sexandmurder.com
issue 10
Friday, April 30, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Reading Tuesday Night @ Desperate for Love
Same time, different channel ~
http://poetryevents.blogspot.com/2010/04/desperate-for-love-tuesday-27th-april.html
Hope to see you there! ;)
xo
http://poetryevents.blogspot.com/2010/04/desperate-for-love-tuesday-27th-april.html
Hope to see you there! ;)
xo
Sunday, April 18, 2010
today while dancing through the kitchen she sang
"together
everyone achieves
mythology"
and she stops her dance
limbs suspended
looks at me
and adds quietly
"daddy, i don't know
what that means"
before she continues
her morning song
everyone achieves
mythology"
and she stops her dance
limbs suspended
looks at me
and adds quietly
"daddy, i don't know
what that means"
before she continues
her morning song
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Now Available! Museum of Thrown Objects by Andrew K. Peterson
Greetings Friend, Happy Spring and All!
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I'm excited to share this announcement with you for the release of my first full-length book of poems, Museum of Thrown Objects, just published by BlazeVox Books (Buffalo, 2010). The cover (above) features beautiful artwork by Atlanta-based artist Dayna Thacker.
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Here’s what some beloved readers are saying about the book!
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Andy Peterson's poetry combines visual art, both his own and some found elsewhere in the universe, with words redolent of mystery, thrillers, clues and riddles, and does so in a far more intelligent and sustaining way than present popular literature -- while not adopting any sense of "superiority" to same. Museum of Thrown Objects is a terrific "read" and a likewise "look" as well. -- Anselm Hollo, Guy Fawkes Day 2009
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Imagine an ocean leaving its bed to hover above itself, where it should not be, to form a "silhouette" visible against an "afternoon." The technology of displacement is deployed, in Andrew Peterson's brilliant book, to create: not "delay" but "fusion." It makes sense, then, to build a museum out of artifacts that would, in the wetness beyond architecture, disappear by "low tide", but are instead "kept." Locked away in a decaying archive, "the thrown objects" form perverse alliances when the lights dim. Where the genitalia should be, for example, are "leafs and bugs." Intra-species, foaming, future-soaked, and with a "metallic corsage" delicately sewn to the wrist, the figures in Peterson's poems come to get you. And they do. They get you and take you somewhere until: "we are all here together in our new place." -- Bhanu Kapil
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Museum of Thrown Objects exists as a poetic architectural phenomenon. Peterson constructs a kaleidoscopic wunderkammer of lyric, vispo, and conceptual experiments. Reading/Performing through its various wings I am activated into an environment of idiosyncratic relations. Things/Objects/Words have a collaged and artificial sensibility; as if Peterson is laughing at the overbearing seriousness of our contemporary museums with some incredulous anarchistic cut & paste. The difference between encasing an artwork behind glass as a stale and defined representation of some imagined mastery and staging things/objects/words in a dynamic and active performance of potentiality. This museum is enacting a perception embedded in things as much as in ourselves and, to me most importantly, things and selves in relationship to each other. Peterson, and the reader emerge throughout as poet-collectors (curators) in the process of mapping and performing transformation and relationship. Museum of Thrown Objects instructs the reader/performer: "Do not deny you are the work of art.". And so doing provides as it performs a dialogic and critical ethics of reading. We experience Peterson experiencing and thus find our own museums everywhere. -- Jared Hayes
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I’ll say: been a joy building/cutting/pasting/curating this 'liquid architecture' from myriad found things of memory & place: errant ink petals, torn comic strips, flaky wallpaper, extinct flightless birds, rocks shaped like extinct flightless birds, transformed instruction manuals & diagrams, dream music, talking monuments & furniture, Oulipian place-mats, unsent love letters, puzzle pieces shaped like Idaho, ransom notes for missing bathroom materials, faded family photographs, errata, & other language/objects found & lost along-between there & here (from Boulder-Missoula-Arizona-desert-along-Massachusetts-coast-to-wherever-you-are...)
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Ordering info: You can purchase from me directly for $12 (which is below publisher's price & includes shipping!) by visiting my blog, www.songfromyourhometown.blogspot.com, then clicking on the PayPal “Buy Now” button on the right-hand side. (If you’d rather not order through PayPal, please feel free to send a check to me: Andrew Peterson, PO Box 532, Marshfield Hills, MA 02051). Or, I heartily encourage you to purchase by visiting BlazeVox's website, here. Oh, & trades are great, too! (E-mail me!)
