AFTER ANNE WALDMAN

joseph cooper is a race car. joseph cooper is a fast machine. joseph cooper is fast. joseph cooper is a machine. A desire machine. joseph cooper is a desire machine incarnate. joseph cooper is intent upon languaging desire. What languaging desire means for joseph cooper is hot...is fuckin hot....what languaging bodies means for joseph cooper makes people hot...they won't let you know it either...cause it can be dirty..but it's fuckin hot and they know (it)....joseph cooper is desiring the fuck of hot language. thrusting it into itslf into you yrself it language it yrself thrusting yr desire into it...anyway cooper u it hotness...language...desire...hot...fuckin...hot...it....hot.

Collaborations of Hayes and Cooper

yes, yes that’s what I wanted between the invention of writing and the birth of modern science; I always wanted to return to the body, where I was born. The sudden interruption of affect, skin peeling off in long tatters revealing the musculature beneath. I am speaking of compassion, now blurred or the window, so weak and subject to so many evils; it is an empty house. The strange baby is the opposite direction to a human baby; the body bearing no mark of its debt to nature, when it is sheltered in a body that is unleashed only with the help of masculine degradation. Remember the way you italicized only the word harmony. Two unyielding protagonists appeared, disposable for this purpose, slightly blemished, thriving on hazard. Pedagogy cannot help but encounter the problem of imitation, velvet couch, red velvet, all the people I’ve ever known. Between the theme of love and sick body, this being occurs at the center of fear. It still makes sense, the inscription within a system of differences, to know the song after all. The speaking being as separated by sex and language, locomotion and digestion, as functions, stay intact. He feels small as he awakens, writing himself in that first instance. Fluctuating inside and outside, this was monstrous: the inability to assimilate. As I said to my friend, “we must now form and meditate upon the law of this resemblance.” I am writing to you, the frailty of symbolic order itself.

An interpretation of resistance throbs with blood as you ask the question. What I call the erasure of concepts night, good, night, good, good, night, ought to mark the places of that future meditation. An economy of analytic listening, historical manifestations, is undisturbed by the extraction of foreign body. The eye I look out of would be a relationship of translation. Even when human beings were involved with it, they complained of violent spasms. It’s expanse of sky, contradiction, between desire and pleasure. Ornery experience of the intimate recasting syntax and vocabulary. What I am to myself, shall constantly reconfirm that writing is the other that must be remembered. Incandescent, unbearable limit between inside and outside separated from mouths. It is the question of a supplement, where it cannot, my mind sinks, falling short of itself, is born. The violence of poetry, and silence, a depression visible in satellite photographs. Earlier in the evening the moon became capable of being imperceptible, going to bed, making love, the age of writing begins. When narrated, identity is a latticework mating to disperse your body as referent. As I said to my friend, the presence of a spectator is a violation, a silent and immobile darkness surrounds us.

Brown Bagazine Season Two

Hello,

I'm glad to let you know the newest issue of Brown Bagazine is complete. Issue 5, "Borders/Exclusion/The Other Politics," includes the work of Tim Armentrout, Amanda Haney, Harish Thakur, David Trame, David McLean, and Puma Perl. It is printed in color on tabloid-sized laser paper and folded to resemble a road map. The writers represent India , Sweden , Italy , and the United States .

Information is available on the website in regards to future issues, submissions, and subscriptions.

Please also be aware the following publishers are actively accepting submissions and publishing new work:

bedouin books is an independent publisher of handmade works of literature and poetry, fiction and non-fiction. Information is available at www.bedouinbooks.com.

Fact-Simile is accepting submissions for Fact-Simile 1.2 (Fall 2008). If you haven’t seen their flagship magazine, yet (Featuring an Interview with Jerome Rothenberg), you can check out a PDF version on their website: www.fact-simile.com.

Have an excellent week!

Yours in Art,
Amy

Another TriUMPH for Goonpoetique!

Check out GALATEA #10 where Michael Koshkin's Orgy in the Beef Closet reviewed by Eileen Tabios!

Then go to TRANSMISSION PRESS and buy it.

Fair Dream w/Ginsberg (to be read as a monologue by Bobby Louise Hawkins)

A large crowd cued up in the Marshfield/Pembroke Burger King anticipating the beginning of Opening Night for the Marshfield Fair ("New England's largest and oldest fair"). A more antique Bohemian flavor than your usual fast food chain. Steven Tyler mingles and greets people, Steve Correll brings guests unusual food and drink. ST come up and talks to us in anticipation of arrival of featured reader & main event at fair first night - Allen G! There is a swirl of unusual, artistic, old world peoples, elaborate animal clothes, foreign languages & accents. We talk w/ ST when Allen's entourage enters - he is frailer, w/ a much bigger beard than usual. There is a great rush for him but he navigates with ease & comes right over to us, - informal introductions, - he has heard of us through the Naropa circles. We are all pleased & conversate like old friends tho soon time to go & the great rollicking energy of the place is let out when Allen leaves. We agree to meet after the reading - a great party being thrown by an old Russian restauranteur.

