Veer About 2010-2011

Veer Journal 3

ISSN 2046-3529

Veer Books 2011

2006

Veer 037

Published by Veer Books, London, in conjunction with Intercapillary Space (http://intercapillaryspace.blogspot.com/) in February 2011. Copyright and all other rights remain with the individual authors/artists.

Veer About
ISSN 2046-3529 Many thanks to the authors for their contributions to this journal, Edited by Adrian Clarke and William Rowe. Cover art by Jenniifer Pike Cobbing, from The Conglomerization of Wot
(Veer, 2011)

Veer Books would like to acknowledge the support of the Contemporary Poetics Research Centre (CPRC) Birkbeck, and the School of English and Humanities, Birkbeck College, University of London. For Veer Books ordering or other enquiries please contact: Professor William Rowe, Dept of English and Humanities, School of Arts, Birkbeck College, 43 Gordon Sqr, London WC1H 0PD, or by phone on 020 76316143. Alternatively you can email Veer Books at veerbooks@gmail.com

Veer Books website: http://www.bbk.ac.uk/cprc/publications/veer-books

Veer About 2010-2011

Cover Image, from The Conglomerization of Wot (Veer Books, 2011), Jennifer Pike Cobbing Scott Thurston, Sustainability Karen Mac Cormack, quantum vis (q.v.), ascititious David Caddy, Signalled As Ox Tongue, Scattered Tongue, Rank, When the Redstart Arrives. Gavin Selerie, from Hariot Double John Cayley, Zero-Count Stitcher 134578 David Miller, from a sequence of Visual Sonnets Maggie OSullivan, from Murmur Harry Gilonis, Paul Celans Stretto Chris Paul, Activism praxis-form and the ecstatic Matthew Martin, Wow and flutter James Harvey, Ants, After Barnett Newman Antony John, Three poems Doug Jones, Wives of Thorpe; biochem, Some people are starving Steve McCaffery, The Antikythera Mechanism, Magical History, Falstaffs Otter, Caliban Globalized Nat Raha, Sonnet, to traverse (part-preface), sault Wayne Clements, Perish Steve Willey, Neptune tongue ode 3, Slogans Mike Weller, Shuttered Martin Gubbins, Safety instructions Sean Bonney, After Rimbaud, Images from a notebook Pansy Maurer-Alvarez, The Distance Between Our Continents, What we resemble

Richard Owens, Six Ballads Gregorio Fontn, Poema del fro. Click on fern on first page for audio file. Steve Fowler, (on the difference between striking man & woman), (the situation in the Middle-East has put pressure on my relationship), (I am a charter member of the Viking Sparrows), (notes from the desk drawer) Johan de Wit, June, Tegwen, Gwent, Keme Frances Presley, Alphabet poems Rod Mengham, Engineering works, Ad nauseam, Repeat this Becky Cremin, a positional monologue Justin Katko, The Superior City Song; A Fragment Elizabeth Jane Burnett, flamingo, peep/parakeet Stephen Mooney, from the Lovecraft and the Jenny Cobbing Greg Thomas, cramond island blastula Mendoza, Northumberland Poems Rob Holloway, Mortmain John Seed, Untitled Jimmy Cummins, when there is only one thing left Allen Fisher, 3 human poems Niamh OMahony, What is always Keith Jebb, from like hypnotizing chickens Carol Watts, from Found China/Oracle Bone: Rope, Poem 2, Found China 2, Bladderwrack, Poem 5, Found China 5 Rosa van Hensbergen, The Moths Aodn McCardle, scatter hold middle now Peter Philpott, from Ianthes Poems. Tom White, from My Camp

Philip Terry, Inferno Canto VI Gilbert Adair, syzem: a formal translation of Blake's Milton Ryan Ormonde, Overleaf Edmund Hardy, Sentences Juha Virtanen, RE-SHUFFLE/RECYCLE/WASTE

Scott Thurston

SUSTAINABILITY

2. Compassion

***

Huge decayed inner forms processing undergrowth. Inflections in the key of flowing objectifying a conflict what is past character is not lost as self is form, future expression enacts it right here. On a pilgrimage we convey ourselves through action into a vision quest movement both creates the surface and calls up stillness, thick with object use. The Sun behind you or the Sun in front of you. The word was the dream let go or the dream inverted by itself lyrical shapeshifting for

sustainability. A series of negotiated organisational losses become easier to bear, to give to reality. Gathering impressions into one area of psychic life there is no path. Chop me up, demand representation: its necessity, its pleasure. Forget to think of feeling, debouch into the nucleus. The expanse of water before us to the west, a mixed sequential temporality occurring at the same moment in time. Accept the place in which I was either the cloud or the mountain.

