November 12, 2015
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Володимир Білик
Poem to be written down longhand
WWWWWWWW ww www`WWWW`W.wW. WWW.wwWW
wW`WWwwwwwWwW''w w..wW WWw`Wwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwWwWw 'ww`WWwWw'ww`'wW'wW'w
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wwwww'wWwww`w'WwwW.w.WwWWW. wWWWWW'W
W`.WwWWww WWWWWWWWWW'wWw `WW`W.wWww.WwW
WWwwW. .wwwwW `WwW'.WWw.wWWWwWw.
MMMMMMMMmm mmm`MMMM`M.mM. MMM.mmMM
mM`MMmmmmmMmM''m m..mM
MMm`Mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmMmMm
'mm`MMmMm'mm`'mM'mM'm m.Mm.Mm..MM.mmMmM.MM.
MMMMm m`MMMm.MMmmmmmm
mmmmm'mMmmm`m'MmmM.m.MmMMM. mMMMMM'M
M`.MmMMmm MMMMMMMMMM'mMm `MM`M.mMmm.MmM
MMmmM. .mmmmM `MmM'.MMm.mMMMmMm.
***
Poem of Pulling the air and moving the lips.
Ee'E.`E EEee.eeeEeE.E e.EEee.e
EE
EeE.eeEe.E`EE` eEe'EEEEEEEEEE eeEEeE.`E
E'EEEEEe.EEEeE.e.EeeE'e`eeeEe' eeeee
eeeOeOeOeOEOEO.OeOEoEoE `oeo oe`EOEOEOEO
`.OE.Eo.OE.e EOeOeO..EoEo.O.Oe
Eo.Oe`EO.Oeo oeo'oEoeO'oEOe'''`oe eo'.e.EoeOE
E
`OeOeo'`
O oeoEoeoEoeoeoeoeoeoeo oe eoeoeoeoeoeoeOeoeOeoe E
`'eoEoE`
O
OEoeO.o.'eo oe`'''oEOe'EoeOe'eoe eoE.EO`oE.eO
oE.E.eOeO..EoEoEO o.OE.eO.OE.`
EOEOEOEO`oe eoe` OeOeOEoE.EOEOEoEoEoEo
o
o. o
OoooOoOoOoo'.ooOOoOo.o'`Ooo' OO`o oOOo.ooo.oO.o O.OOOo.ooOOOO
O OOOo'OO.
o
oOO`o..OOo`OOOOo`o oOOOoO'OOOOOOO
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Jim Leftwich
Call It Anything, said Miles Davis
"orthography is syntax"
--1.
reap centu the wo-ba
editor Amerix
communr edir the
wor the. to create a
special coat
incorporatir of wort
art historians on
the barge of the
soud, during styles
and abstract snacks.
worl readymade
universal salad
sails snail, fearless
and dilution, the
lake. dolls dripping
the granite bird
sepul-vi ephemeral
one explained
broader, window
onto the continuous
road, who lessons
less their lettuce.
lest there lettuce,
tracks howling by
a future, heft is
a smoke to, paper
decolonized, in
conversation with
your secular dreams.
resurfad fashi
discussior are-futu
liber consumerist,
agenda after whid
P-math Latin some
same Bermuda
rectangles of
capitalist art,
told you last week
just as plain as
a man can speak,
equanimity parallel
intellects recombine
overt lettersponge
"Coat of the Deft"
an heralde
therefore whose
the initia, radicak
or cereal they,
among o theat fire.
changing clang a
sound-fire the
tubes the hose the
interfere referee
the cr slowly
referent how each
peach beach
approaches poached
cockroach-processed
and contr varietyx
in the sea snoring
shores, direct
laundry, on our
toes and running
between the four
sonnets, bowling
lotion, boiling
notions in keeping
with the city
(idea) capital A
"art-ists"
nothing but the
question their
expects in events
standardized by
there forms
between social
as coinciding
ever sinc by the
become-practices
spiders, streets,
"ahistorical
enclosure of the
poem-object"
bones blossom on
the corner at
midnight.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Bogdan Puslenghea
nights
nights
my beautiful vertigo
on the wrong side of
the fence
frequently
with guilt
and tenderness
my thorn is your thorn
flesh within flesh
of the night of the light of the world
low-key and unstable
as gods
they decide
who's in who's out
and who's not not
nights
my beautiful vertigo
on the wrong side of
the fence
frequently
with guilt
and tenderness
my thorn is your thorn
flesh within flesh
of the night of the light of the world
low-key and unstable
as gods
they decide
who's in who's out
and who's not not
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Casey Bush - 1 early`80s & 1 2015
Old Man Scrubbing Graffiti from the Library Wall
Enraptured progenitor of consensus
What mushrooms ring your tree?
What faded flowers do you wear in your hair?
What possibly can be learned from poetry
That isn’t already written in the lines on your face?
Sacrifice the firmament in the name of revenue
Lower the skies until all panoramas collide
Drink from the river until it runs dry
And then retreat to a mountain top citadel
Where pious folk seek desolation
Where men of granite tremble before thunder
And their women weed gardens without crops
As Splendor is superior to Veracity
As latitudes will continue to meander
As there’s no arrogance that can prevent erosion
All you need to know is in your own mind
And all you need to subsist is at your fingertips
Old age can wait until it’s too late
Keep silent about tomorrow’s incandescence
Keep silent about the power of music
Gray hair on your head
Has more color than can be imagined
Without the light of day
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Jake Berry
To paraphrase
the mockingbird
the mockingbird
the devil
made fast
with a hacksaw
made fast
with a hacksaw
and carved
a masterpiece
of industry
a masterpiece
of industry
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