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Thank you so much for all your love, friendship, support, & inspiration. Hope to see you soon!
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Love, Andy
Sunday, March 21, 2010
iii Duchamp, Dickenson, Olson: Stutters of History (from Redell Olsen's dissertation)
.....the link between written and spoken language in highly visual terms. By creating visual "hinges" within words ("receiv / ing...h / ieroglyph") and extending spacing between words ("the mute vocables") the text self-reflexively notates a nearly aphaisic form of language. The reference to a "stuttering" extends this idea as the stutterer is forced to break words up into a series of linked and repeated sounds. Howe has even described her own critical work as stuttering, a stuttering that is "acoustically charged" with "a feeling of needing to write or say something but having no idea how to say it" (Keller "Interview" 27). The hinge is one of several devices that Howe uses to foreground a moment of delay, a stuttering space which fractures the languages of her intertexual sources, thereby calling their completeness and accuracy into question.
Duchamp's The Green Box (from which Howe takes her epigraph to Hinge Picture) consists of notes for his major work The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Batchelors Even. Duchamp gave the piece the subtitle "Delay in Glass" (26):
Use "delay" instead of picture or painting on glass becomes in glass--but delay in glass does not mean picture on glass--It's merely a way of succeeding in no longer thinking that the thing in question is a picture--to make a delay of it in the most general way possible, not so much in the different meanings in which delay can be taken, but reather in their indecisive reunion "delay"-- / a delay in glass as you would say a poem in prose or a spittoon in silver. (26)
The materiality of the work is part of its meaning. Howe has made it clear just how central this art object is to her: "It would take a book for me to go on about what The Large Glass means to me...It is so two-sided. Synthesis, antithesis, reflection and delay" ("Dialogue" 286). A delay in glass is directly comparable to Howe's stutter because it is a hesitation in words that emphasises the difference between phonemes and morphemes, a space that emphasises the materiality of utterance itself. To think of the poem as occupying a space akin to a delay in glass gives Howe a position from which to criticise conventional representational structures. In The Western Borders (1976), she writes, "Enchantment like lies can alter the sight of the beholder / but not the reality of the thing seen" (n.p.) Howe's texts resist the enchantment of conventional modes of representation, modes which attempt to construct a direct link between language and the world that it purports to represent. Just as Duchamp's "Delay in Glass" call attention to its own materiality by suggesting that the large glass does not refer to something outside itself ("no longer thinking that the thing in question is a picture"), Howe's stutter calls attention to the materiality of language, thereby calling into question language's capacity to represent a referent. In effect the visually notated stutter in Howe's text offers a critique of the natural voice as the bearer of truth.
In this sense of stuttering voices and practices that seem to face certain obscurity which continually inderlies Howe's work. Her desire to invest time in "a writing practice that seems unacceptable" ("Dialogue" 380) is confirmed by her interest in Emily Dickinson. Over her life-time, Dickinson produced a series of hand-written poems in small sewn packets. These were subsequently torn apart by editors and converted into type-written approximations of their originals. Early editions of Dickinson's work superimposed a standardised punctuation onto the texts and reordered the fascicles according to themes chosen by the editors themselves, who also dismissed the multiple variants of both the texts and the individual lines within poems. For Howe, the recovery of Dickinson depends on a recovery of these verbal and visual elements from the original texts. This is obviously a difficult task. Howe reads Dickinson's poems as if they were delays in paper, moments of spaces of suspended communication that are dependent on their material manifestation (handwriting on paper) for their effect. Mistrustful of previous editorial strategies, Howe asks "Can quick particularities of calligraphic expression ever be converted to type?" (Birth 4). She struggles to reclaim a writing practice which resists the standardisation of canonical norms and so is threatened with loss and erasure.
Howe describes the way in which Dickinson created her own hybrid discourse from "higher' female education" and combined it with what was termed "unladylike" outside reading:
Pulling pieces of geometry, geology, alchemy, philosophy, politics, biography, biology, mythology, and philosophy from alien territory, a 'sheltered' woman audaciously invented a new grammar grounded in humility and hestiation. (My 21)
It is this moment of hesitation that is according to Howe gendered: "He may pause but he must not hesitate" she quotes from Ruskin (21-22). The stutter is an acoustic or phonic moment of hesitation, but it is also for Howe a kind of visual mark. Like the stutter, the visual mark (when "read" as language) falls outside the recoverable space of meaning, it does not seem to stand for anything beyond itself. Howe highlights this connection in her discussion of Hawthorne's story "The Birth-Mark", from which her own book of essays takes its name:
One day, very soon after their marriage, Alymer sat gazing at his wife, with a trouble in his countenance that grew stronger, until he spoke.