We stop at liquor store Rte. 139, a great buzz & crowd of townies in parking lot, many I used to go to high school with. They know nothing of Allen or the great reading, but are planning to visit the Demolition Derby at the fair that nite. We turn them on & soon everyone's excited to go; the entourage doubles. The line around fairgrounds entrance seems endless, but we pass right through into this large barn with a grandstand; tiered medieval looking room lit with huge warlording candled chandeliers. Crowd, raucous as before - barbarian furs, eastern Euro- roughstock, accented, bearded, elaborate evening dress, men & women hard to tell apart. A friendly man I recognize from around town approaches w/ large suitcase - he's been put in charge of what Allen should read tonight and what do we think? He opens suitcase to find all of Allen's books, bound in elaborate, 18th C. type leather, gold calligraphied handwriting on spines, etc. We ponder set list like excited music fans - old farovites chosen - "Howl", "Green Valentine", etc. - I want to suggest "Wichita Vortex Sutra" but we somehow mutually agree on one of his more obscure favorites called "The Beginning." (Later, awake, I check: Allen has no poem called this.)

Allen reads, all a great success, we rush off to restaurant - again, a dark, unusual other occult country feel - old friends are met again at an overflowing bar - talk abounds again with Allen, & other poets.

I end up in conversation with the owner who ushers me away into separate seating area where other non-reading attendees are dining in black tie & dress. There is a large table set for the reading guests that have arrived, tho nobody interested in sitting to eat or casual conversation. The owner - old, eastern European accent, kind dark eyes' penetrating gaze - makes me sit at a table for two with his mother (or ancient wife?). He pulls up a chair & together they take food from her plate & waiters & waitresses continuously bring & feed me the most unusual elaborate & delicious appetizers I have ever tasted ...

where to begin with a bit of hard sausage or SWP wk 1 sat.

the death dream in pool repelling seemed to be the century
gradually less expired endeared juniper/a miss list greeted these
breaks a plurality in asphalt placed semantic in so many spaces
to experience feet on trophies so that spectator implies dig
just like we the moment who shake a trick in discourse falls
language proposed a memory in body: the pronoun fits in curves
low to the right leg should make time for an address: it playing
the coming and soft like it just gelled in that not tomorrow before

dear disconnect,

we speak of resentment as an old hat bent one too many times around the brim. but our collective intolerance became things that were essentially different. ever narrowing circles. the anguish of answering questions. voluptuous imaginings. pushing rude sex back into the obscene. I never uttered that loose word. that interdiction or concealment. it was hard to know this as politics. an entirely theoretical elaboration. sexual manuals newlyweds. and never has perversion noted such strange ass. the most numerous and searching details. nakedness persuading shapes of rationality. unusual erotic art. sustained--but not without trembling a little.

Robert Duncan's warp and woof lecture/naropa university...year not listed...

part 1

part 2

Now Available!

Slumgullion Press Presents

"Between Here and the Telescopes"

Collaborations in Poetry by Elizabeth J. Guthrie & Andrew K. Peterson

...

"As happy proof of the truth of no boundaried person, the two find speech between and string it with bright word-shapes and their fellows. This book of poems is happy to have been made in that garden where "half my voice/is yours, all of it here" and "sings there here, hear." These are almost invisible collaborations, and a wonderful contribution to the growing literature of that way of making." - Reed Bye

.

"With "Between Here and the Telescopes" Elizabeth Guthrie and Andrew Peterson have generated work that is as unpredictable as it is inevitable. One is drawn in by its unfailing focus, then held by the certainty of the language." - Junior Burke

.

"Somewhere some poets are having a dialogue and in doing that they skip across borders of authorship, narrativity, and what I imagine to be imaginary constraints, to unveil the mind as a collection of possibilities. It's happening here, where "Between Here and the Telescopes" restages collaboration. In these gorgeous poems, (Peterson and Guthrie) play with experimentation, voice, location and dislocation, cut-ups, abstractions, the quotidian and the familiar, to gather, gorgeously and unselfconsciously, a poetics of possibility. That is what is happening now. Glad I'm here in this new century to receive it. - Akilah Oliver

.

...

$5

Chapbook: 48 pages, side stich binding.

