The Barnyard

Happy Holidays Goons!!

noreply@blogger.com (akp) — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 03:20:00 +0000

Love, Andy
circa 1982

cooper and hayes

noreply@blogger.com (jcooper) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 00:09:00 +0000

If you love her barter for her sustenance. Eat eat the abortion is about to take place. That is lovely in women. Flimsy winged setting out on the greatest adventure. There was another woman I also loved. Smashes gate they took away the needle. I leaned over an elbow and kissed her. the greatest waves of happiness as we beat up the dog. I’m going to roll it up in a rug and smoke it. And in the outside there is reddening red. I slipped between good intentions. Among the days of pasture’s beat the dog gave a little quiver. I cannot be more than the man who watches. I’m the one who should lick you.

I’m a narrow bed in a box. No wiser than the days of waiting. Let me count the ways that you are dead. You are a proper form without sound. To see the sea written in cement upon the sidewalk. Some god truly looks down upon them. Now I am going to travel. Born of sexual shock. Another tractor is invented. Words will not say anything more than they do. I am lonely unto sickness because no one’s fucking me. I cannot relieve it nor leave it. God remains in the animal you’ve taken leave of your senses. There is love only as love is.

Issue #2 is out!

noreply@blogger.com (Elizabeth Guthrie) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 16:36:00 +0000

http://requitedjournal.com/

Hayes and Cooper

noreply@blogger.com (jcooper) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:57:00 +0000

The faraway livestock the faraway live the nearby crook. Whose is the voice that empties? Babel her tower doeth tie my tongue. So with his daughter they reemerge grotesque. Oh I am so happy I am so happy I like Santa Claus. I remember those good old days the warm spots on the body. Upon which my very being depends. The body beneath the wrapping. Its power which vivifies the brains. The branches of the pine drooped heavily an insufferable prick. We know doubt suffer all kinds of injuries even violations. Yes it is sex and money that matters. Jack Frost is a funny fellow he bites little girls he bites little boys. We saw they object like everyone else.

Visitors are hurried to unlearn them. Day that passes day that stays day that passes. The first, third, fifth, seventh, ninth, eleventh, and thirteenth stanzas are contractual. It’s a shame I’m not a better Buddhist. Here and there it was very light and dark. Hear her clear mirror care his error. Cross an unusual and complex meter. It should read: unpacking my heart with words. A headless man, woman, or dog calling for their god. Perch less bird fly on the leaves be heard. Slut-bitch support my revenge. Be patient I’m sorry. I dreamt we were deceptively simple. P.S. I want to resign

SWP 2005

noreply@blogger.com (Elizabeth Guthrie) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 14:09:00 +0000

I had to "repost" these photos - from John Sakkis' Facebook post

Too much!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/77948983@N00/sets/1084499/show/

Authenticity Made The Tourists Weep...for and after akp

livestockjared@gmail.com (Hayes) — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 17:45:00 +0000

phallic to freud, that fucking
freak felled yellows. signs to
become historical spill through the
keyless lock swung-off like
a harry smith obsession we
are left to our bottomless
sea-palms fishing these over-
flowered waters… your tune to
wail a loon with me

AWP Denver 2010

noreply@blogger.com (celestual) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 16:47:00 +0000

hey goons - Registration costs are cheapest now through december 15. i am a non-member and am looking to register, but want to get the deets from everyone who is traveling into town - also, i have room at my downtown condo, which is walking distance to the events, first come, first serve!

Happy Thanksgiving Goons!!

noreply@blogger.com (akp) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 20:31:00 +0000

FIRST COURSE
.
Corn
.
Corn is a small hard seed.
.
Corn from Delft
Is good for elves.
.
White corn, yellow, Indian
.
Is this kernal a kernal of corn?
.
The corn they sought
Was sown by night.
.
The Corn Islands are two small islands,
Little Corn Island and Great Corn Island,
on an interoceanic canal route.
.
Any of several
insects that bore in maize is a corn borer.
.
(Bernadette)
.
* * *
.
SECOND COURSE
.

Turkeys

for Tom Carey

They have bent.

They cling.

They attack & capture.