"Georgina," said he, "has it ever occurred to you that the mark upon your cheek might be removed?"
"No, indeed," said she, smiling; but perceiving the seriousness of his manner, she blushed deeply. "To tell you the truth, it has been so often called a charm, that I was simple enough to imagine it might be so."
"Ah, upon another face, perhaps it might," replied her husband. "But never on yours! No, dearest Georgina, you came so nearly perfect from the hand of Nature, that his slightest possible defect--which we hesitate whether to term a defect or beauty--shocks me, as being the visible mark of earthly imperfection. (Hawthorne qtd. in My 7)
The husband's wish to edit the face of his wife parallels the relationship of editorial control and censure that Howe seeks to address in her critical work on Dickinson. Howe challenges a tradition of editorial scholarship which has repeatedly removed and expunged the visual marking of Dickinson's texts, precisely because their characteristic features were not apparently assimilable into the recognizable orders of what could be read as language. For Howe this issue of editorial control is certainly "a gender issue" (Keller 33)
He might pause, She hesitated. Sexual, racial, and geographical separation are at the heart of Definition. Tragic and eternal dichotomy--if we concern ourselves with the deepest Reality, is this world of the imagination the same for men and women? (My 21-22)
As this passage suggests, Howe's stance toward the reclamation of a hybrid scripto-visual practice has profound implications for the feminine writing subject. Howe begins her book, My Emily Dickinson, by asserting that she will contradict her own epigraph from William Carlos Williams:
It is the women above all-there never have been women, save pioneer Katies; not one flower save some moonflower Poe may have seen, or an unripe child. Poets? Where? They are the test. But a true woman in flower, never. Emily Dickinson, starving of passion in her father's garden, is the very nearest we have ever been--starving.
Never a woman: never a poet. That's axiom. Never a poet saw sun here. (Williams qtd. in My 6)
At the same time, Howe makes it quite clear that "A poet is never just a woman or a man" (7): "We are all both genders. There is nothing more boring than stridently male poetry and stridently female poetry" (Birth 172). Gender effects language, but this is not the whole story: "we constantly confront issues of difference, distance, and absence, when we write" (My 13). And it is this distance which is also found in the scripto-visual notation of a stutter, a hesitation, a stammer--that which falls outside the laws of speech and of writing into the realm of the visual.
Kathleen Fraser's influential essay "Translating the Unspeakable: Visual Poetics, as Projected through Olson's 'Field' into Current Female Writing Practice" argues that a number of women writers (Myung Mi Kim, Hannah Weiner, Laura Moriarty, Susan Howe and Barbara Guest) adopted Charles Olson's visual use of the page, its "spatial, historical and ethical margins" (644), to configure an alternative feminine writing practice. As Fraser points out, Olson offered an alternative to "the narcissistically probing, psychological defining of self" typified in the work of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. Olson's visual and typographical experiments seemed to coincide with their "scepticism towards any fixed rhetoric" (644). Fraser saw in Olson someone who resisted the "prescription of authorship as an exclusively unitary proposition" (644). According to Fraser, Olson offered contemporary women writers "another kind of use value" for language, one that allowed for a more complex subjectivity that might be able to incorporate the inconsistencies of temorality; "its continuous broken surfaces, its day-by-day graphs of interruption and careening" (644).