Wood engraving, cover design/printing by

Dirk E. Lee at Naked Man Press, Missoula, MT.

...

...

For ordering, contact:

Liz at elizabeth.guthrie@gmail.com

Andy at akpeterson79@hotmail.com

&/or visit:

Slumgullion.org

yesterdays tomorrow

on roman jakobson's early piece..."the tasks of Artistic Propaganda," Stephen Rudy has to say..."...formulated according to the Formalist credo that any work of art is a deformation of previous works, which affords literary evolution a dynamic nature. It goes on to debunk the notion of popular appeal as a measure of a work's value, a conservative tendency that is opposed to 'truly revolutionary artistic enlightenment,' the task of which is 'the revolutionizing of cultural, in particular, aesthetic habits' and 'the overcoming of artistic statics."

the devil begins to write
a marvelous animality of asses and mouths

by diminishing or destroying the locus proprius
tortured bodies written by law

after falling into a magical sleep she gives birth
dismembering orgiastic

swallowed up like atlantis
peaks beaks arrows and sharp points

doubtless, there must always be death for speech
nocturnal feeders where bodies are lips

do we exist to speak to the other or be spoken by her
an androgyny halfway burst open

a challenge of and dedication to
cutup bodies that can be disassembled like dolls

Slumgullion Issue 4!

ISSUE FOUR IS DONE. And here it is.....It isn't available everywhere yet because we have not yet made enough to stock both the Bookmobile and Haus Frau. These are wayyyy labor intensive so they are taking a while to get enough together. But if you want one, they are $10, and you can either buy one from Courtney Blazon at her booth at the Saturday Market, or from the Bookmobile there, or at upcoming events. Soon to be at Haus Frau as well! Very soon. See below the photo for updates on recent events, upcoming plans, and so on!

Did you know there is a real treasure map inside that leads to a real treasure buried in Missoula? Did you also know that you will find work by Courtney Blazon, Katie Ludwick, Nabil Kashyap, Jonathan Marquis, collaborations by Liz Guthrie & Andy Peterson, and that the cover is made by Kayla i dont know her last name? And more? Yes, there is more.

[from Slumgullion.org, Missoula, MT]

*

Also:

LIZ & ANDY to read poetry on the radio!

In support of forthcoming collaborative chapbook,

BETWEEN HERE AND THE TELESCOPES (Slumgullion, 2oo8)

(more details on the book soon....)

NEW LAKES POETRY RADIO
Thursday, May 22, 8-10 p.m. KBGA 89.9 FM, Missoula, Montana

slumgullion.org

kbga.org

thenewlakes.blogspot.com

Tell yr Mother ya Love Her

(click poem to enlarge)
poem by andrew peterson

Inspired by reading Celeste

My newest book Touch Me, has been a barrage sexuality, anger, lust, reflection, memory, and relationship. For me, getting away with something, has never really been the issue. this is about committing to truths of human emotion and desire. desire being the key factor to initiate lust, to initiate demand, acting upon this desire is feeding appetite, is disregarding denial. we have been taught as a culture to ration, to take only what you need (there are variations obviously), but in writing there is freedom to expose and be exposed. l feel like writing is a process of expression and mine surfaces in sexual violence, and this i make no apologies for. i have been receiving flack recently for the difficulty in accessibility, the circuitry of encoded language. it is considered by some to be a game, and one of alienation of audience. but we need to consider, very much so, our INTENDED, audience. who are you trying to reach? if audience finds discomfort, the only question or conern that should exist in the writer is whether or not they continue, and furthermore, if they do or do not continue reading, who do they tell of this experience and how does that further, communicate, network, market accessibility? there has always been and will always be a market for the grotesque, the sexual, the violating (by a show of hands, how many own porn, or have enjoyed it on some level?) your audience is there, as i wouldn't be writing you if you weren't audience.

But if i had to examine, perhaps, reasoning for success in this genre i would have to say that on some level i rely on form, on constraints, for this allowance. As Dodie Bellamy relies on Horror, Bhanu on identity and relation, i escape insecurity by recognizing body, using the grotesque as writers before me have as well, see Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal", among others who have used exposure of reality and truth of bodily action as methodology. this is contact. this is bodily significance that reaches further than regulation, than the bindings of flesh necessity. we are investigators. we are interrogaters of body. this needs no apology. this needs no forgiveness. i do not apologize for my love of pornography, for my absolute unsatiated desire for erotic body, for the text that is provision.