It is a treat, a nightmare, a punch in the face.

He wanders by himself.

He lingers. He idles

In his little house.

He absorbs, and is absorbed.

He begins to bear down on what he sees:

Young faces, puzzling argot, meat, or "the postulant":

You nod and scrunch up your face and chuckle.

Let me out of here you silently shriek.

"I've got to hang up now, a man is yelling at me."

A pill always seems to be about something.

(Teddy Ballgame)

* * *

THIRD COURSE

Thanksgiving's Done

All leaves gone, yellow

light with low sun,

branches edged

in sharpened outline

against far-up pale sky.

Nights with their blackness

and myriad stars, colder

now as these days go by.

(Creeley)

* * *

DESSERT

The Best Thanksgiving Ever
.

After the meal, Sandy decided we should spice up charades

by slapping the loser's butt with a ping-pong paddle.

Whenever Ed got slapped, he farted because he was so nervous.

The ladies won, slapped all the men's butts, but then what to do?

"Take off your clothes!" I told Sean, who didn't seem like the kind

of guy who'd do such a thing--but he was, and he did. Then Jim

took off his clothes. Then John. And then the other Jim

who brought all the lovely bottles of wine. And finally Ed.

Deb came out of the bathroom and saw five big men naked in the kitchen.

They screamed, "Take off your clothes!" We all figured she would,

and she did. Then Sandy the Slapmaster, then me, then Tomoko

who kept her glasses on. We walked around the house naked,

talking about how it was to be naked with other naked people,

how none of the guys had boners, and how cold it was out in the garage.

Somebody found a big bottle of vodka. We made a no-hugging rule.

John kept trying to open the curtains and show the neighbors

what they were missing. Deb thought an orgy was imminent,

but since we'd all spent a lot of time in Iowa, I didn't think it would fly.

Jim passed out. Ed put a robe on. I passed out. We woke up

the next morning in T-shirts, ate bagels from Bagel Land, and

said, "We all got naked last night." That afternoon, on our way

to the Walt Whitman Mall, the ladies gave each other nicknames

ending with the word Bitch. Deb was Shy Bitch,

Sandy was Gentle Bitch, Tomoko was Slutty Bitch and I was Silent Bitch.

All the bitches agreed that slapping people's butts with a paddle

was something we needed to do every weekend, that this was the best

Thanksgiving ever, and that Ed had the biggest dick we'd ever seen.

(Jennifer L. Knox)

A Sh Anthology Reading in Denver, CO

noreply@blogger.com (akp) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 15:32:00 +0000

Fact-Simile Editions
invites you to join us as we celebrate the release of the
A Sh Anthology

Saturday, November 7th at The Dikeou Collection in Denver.

The evening’s festivities will include live performances by:

Selah Saterstrom
Erik Anderson
Sara Veglahn
Andrew K. Peterson
and
j/j/[pleth

Doors open at 6:30 and the reading starts at 7pm.

If you're unfamiliar with The Dikeou Collection , check out their website, and be sure to arrive early so you can explore this amazing space:

Saturday, November 7th @ 7pm
The Colorado Building
1615 California Street (at 16th Street)
Suite 515
Denver, CO 80202

We hope to see you there...

Oh yeah, and the A Sh Anthology will be on sale for one-time-only price of $9.99!

For those of you in far away places, stay tuned. We will be posting a full video recording of the event on our blog as soon as we get back to New Mexico.

In the meantime...

Best Regards,

Travis Macdonald & JenMarie Davis
Fact-Simile Editions
http://fact-simile.com/
Travis@fact-simile.com
JenMarie@fact-simile.com

& Now Review

noreply@blogger.com (akp) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 00:45:00 +0000

A Review of the recent &Now Conference in Buffalo includes a small write up on Jared-Joe-Cara-Jennifer's piece, as well as some rrrecording of it! Here:

http://bigother.com/2009/10/21/now-conference-a-conference-of-innovate-writing-the-literary-arts/

noreply@blogger.com (jcooper) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 18:47:00 +0000

HAPPY HALLOWEEN ALL YOU GOONS!!!