Like Olsen, Howe is drawn to the visual notation of a stutter. At first sight it would appear that the two of them have much in common. The conception of the page as a visual field connects Howe to Olsen's poetics as he describes them in "Projective Verse." Howe clearly admires Olsen for his visual use of the page:
At his best, Olsen lets words and groups of words, even letter arrangements and spelling accidents shoot suggestions at each other, as if the page were a canvas and the motion of words--reality across surface. Optical effects, seemingly chance encounters of letters, are a BRIDGE. Through a screen of juxtapositions one dynamic image may be visible. ("Where" 6)
For Olson, the field of the page consists of "OBJECTS", syllables, lines, images and sounds in relation to one another. Following Robert Creely, Olson asserts "FORM IS NEVER MORE THAN AN EXTENSION OF CONTENT," i.e. the logic of the poem to dictate its rules (Selected 16). This synthesis of form and content emphasises the importance of process in generating meaning. Olson further links the poem's processual character to the breath. The line on the page is to be governed by the direct relationship between the ear and the breath:
But breath is man's special qualification as animal. Sound is a dimension he has extended. Language is one of his proudest acts. And when a poet rests in these as they are in himself (in his physiology, if you like, but the life in him, for all than) then he chooses to speak from these roots, works in that area where nature has given him size, projective size. (25)
In Olson the stutter is also connected to his stress on the syllable which he describes as "these particles of sound" whose juxtaposition is as important as "the series of the words which they compose" (18). Olson connects the visual look of the poem on the page directly to the body itself. His model for the ideal line is the male body at the peak of its physique, as it "gives voice." Similarly, he clearly connects the visual potential of the page and the mark-making capabilities of the type-writer to the acoustic pauses of the breath:
If a contemporary poet leaves a space as long as the phrase before it, he means that space to be held, by the breath, an equal length of time. If he suspends a word or syllable at the ends of a line (this was most Cummings' addition) he means that time to pass that it takes the eye--that hair of time suspended--to pick up the next line. If he wishes a pause so light it hardly separates the words, yet does not want a comma--which is an interruption of the meaning rather than the sounding of the line--follow him when he uses a symbol the type-writer has ready to hand:
'What does not change / is the will to change' (Selected 23)
It is these visual "interuptions" on the page, this series of stutters between meanings, which suggest a link between Olson's and Howe's scripto-visual practice.
In any interview with Cole Swenson, Howe describes the "immediate shock of recognition" that she felt on encountering Olson's work: "It was his voracious need to gather "facts", to find something, a quotation, a place, a name, a date, some documentary evidence in regard to place" (381). Like Olson, Howe is concerned with the marking and bounding of territory, the representation of the self in an already inhabited landscape. However, there are clearly distinct gender problems with making too close an identification between Howe and Olson. Howe maintains that Olson's writing is "for a woman, an indeterminate, sometimes graphically violent force" ("Charles" 168):
I am a poet. I know Charles Olson's writing encouraged me to be a radical poet. When I was writing my first poems I recall he showed me what to do. Had he been my teacher in real life, I know he would have stopped my voice. ("Charles" 166) Furthermore, her work suggests a different relationship to the visual in relation to history and to the voice to that found in Olson because of her attention to the articulation, reframing, and representation of the feminine subject.
Duchamp's The Green Box (from which Howe takes her epigraph to Hinge Picture) consists of notes for his major work The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Batchelors Even. Duchamp gave the piece the subtitle "Delay in Glass" (26):
Use "delay" instead of picture or painting on glass becomes in glass--but delay in glass does not mean picture on glass--It's merely a way of succeeding in no longer thinking that the thing in question is a picture--to make a delay of it in the most general way possible, not so much in the different meanings in which delay can be taken, but reather in their indecisive reunion "delay"-- / a delay in glass as you would say a poem in prose or a spittoon in silver. (26)
The materiality of the work is part of its meaning. Howe has made it clear just how central this art object is to her: "It would take a book for me to go on about what The Large Glass means to me...It is so two-sided. Synthesis, antithesis, reflection and delay" ("Dialogue" 286). A delay in glass is directly comparable to Howe's stutter because it is a hesitation in words that emphasises the difference between phonemes and morphemes, a space that emphasises the materiality of utterance itself. To think of the poem as occupying a space akin to a delay in glass gives Howe a position from which to criticise conventional representational structures. In The Western Borders (1976), she writes, "Enchantment like lies can alter the sight of the beholder / but not the reality of the thing seen" (n.p.) Howe's texts resist the enchantment of conventional modes of representation, modes which attempt to construct a direct link between language and the world that it purports to represent. Just as Duchamp's "Delay in Glass" call attention to its own materiality by suggesting that the large glass does not refer to something outside itself ("no longer thinking that the thing in question is a picture"), Howe's stutter calls attention to the materiality of language, thereby calling into question language's capacity to represent a referent. In effect the visually notated stutter in Howe's text offers a critique of the natural voice as the bearer of truth.