in truth, it is all about body, recognizing that body is character, body is element, body is exposed to action, and circumstance. as hot as is the stench of your and my ass, we are body. as much as my genitals find satisfaction when aligned with another's we are body. as much as beer is smooth, and glass divides flesh, we are body. we cannot avoid what happens to body in life, body is subject to desire, to injury, to want, to fluctuation in size, to dismembering, to memory. but what i consider equally communicable is the tangential transference of memory. in essence, memory is mine and yours, but neither one is reliable, is consistent. because i have memories that i truly believe are my but are actually hearsay, memory is manipulated, therefore human identity can be manipulated. it is the fear of succumbing to desire that forces purity of memory. religion, corporation, gender role identity, these things REGULATE what is acceptable, what is reliable.

but this is whole other side of erotica and acceptability. a text like dodie bellamy's Cunt-ups, a derivitive of the William Burroughs/Brion Gysin experience expostulated upon in Third Mind, dissolves REGULATION, by hermaphroditic identity. body is omnipresent, and not subjugated to corporation but is therefore pronounced manipulated, and manipulating of human experience and sexuality. while every text cannot be hermaphroditic, because of human obsession with authorship and the demand for recognition, it can stimulate the ambiguity that must exist in text for univeral, experiential transformation. so the question is, how does text exhibit ambiguity whie demonstrating human experience? is collaboration the key to denying authorship (see wickerman, consultations)? are we defined as writers, as thinkers, as bodies, by regulatory knowledge and experience? is memory defended and moreso responsive to ethics? can dissolving memory constraints dilate textual inhibition, to widening audience and accessibility?

What Touch Me affords me, as a writer, is that it is based on the memory game Simon, if you recall. incorporating childhood memories bashed with sexuality and conflict of relationship's present, affords me a certain tenderness in violation. the significance of gaming is that it draws upon deep childhood memories (obviously audience is reduced to those exposed for complete textual satisfaction, but even on the internet you can play Simon). everyone has relationships with gaming. this is notion of connection, of affiliation between writer and reader. drawing upon relation, upon that communication is essential to textual connection. and by tampering with memory, writing is priveleged to the indistinguishable patterns which memory creates. Perversion through memory.

make it universal, make it organic. if it's bodily how can audience refuse it? make it somehow relational, a place for communication. if there can be an interaction, a dialogue between author and text, a textual relationship between them, then refusal of bodily relation is the pain of audience, not the text. while audience is necessary for the respiration of text, there committment to it, raises them from the operating table. they are patient and surgeon alike. ultimately by making the text interactive, providing the privelege and responsibility to partake, see shelley jackson's Patchwork Girl, or in some respect, Jamba Dunn's Fossil 23, the reader will become more immersed in their responsibility and action with said text. by placing commands on the reader, do this, do that, they are forced, or less commandingly so, convinced to obey the requirements of the text.

command vs. request is really the two forms poetically we're experiencing here. demanding a reader to partake, to experience, forces them, verbs the shit out of them, imposing interaction. more commonly is the voyeur text, the inclusin based luring, on teasing a reader inside a text. even the most widely accepted writers, such as Billy Collins, or Charles Bukowski, commit to luring. Collins does so in form, in the hynotics of language, the charisma of the line, forming a sense of perfection and neatness, which promotes populous, promotes readership, a sense of reliability and committment. this is luring, this is the basic form of seduction. Bukowski, on ther other hand, while committing to the "art of seduction" entices readership through setting, and the unfamiliar. he still fails to promote command, in the sense that we're speaking, but lures a reader through a series of interactions: whores, race tracks, alcohol, isolation, etc. ultimately this a language of committment and communication in its most simplistic form. without communication, language is essentially useless, therefore audience is a required condition. but again, there are various methods of infecting audience with these notions of request vs. command.

in my text, Autobiography of a Stutterer, i have placed readers in an uncomfortable situation. they are forced into impediment. when i was younger, i watched the terror and discomfort in people's faces as they watched me struggle for voice. some so uncomfortable with the action taking place they offered to call an ambulance. so i am very much associated to discomfort, but essentially you must not consider offense as hindrance. offense is for those who choose discomfort and are blinded by such, unwilling to explore the various avenues of discovery capable in human dissection, both literally and figuratively. the impediment forces discomfort; if read aloud the audience/reader is forced into authorship via experiencial dissertation. they are speaking pain; they are speaking violation; they are essentialling committing themselves to the act of impediment, the action of violating language...which brings me to a whole new point that this is ultimately, first and foremost, a violation of and through language. we are not pornographers; we are not visual artists in the most mechanical, fundamental regards of that expressionism. we are literary, we are read. writing up to the twentieth century required a violation of language because the option of media was unavailable. now in this mediatized culture we are subjected to simplification through language, furthermore the reduction in comprehension and willingness to postulate, learn, discover, and then erradicate their willingness to be exposed and therefore are discomforted by this "new" exposure through language, when in actuality we, as a mediatized culture, are violated quite heavily and regularly by media.