the buffalo concussion

noreply@blogger.com (timarmentrout) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 01:21:00 +0000

(departures/ronceverte/charleston/dc)
i remember
the first day at naropa
sitting on the front steps
silent
surrounded by other silent
people
until jared hayes
said the first word
and soon
our small crowd
dissected
a path
that snuck down
towards the water's edge
the fringe of the fringe
and continued to hold that space
until there were continents
between us

i remember that
andy peterson didn't show up
until later that night
and he sounded familiar
with panic
when he announced to an
auditorium of words
that he had driven from Arizona
with no idea
where he would sleep that night

i remember
how the bouncers
at the dark horse
thought my id was fake
because they had never
actually seen someone
from west virginia
for the rest of the summer
they called me "westie"
and made wisecracks about
my dreadlocks
and our general attendance
at naropa

i remember
going there for karaoke
flabbergasted
when joe coooper
belted out bob dylan
and his impediments
sulked toward the door
defeated
while the audience
picked their chins
up from the floor

i remember
knowing instantly
that these people
would be some
of the most important
friends i would ever know

(arrival/bufffalo)
strange transcendences after playing mental reels over again for four years. a friend from undergraduate picks me up at the airport. i call cooper and get directions. at joe's house he says, "this is your friend!?" and they recognize each other right away.

blizzard provisions
goons and
carry onwards
niagara
and now?
preparations
interruption
meeting
speaking
preparations

do you want to keep rushing towards this wall?
i just started talking

i tend to have party narcolepsy
if i'm not careful about my posture

what does it mean to go
straight at it?
to try not to have an agenda is an agenda

when is it that i surrender
to the material?
interested in interruption
aren't we supposed to be innovative?
is interruption a structure?
so much text
just start hearing things
how much can you put up with?

reflection diagnoses
the momentary spasms
welcome back
ceiling fan
snick
death
hair
cut or not
sorry is the subject
a blind dog shits in living room
upon guests entering
the questions persists

At What Point Do the Authors Take Control?

Jared Hayes tagged andrew peterson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged andrew peterson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged andrew peterson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged andrew peterson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged you in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged andrew peterson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged you in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged you in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged annie weiner in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged annie weiner in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged annie weiner in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged annie weiner in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Cara Benson in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged jennifer karmin in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged you in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged Joseph Cooper in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged himself in one of your photos. Jared Hayes tagged you in one of your photos.

and another night sets away
head still bent tender
beneath glittery ceiling
like a dream
that can only be explained
by a stack of
smuggled books

Poetry Marathon

noreply@blogger.com (Elizabeth Guthrie) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 11:44:00 +0000

http://www.serpentinegallery.org/2009/06/poetry_marathonsaturday
_and_su_1.html

....I maintain, Vito Acconci...mmmmmm.......

Cantos Reading Group

noreply@blogger.com (Elizabeth Guthrie) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 09:45:00 +0000

http://www.openned.com/blog/2009/10/5/cantos-reading-group.html

What we talk about when we talk about readership/writership or lighting up on the harvard church steps

livestockjared@gmail.com (Hayes) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 09:54:00 +0000

l to r, joseph, jared, andrew...photo by jennifer dunlap...

this past july, andrew peterson, joseph cooper, and myself met in beantown for some daysnights of thievery and general pirate-like behaviors. i want to recap (from some distance now) on some of the conversations as well as attempt to (re?) vision gestures in my own poetic repetitions.

We walked: from the Y, to Northeastern U, to the fens, to fenway, to cambridge, to boylston, to MIT, to Harvard, to bookstores, to etc...we walked. we took the trains. we dove headfirst into a sideways rainstorm. we drank. we walked. we burned. we walked. we had a catch. but most of all...we read poems. we read poems out loud. we talked about what was just read. we (re)membered our own histories. we created. we collaborated. we destroyed. we talked. we read. we continued to walk. Joe had blisters.

as i look back into my memory (is memory something to look back into or to actively create?)i am overwhelmed by the pleasure of encounter and the friendship the three of us shared together that weekend. in fact, as of this moment, the joy of it clouds some of the fruitful knowledge making that occurred (as exegesis may be a kind of illusion anyway(?)). im learning i shld carry a digital recorder with me everywhere i go so that i might mis(re)member more succinctly. in any case, andy, seems to always be carrying the right texts for (dare I say it) coterie engagements. i'm sure it has to do with his love and attention to the various constellations of New York School.