In this sense of stuttering voices and practices that seem to face certain obscurity which continually inderlies Howe's work. Her desire to invest time in "a writing practice that seems unacceptable" ("Dialogue" 380) is confirmed by her interest in Emily Dickinson. Over her life-time, Dickinson produced a series of hand-written poems in small sewn packets. These were subsequently torn apart by editors and converted into type-written approximations of their originals. Early editions of Dickinson's work superimposed a standardised punctuation onto the texts and reordered the fascicles according to themes chosen by the editors themselves, who also dismissed the multiple variants of both the texts and the individual lines within poems. For Howe, the recovery of Dickinson depends on a recovery of these verbal and visual elements from the original texts. This is obviously a difficult task. Howe reads Dickinson's poems as if they were delays in paper, moments of spaces of suspended communication that are dependent on their material manifestation (handwriting on paper) for their effect. Mistrustful of previous editorial strategies, Howe asks "Can quick particularities of calligraphic expression ever be converted to type?" (Birth 4). She struggles to reclaim a writing practice which resists the standardisation of canonical norms and so is threatened with loss and erasure.
Howe describes the way in which Dickinson created her own hybrid discourse from "higher' female education" and combined it with what was termed "unladylike" outside reading:
Pulling pieces of geometry, geology, alchemy, philosophy, politics, biography, biology, mythology, and philosophy from alien territory, a 'sheltered' woman audaciously invented a new grammar grounded in humility and hestiation. (My 21)
It is this moment of hesitation that is according to Howe gendered: "He may pause but he must not hesitate" she quotes from Ruskin (21-22). The stutter is an acoustic or phonic moment of hesitation, but it is also for Howe a kind of visual mark. Like the stutter, the visual mark (when "read" as language) falls outside the recoverable space of meaning, it does not seem to stand for anything beyond itself. Howe highlights this connection in her discussion of Hawthorne's story "The Birth-Mark", from which her own book of essays takes its name:
One day, very soon after their marriage, Alymer sat gazing at his wife, with a trouble in his countenance that grew stronger, until he spoke.
"Georgina," said he, "has it ever occurred to you that the mark upon your cheek might be removed?"
"No, indeed," said she, smiling; but perceiving the seriousness of his manner, she blushed deeply. "To tell you the truth, it has been so often called a charm, that I was simple enough to imagine it might be so."
"Ah, upon another face, perhaps it might," replied her husband. "But never on yours! No, dearest Georgina, you came so nearly perfect from the hand of Nature, that his slightest possible defect--which we hesitate whether to term a defect or beauty--shocks me, as being the visible mark of earthly imperfection. (Hawthorne qtd. in My 7)
The husband's wish to edit the face of his wife parallels the relationship of editorial control and censure that Howe seeks to address in her critical work on Dickinson. Howe challenges a tradition of editorial scholarship which has repeatedly removed and expunged the visual marking of Dickinson's texts, precisely because their characteristic features were not apparently assimilable into the recognizable orders of what could be read as language. For Howe this issue of editorial control is certainly "a gender issue" (Keller 33)
He might pause, She hesitated. Sexual, racial, and geographical separation are at the heart of Definition. Tragic and eternal dichotomy--if we concern ourselves with the deepest Reality, is this world of the imagination the same for men and women? (My 21-22)
As this passage suggests, Howe's stance toward the reclamation of a hybrid scripto-visual practice has profound implications for the feminine writing subject. Howe begins her book, My Emily Dickinson, by asserting that she will contradict her own epigraph from William Carlos Williams:
It is the women above all-there never have been women, save pioneer Katies; not one flower save some moonflower Poe may have seen, or an unripe child. Poets? Where? They are the test. But a true woman in flower, never. Emily Dickinson, starving of passion in her father's garden, is the very nearest we have ever been--starving.
Never a woman: never a poet. That's axiom. Never a poet saw sun here. (Williams qtd. in My 6)
At the same time, Howe makes it quite clear that "A poet is never just a woman or a man" (7): "We are all both genders. There is nothing more boring than stridently male poetry and stridently female poetry" (Birth 172). Gender effects language, but this is not the whole story: "we constantly confront issues of difference, distance, and absence, when we write" (My 13). And it is this distance which is also found in the scripto-visual notation of a stutter, a hesitation, a stammer--that which falls outside the laws of speech and of writing into the realm of the visual.
Kathleen Fraser's influential essay "Translating the Unspeakable: Visual Poetics, as Projected through Olson's 'Field' into Current Female Writing Practice" argues that a number of women writers (Myung Mi Kim, Hannah Weiner, Laura Moriarty, Susan Howe and Barbara Guest) adopted Charles Olson's visual use of the page, its "spatial, historical and ethical margins" (644), to configure an alternative feminine writing practice. As Fraser points out, Olson offered an alternative to "the narcissistically probing, psychological defining of self" typified in the work of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. Olson's visual and typographical experiments seemed to coincide with their "scepticism towards any fixed rhetoric" (644). Fraser saw in Olson someone who resisted the "prescription of authorship as an exclusively unitary proposition" (644). According to Fraser, Olson offered contemporary women writers "another kind of use value" for language, one that allowed for a more complex subjectivity that might be able to incorporate the inconsistencies of temorality; "its continuous broken surfaces, its day-by-day graphs of interruption and careening" (644).