what shakespeare would have done in words, what jonathan swift would have done in words, etc, would have been accepted for the sake of visual representation, for the sake of communication and the discovery of signficance, human elements, entertainment, and truths. now what dodie bellamy does, what daphne gottlieb, etc., is considered, if not underground, avant garde, an experimental text that is certainly not considered by wider audience. but really how often to the arts, those that abscond from formula, monetary advantage, find exposure and wider audience. not often. so basically, through a mediatized culture, one that is exposed visually to horror, violation, murde, be it news updates, or simpy visual arts, movies, television shows, we as a culture should be accumtomed to it, but somehow reading the words aloud is more violation than a simple viewing. while it is no longer necessary to write horror in the truest sense of writer/reader relationship it has been discomforted and banished to "underground" audiences. but this mentality, this erotica, this impediment, this violation, this sexual violence, this experience has never been detached completely, simply traveled the various back roads of artistic community.


jared and i have done extensive work in collaboration based on violating the grotesque body, see www.aplaceforcrazies.blogspot.com. with this work we have pushed audience to a level of actually standing over the operating table, violating text through thievery, violating body through murder, dissection, disembowelment, and various other methods of cutting.

sexually violating memory games

So here I go thinking again. What is violence in language and how, as a writer do you articulate uncomfort throurh language without isolating? And, probably more to the point, why, as a writer, should you even care about this violation?

Joseph Cooper gave me some deep thoughts at this past weekends in.tim.ate series. (Yeah Jamba for hosting and being such a driving force!)

Ok, back to the ideas - violence + sex + language + memory = sexually violating memory games - all part of poetry, right?

"your tongue doing things you didn't think it could"

can one use language to experience physicality? I think this is something I have played with for some time- the smut poems I write or the pseudo-romantic luv poems attempt at re-creating fabricated memory moments that interact with the reader evoking a sense of touch, taste, smell...well, maybe i have not yet gotten the smell part down, but the taste/touch i think possibly. Actually, to digress - who has achieved smell in their writing?? anyone? anyone? bueller?

point of interest in the lecture: hair is dead/ we all have deadness - we run our fingers through our lover's deadness (i.e. their lushous locks of dead string - gross).

memory as dismembered body - i gave my left forearm to the other body

"fuck love mustard and swap self infliction" - Touch Me by Joe Cooper

"I've agreed to run my tongue along your scar" - Cunt Ups by Dodie Bellamy

I think this last quote might just end up being the impetus for a new piece of writing - i have to say it is just yummy.

Joe did a splendid job of provoking the audience and compelling interaction with the content - makes me wonder if you can inherit a stutter or if this impediment in language causes a default of more precision when articulating. Like the disruption actually creates a space for creation and in that a breadth of betterment...


- this has been a series of deep thougths by celestual.

goon news

(photo...Harry Smith, Reed Bye, Jack Collom, Steven Taylor)

A note: the new issue of Jacket features three of us goons!! Mr. Armentrout's chapbook All This Falling Away is described in the introductory essay. And My own CaGeD is featured with a few poems as well as a selection of Mr. Cooper's Touch Me jacket issue 35 Dusie Feature (scroll to bottom of page)

Yo, and all yall should keep yr eyes out next month for the new issue of Fence. You'll find work by yours truly as well as goon mama, Jennifer Koshkina/Rogers translating mr. viteslav nezval....(i'm almost positive we're both in the upcoming issue!)


Also, last but not least, check out bhanu's new blog at kerouacispunjabi

TOUCH ME

Hello Goons...just wanted to inform you all that my second manuscript is finally completed. I sent it off to BlazeVox, but if anyone has any suggestions for publishers who might be interested in sexually violating memory games then let me know...i'll send it off...and by the way,

CONGRATS TO THE ARMENTROUT FAMILY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Garren Hunter Armentrout

Here he is! Born at 7:50am, 4/21, 7 pounds and 10 ounces, 20 inches long

words find their readers

so i've been reading through the complete poems of anna akhmatova for the last several days, and i keep coming across amazing shorter pieces of her work, most from the last years of her life.

today in our little world we have been rushing around the house getting ready for the baby's arrival tomorrow morning and i took a break from cleaning to read and "randomly" opened to this poem.


CREATION

it says:
I remember everything simultaneously;
Like the distant beam from a distant lighthouse,
I carry the universe before me
like an easy burden in an outstretched palm,
and in the depths, mysteriously growing, is the seed
of what is to come...


we'll be in the hospital for a few days, but as soon as there are pictures i'll post them.