Non-New York school related Sidenote: i smiled, and am smiling again thinking about a moment when we all brought up Creeley and his idea/use of the living-room-word "company"...and now it seems as though my moment was not singular but rather a congruence of a few choice interactions when it seemed as though no other word made more sense in its relation to us there, then in those particular momentums...

So Back to it: Andy has immediately with him at a bench at Northeastern U, ron padgett's YOU NEVER KNOW. I remember thinking as we shared the reading, volta, volta, volta (like marsha, marsha, marsha) and...these are amazing TEXTBOOK prose poems...and now i'm also (re)membering mr. padgett has also written poetry TEXTBOOKS...

padgett sidenote: those prose poems are, to me, exemplifications of a kind of postmodern reading/writing through of a modernist lineage...the manner in which (i apologize for the quick labeling rather than an extensive unpacking) a kind of "personism" infused with padgett's relationship to other new york schoolers, berrigan and koch in particular (again, to my less than comprehensive reading) combine with a line of breton, aragon, shlovsky, and jakobsen...wait...not sure that NY/surrealist/futurist labels can really describe what i mean now or what i meant then...no matter...the reading cld stand a closer gesture sometime...Joe...what was it you said, there, then, about cinema, about padgett's imagery, about his skullduggery? about his influence and relation to a different kind of visual world...and andy, what was your observation about the actual films he wrote about and through? will you both attempt to remember for us, (or make it up again) and add your thoughts here( ).

by then we were lit up...the twilight shone through our eyes and we felt spirits in our smiles and word-voices...we went to some bars...we read from each of our newest projects...re-re-vealing our poetics to one another...my own overtly obsessive interaction with ethics and architextural pre-conception, joe's pursuit of transcendence through excess, violence and desire, andy's deconstructive phenomenology of dream-presence through lyric dream (collecting) memory (collecting)...all of us landing in a matrix of shared relationships to poets, geographies, histories...a shared desire for the blaser labeled spicerian PRACTICE OF OUTSIDE...for a dialogic or polylogic approach to reading and writing (our worlds)...and maybe connecting most of this is the desire for the disruption of traditional, phallogocentric, static, singular, authoritative panoptic modes of authorship...but maybe i'm just projecting my own values upon that great time...

...so although we didn't know it yet in beantown...the best was yet to come...installment two with buffalo addendum coming in the near future!

Susan Howe

noreply@blogger.com (Elizabeth Guthrie) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 12:02:00 +0000

Lecture today Birkbeck College, reading Thursday South Bank Centre

http://www.bbk.ac.uk/cprc/news/Howe_Grubbsseminar

will let you know how it goes - sorry

and again...

livestockjared@gmail.com (Hayes) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 16:21:00 +0000

50 + 30

into the light directly with
what I knew to be
Myself light up within entirely
the length though I was
also it is this the
deepest this light, I said,
our light, is the same
as the awhile; then I
spoke again: I’m at peace
with being longer of this

world, he has left it behind the world, something the
living survival, indeterminate, indifferent, about Hear, her / Clear / Mirror, / Care?
His error. / In her / Care his error. In her, / Care /

my new favorite poetic form...the fifty plus thirty...

livestockjared@gmail.com (Hayes) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 10:05:00 +0000

50 + 30 (+1)

Finally, finally my envelope had
finally burst and spread out
unto all the ways, coming
to dwell at the brink.
May in fact be filled
by different individuals them into
some concrete form of He
says (or wanted to say,
or said) undertakes his critique
of the notion of the

Specification of the subject-function whose status, form or value,
and regardless of Indeed, the partner is none other than
s/he who I might…I have…/(unintelligible) Charlie Parker was called.

check this out...old but incredibly relevant...

noreply@blogger.com (jcooper) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 18:52:00 +0000