Like Olsen, Howe is drawn to the visual notation of a stutter. At first sight it would appear that the two of them have much in common. The conception of the page as a visual field connects Howe to Olsen's poetics as he describes them in "Projective Verse." Howe clearly admires Olsen for his visual use of the page:
At his best, Olsen lets words and groups of words, even letter arrangements and spelling accidents shoot suggestions at each other, as if the page were a canvas and the motion of words--reality across surface. Optical effects, seemingly chance encounters of letters, are a BRIDGE. Through a screen of juxtapositions one dynamic image may be visible. ("Where" 6)
For Olson, the field of the page consists of "OBJECTS", syllables, lines, images and sounds in relation to one another. Following Robert Creely, Olson asserts "FORM IS NEVER MORE THAN AN EXTENSION OF CONTENT," i.e. the logic of the poem to dictate its rules (Selected 16). This synthesis of form and content emphasises the importance of process in generating meaning. Olson further links the poem's processual character to the breath. The line on the page is to be governed by the direct relationship between the ear and the breath:
But breath is man's special qualification as animal. Sound is a dimension he has extended. Language is one of his proudest acts. And when a poet rests in these as they are in himself (in his physiology, if you like, but the life in him, for all than) then he chooses to speak from these roots, works in that area where nature has given him size, projective size. (25)
In Olson the stutter is also connected to his stress on the syllable which he describes as "these particles of sound" whose juxtaposition is as important as "the series of the words which they compose" (18). Olson connects the visual look of the poem on the page directly to the body itself. His model for the ideal line is the male body at the peak of its physique, as it "gives voice." Similarly, he clearly connects the visual potential of the page and the mark-making capabilities of the type-writer to the acoustic pauses of the breath:
If a contemporary poet leaves a space as long as the phrase before it, he means that space to be held, by the breath, an equal length of time. If he suspends a word or syllable at the ends of a line (this was most Cummings' addition) he means that time to pass that it takes the eye--that hair of time suspended--to pick up the next line. If he wishes a pause so light it hardly separates the words, yet does not want a comma--which is an interruption of the meaning rather than the sounding of the line--follow him when he uses a symbol the type-writer has ready to hand:
'What does not change / is the will to change' (Selected 23)
It is these visual "interuptions" on the page, this series of stutters between meanings, which suggest a link between Olson's and Howe's scripto-visual practice.
In any interview with Cole Swenson, Howe describes the "immediate shock of recognition" that she felt on encountering Olson's work: "It was his voracious need to gather "facts", to find something, a quotation, a place, a name, a date, some documentary evidence in regard to place" (381). Like Olson, Howe is concerned with the marking and bounding of territory, the representation of the self in an already inhabited landscape. However, there are clearly distinct gender problems with making too close an identification between Howe and Olson. Howe maintains that Olson's writing is "for a woman, an indeterminate, sometimes graphically violent force" ("Charles" 168):
I am a poet. I know Charles Olson's writing encouraged me to be a radical poet. When I was writing my first poems I recall he showed me what to do. Had he been my teacher in real life, I know he would have stopped my voice. ("Charles" 166) Furthermore, her work suggests a different relationship to the visual in relation to history and to the voice to that found in Olson because of her attention to the articulation, reframing, and representation of the feminine subject.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
By Jared Hayes...HA!
Bob:
Play that plinkety Plinko Pirate Patrick!
Patrick playing Plinko for pirate’s booty!
Patrick, do you have a pet parrot?
Pirate Patrick I do believe…you’ve plinkety
plinkoed your way to a fine …FINE (wink, handshake) booty!
[PIRATE PATRICK] playing plinko
plinkety.plink.plink.plink.parrot.pet.pet.pirate.Patrick.plink.
