This is the sixth issue of
a pamphlet devotedto Visual poetry, Concrete poetry, abstract draws,Leerism, Experimental poetry, Asemic poetry, orthodoxpoetry, altered texts, prose, collages… and anything elseI might feel like enclosing in an unsuspected future.
is an anagram of “Barcelona,” the citywhere I live (survive). It means “dog from the north.”“Dog” is anagram of “God.” There is no God, but plentyof stray dogs. Or so is what I think.Dogs are poec. Men are poec. Life, in general, is poec.Tragically. Art is a way to kill me. A sort of prevenvemurder, if you want, as me will take its revenge upon usand we will not leave this planet alive.Poetry shows a desperate aachment to life. A lovefor life. So, killing me while making poetry (or “art” ingeneral) is one of those things rather diﬃ cult to explainin a raonal way. From a distance, it might appear tobe like the howling of the wolves to the full moon. Onecould say: “Stop howling and enjoy life!” But, I guess it isnot that simple.This issue is a trident, trio, threesome (…you name it)with The Blaster, Darlene Altschul and myself.For the eding of this issue, I counted on the invaluablehelp of Darlene Altschul (USA).I hope that every recipient of this issue will enjoy thereading. John MountainAugust 2009