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2004/03/25/MNGI85QTK11.DTL

livestockjared@gmail.com (Hayes) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 18:34:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (jcooper) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 23:46:00 +0000

SNUFF POETICS!!!!!! WHAT COMES TO MIND? CUZ HOLY SHIT I'M IN IT...

good grief

noreply@blogger.com (celestual) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 15:42:00 +0000

http://bombsite.powweb.com/?p=3872

from Casual Encounters, ch. 1 Lust

noreply@blogger.com (jcooper) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 23:59:00 +0000

I too have come to seek the hasty discretion of mirrors. I am and who is there. In content’s dream everything is repulsive and lovable. Muscle spasms brushed against regret. Admit the body is a ribbon, an ocean rolled into darkness. Admit the constant hatred of intimacy. It pushes straight through to savage interior. Originate as appetite, a neutral pornography, a monstrous arbitrary semblance discreetly reaches. They are all my screaming dolls, in what grimaces of disgust they wallow. Speak only of their servitude. Bodies split with visitors, orifices of ghosts. We deserve everything inflicted on us. There is no fragility. Flesh demands disgust and brutality.

bostonian productivity

noreply@blogger.com (timarmentrout) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 01:54:00 +0000

well gentlemen, i for one am sitting in a sweaty corner in the living room, jealous of a rendevous i had wanted to attend. hope you freaks had a cute time together, remeniscing and poeting and finding some river with a bank wide enough for a congregation of goons.
as compensation for my immobility i had, at the very least, looked forward to some undoubtedly depraved collaboration sprawled across bar napkins and punctuated with little drops of Jameson's...

i'll be sharpening all my knives in preparation for whatever glorious beef inches a bloody trail out of the closet...

from The Frenzy

noreply@blogger.com (jcooper) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 15:16:00 +0000

Never would you have considered me crazed, passing you by in the road newspaper in hand, kicking a stone from side to side along the sidewalk. And yet there I was finally out of my mind, free of it all. Surely you are not to blame. There was nothing about me that would have given it light. My dirty blond hair neatly disheveled, parodied my deliberate jaw line. A three-week beard shaven neatly along my neck overlooked by a pair of thin wire-framed glasses. Masked the simpleton gauged by my sorted blue eyes. Anyone would have trusted me, extending my hand in a gentle embrace of solidarity and goodwill, even you. But when I look into your eyes, I do not see you anymore. I see the flesh that clothes your body, the various forms it takes, and how it can be shaken from you. Your eyes glazed over with trepidation and woe, finding a charismatic glimmer in my tone that would convince you kindly of my intentions. And you would not be mistaken most of the time. However, I have had very little occasion to abuse intention. In fact, there has been little need until about one month ago.

A. I wrote about the bloodstream—a transformative state. It arrives amid swarms of desperation. Discern a character, an artificial waking, like falling in love with a puddle, dripping, raining down. Shake her head like a dog, with others at the meat. Elbows and wrists flex with primal questions. That was her thinking. She will not be identical.

B. The dismantled dead are either triumphant or compromised. I stole from them their trajectory of experience. The pleasure in feeling the split is the act of getting here at all. But how she sketched the wolves from memory translation under treatment. The photographs were blurry from thrashing. Beg for family. Beg for life. Beg for unknown. Days are stripped of color.

C. I became fascinated by the desire for love, that it bore such indiscriminate trust. We all wish to be admired, to be adored. We all wish for someone to hold in the night. This is our forever dream. But as you sleep, as your brain splashes through waves of iridescent, strangulated memory I stand over you, you’re body-impeded dreams, and my fingertips serrated chewed flesh. And this is your forever dream. You wish for the opening out, the walking through it, time syncopated with fiction. Sketch distant from villainy. In this room where I kept her—blank for the camera. In retrospect we are a collision of line, tracks in January beneath the permanent silence of action.

D. Supposedly daisies, each garment folded precisely to location. Supposedly strawberry jam, two scoops of sugar, television from eight to ten. Supposedly at the limits of cruelty, absorb compassion, startling rigidity. Another sealed and catalogued the tended animals. Now almost worn away, the grizzly is serene.