Patrick.plinko.plinkety.parrot.plink.plinkety.pirate.plinkety.
parrot.pet.pie.plink.pink.parrot.pie.pie.pirate.plinkety.plink.
plink.plinko.plinkplink.plinkety.Patrick.plinkety.plink.plink.
plinko.parrot.plink.plink.pirate.plinko.plink.plink.plinkety.
plinko.Patrick.plink.plink.plinkety.plinko.Patrick.plinkety.
plinkety.plinko.pirate.plink.plink.parrotpet.plinko.plinkety.
plink.plink.plinko.petparrot.Patrick.plink.plink.plinkoplink.
pirate.pirate.Patrick.Patrick.plinkety.plinkety.plinko.plinko.
par.par.plink.parrot.pirate.plink.plink.plinkety.plinko.plink.
pie.pie.plink.parrot.pet.pie.pie.plinkety.plink.plink.plinkety.
plink.plink.pirate.Patrick.plinkety.pie.plinko.plinko.plinko.
Play that plinkety Plinko Pirate Patrick!
Patrick playing Plinko for pirate’s booty!
Patrick, do you have a pet parrot?
Pirate Patrick I do believe…you’ve plinkety
plinkoed your way to a fine …FINE (wink, handshake) booty!
[PIRATE PATRICK] playing plinko
plinkety.plink.plink.plink.parrot.pet.pet.pirate.Patrick.plink.
Patrick.plinko.plinkety.parrot.plink.plinkety.pirate.plinkety.
parrot.pet.pie.plink.pink.parrot.pie.pie.pirate.plinkety.plink.
plink.plinko.plinkplink.plinkety.Patrick.plinkety.plink.plink.
plinko.parrot.plink.plink.pirate.plinko.plink.plink.plinkety.
plinko.Patrick.plink.plink.plinkety.plinko.Patrick.plinkety.
plinkety.plinko.pirate.plink.plink.parrotpet.plinko.plinkety.
plink.plink.plinko.petparrot.Patrick.plink.plink.plinkoplink.
pirate.pirate.Patrick.Patrick.plinkety.plinkety.plinko.plinko.
par.par.plink.parrot.pirate.plink.plink.plinkety.plinko.plink.
pie.pie.plink.parrot.pet.pie.pie.plinkety.plink.plink.plinkety.
plink.plink.pirate.Patrick.plinkety.pie.plinko.plinko.plinko.
Monday, March 08, 2010
ANNOUNCEMENT from The Offending Adam
Announcing Issue 006 from The Offending Adam (http://www.theoffendingadam.com/). Issue 006 features a serialized poem from Andrew K. Peterson, spread out from Part I on Monday through Part IV on Thursday. Come back each day and don't miss a single installment.
.
While you're around, if you missed our previous issues, don't worry. All of our contributions remain archived and accessible on our site, including:
005: Schlesinger & Archambeau
004: Lemon & Bendall & O’Brien
003: Hicok & Schaberg & Yakich
002: Steensen & Long
001: Beachy-Quick & Reddy & Stobb & Sweeney & Clark
.
We are also excited to announce our forthcoming first limited edition chapbook, Canto. We are offering a special pre-order rate of $8 ($2 off the list price) + $2 shipping and handling. Get a preview of the first three cantos in the book (http://www.theoffendingadam.com/2010/02/01/from-canto). Learn more about the chapbook, and check out the cover art by Shawn Stucky, in our bookstore (http://www.theoffendingadam.com/store/).
.
Currently we are reading submissions for new writing, essays, book reviews, and feature projects. We will be reading between now and April 15, so get us your work soon! You can review our submissions guidelines at http://www.theoffendingadam.com/submit/ So we invite you to drop by this week to http://www.theoffendingadam.com/ as Issue 006 arrives.
.
Bookmark or add us to your reader so that you don't miss a single issue of content. And of course, we encourage you to pass the word of the launch along by passing along this message to anyone you think would be interested or post a note on facebook or a blog.
.
If you have any questions, comments, or concerns or if you want to contact us for any reason, please email us at editors@theoffendingadam.com.
.
The editors of The Offending Adam
Andrew Wessels
Cody Todd
Nik De Dominic
Ryan Winet
.
While you're around, if you missed our previous issues, don't worry. All of our contributions remain archived and accessible on our site, including:
005: Schlesinger & Archambeau
004: Lemon & Bendall & O’Brien
003: Hicok & Schaberg & Yakich
002: Steensen & Long
001: Beachy-Quick & Reddy & Stobb & Sweeney & Clark
.
We are also excited to announce our forthcoming first limited edition chapbook, Canto. We are offering a special pre-order rate of $8 ($2 off the list price) + $2 shipping and handling. Get a preview of the first three cantos in the book (http://www.theoffendingadam.com/2010/02/01/from-canto). Learn more about the chapbook, and check out the cover art by Shawn Stucky, in our bookstore (http://www.theoffendingadam.com/store/).
.
Currently we are reading submissions for new writing, essays, book reviews, and feature projects. We will be reading between now and April 15, so get us your work soon! You can review our submissions guidelines at http://www.theoffendingadam.com/submit/ So we invite you to drop by this week to http://www.theoffendingadam.com/ as Issue 006 arrives.
.
Bookmark or add us to your reader so that you don't miss a single issue of content. And of course, we encourage you to pass the word of the launch along by passing along this message to anyone you think would be interested or post a note on facebook or a blog.
.
If you have any questions, comments, or concerns or if you want to contact us for any reason, please email us at editors@theoffendingadam.com.
.
The editors of The Offending Adam
Andrew Wessels
Cody Todd
Nik De Dominic
Ryan Winet
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Monday, February 08, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Coming Soon from BlazeVox Books!
.Museum of Thrown Objects
Poems by Andrew K. Peterson
Published by BlazeVox Books 2010
Poems by Andrew K. Peterson
Published by BlazeVox Books 2010
ISBN-13: 9781935402848
.
Please stay tuned to the Barnyard for ordering information, blurbs from some of your favorites, and perhaps a mini-essay review from Jared Hayes!? In the meantime, enjoy the wonderful cover art by a great Atlanta-area artist Dayna Thacker (above), and (below), the amusingly serious response by the printers to the "erasure issue" of the cover's name/title designed by BlazeVox Editor Geoffrey Gatza and myself. (We hope not the last provocation this book incites. In a friendly peaceful way, of course.)
.
Thanks, and see you soon!
Love, Andy
.
.
.
Hello Geoffrey,
.
Prepress and the Production team has paused this title in system pending a revised cover due to the design element over the title and author name. I realize you advised the element is intentional and I communicated accordingly to Prepress. Since that time, the cover file has been reviewed by both the Prepress Manager and Production Manager. The finding is the cover will fail production when printing as previously advised in the file review notes (copied below again for reference), therefore we are unable to move forward with the current cover file..
We will need to ask you to provide a revised cover file with the "erased" design element removed, or we can have our graphics team revised (sic) the cover, if this would be helpful. Attached is low res cover file as for reference of the requested change for your review..
File Review Notes:"We have reviewed the files submitted for this title and there is one concern that needs to be addressed before we can move forward. The title on the front cover is difficult to read and could appear to be a production error when printing. Please upload a revised file ensuring that the title is easily read. Thank you for your understanding. Please upload a revised cover file for further review. "
.
I apologize for the inconvenience this may cause as a result of this development.Thank you for your continued patience and cooperation.
XXX
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Save the Date: Cooper and Cebula Next Saturday in Denver
Dear Reader-
.
This is just a reminder for everyone in the Denver area that Fact-Simile will present our first reading of 2010 at The Dikeou Collection next Saturday.
.
Come on out and celebrate the release of Fact-Simile Editions' Equinox Chapbook series with readings by Joseph Cooper and Travis Cebula.
.
In addition to hearing some great poetry you will also receive considerable discounts on all of our titles.
.
So save the date:
Saturday, January 9th, 2010
@ The Dikeou Collection
1615 California Street, Suite 515
Denver, CO 80202
.
We hope to see you there!
.
Sincerely,
Travis Macdonald & JenMarie Davis
The Editors @ Fact-Simile Editions
http://fact-simile.com/
.
This is just a reminder for everyone in the Denver area that Fact-Simile will present our first reading of 2010 at The Dikeou Collection next Saturday.
.
Come on out and celebrate the release of Fact-Simile Editions' Equinox Chapbook series with readings by Joseph Cooper and Travis Cebula.
.
In addition to hearing some great poetry you will also receive considerable discounts on all of our titles.
.
So save the date:
Saturday, January 9th, 2010
@ The Dikeou Collection
1615 California Street, Suite 515
Denver, CO 80202
.
We hope to see you there!
.
Sincerely,
Travis Macdonald & JenMarie Davis
The Editors @ Fact-Simile Editions
http://fact-simile.com/
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
cooper and hayes
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Hayes and Cooper
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
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
I had to "repost" these photos - from John Sakkis' Facebook post
Too much!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/77948983@N00/sets/1084499/show/
Too much!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/77948983@N00/sets/1084499/show/
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Authenticity Made The Tourists Weep...for and after akp
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
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
AWP Denver 2010
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!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving Goons!!
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)
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