***

The term had been reached. Psychic structure: the Scandinavian Cosmic Tree, the vanished Golden House. What constitutes wildness, the Napoleonic Arms? Hearsay binding both the preserved and the destroyed, whilst resistance is experienced as

pain the memory of the gasometer needing to change all the time. Performing everyday tasks with intention what drives the wreckers? From the place where one stands on ones chest liberation from attachment following the logic of the dance gods will under renovation reverberation ego solicits attention near a play space within a death zone. Will I or wont I? The image traverses us abyssal, right hand side, spirit holding environment in a period of hesitation. Nothing left for judgement. City living got tired of the hard test dying voice of the built creativity whose solitude closed holy doors. Need for nameless forms devoted to spirit.

***

Vertical slit of light dark edge visible my own ending is in sight. Red girder to the right of the decks from one generation to the next. Are we to sacrifice ourselves to each other? Signs of death. Looking into oneself, looking outwards, this self no more than shit into gold. Shoot / dont shoot the messenger. In the body of a citys form, an inner controlled zone. Differences between areas of meaning, taking your place to serve in your own way. Shafts of interest: we are all the same.

***

People go out to gather more experiences that will help them tell good stories we need contact with actual objects and we need lived experience. What was for me, what shared, thinking with the real. Originals dont fit, carrying the weight of it down. Unify your soul, bear the marks of life. Movement turning the spiritual into physical reality, forces us to look and look again.

Reconciliation and transgression needing the poem to release a self into expression.

*** In the urge to fashion a life know your own history, treat yourself with respect. Use poems in order to think. The cadence of the fight implicitly recalls the experience of the poem at the time. Trees one by one surrendering themselves, giving themselves up gloriously to burst into flame. Poems structure inner experience: look, but dont let me know you are looking. Poems use us. Landscapes transform you. Experiencing the poem is a form of t hinking in the shallow lea of selfestrangement. Life now considered as a poem, just write about another period of it. Thinking through poems, strong in your craft. Encountering unexpected disjunctive simultaneity. The necessity of immediate engagement with poetry: the body bending right flat down on a table, consciousness at a minimum, so movement is accelerated. Lack of reflection, lack of resistance, to get anything out of poetry.

*** Modern songs climb out of yourself.

Voice-knot knit, emit

Order the world, follow it into

a quaking book

***

In Toxteth, lyrical really read as hybrid reality, fascinated by the binary also the simultaneity. Trust. Either the poem determines us or we select it. Being present in writing is a way of being present when we ourselves become poetry. Please help save me, process conflict with ruthless creativity. I am frightened of knowing, I am frightened of not knowing. Youd believe it if he said it a resistant member of a family Im trying to create. Earth there to hold my feet, gas released by pressure relief valves being burnt off at the refinery. The poem knows that it will die.

***

Staying beyond beyond your world resignation accepts dereliction of duty

*** Youll be home in a blink but leaving is just as quick is this safer than having kids? Passive labour trying to heal, suspend judgement as you pass into the phase of measure and countermeasure. The obscure, the active self inside a social group, family not the only assembly. Journey through stupidity, then inside humanity, tentatively. Dont make work your family.

The violence that the new day demands compassion the only way out in current memory of mass death sleep reading. It is not too late for you to perceive language directly.

*** why cant I seek to add test notions invisible to disregard?

***

To pick up on the shape of change, structured by proportions between what exists. A single silent star in the image chain last night more consciously intervening. No memory of the day we moved, what happened to prompt our leaving. Made a false step like we were in a house; obliterated whatever was left of the final movement. Public appeals for the fourth object like shadows on a screen of trees. My tree was the tree outside: rooted but expansive. A straight reproduction of article in heat from SIGNS to VICE compassionate solutions to change in time, an emotional drama out of an incident set.

Cold of leaving early for school, or on a trip; cold of the night. Our irresponsible duty to co-create one another generously reaching the lines of a face where thought is reversed. Poetry celebrating only that which cannot be sustained; a prevision of morning.

ascititious

(in response to Adrian Clarkes Eurochants)

Karen Mac Cormack

shred index to infringement call said close in even at or again so making count circumstantial in stroke for one that ranking if given across citation luculent touches option

DavidCaddy SignalledAsOxtongue Aspricklyascowstongue,borage, Apollinaire,apollinatingbeebread, hairybarrach,toallocatecourage. Tomovefrommattedhairloss, unkemptbeardtostiffsilentthistletype, chosentoingratiate,augment,isolate. Ihaventspokentoanyonefordays. Istandrootedwithhandsthatstingandare sorefromthetranslationofofficialdom. Iwanttoestablishthevolumeofavolume. Iwanttowriteandspeakandentirely differentandopportunisticlanguage. ThelanguageofthebristlingOxtongue thatknowsnoboundsbytheroadside orinyourgrandmothersgarden.

 ScatteredTongue Scatteredtongueisyourstoeat scraping tarnish please, layhandsonall laudandcurbmeonce,twice. Youarenotmybees fromendtoendyouarenotmySunday. Tocollect,walkthosesubtlerooms outofhere. Tosin, keepongoing.

 Rank Rankbyditchesinwoodland, creepingshoots,closeranked, surmountedbyracemesofrosy. Ttttaping.Ttttapping. Everywheretheyareshootingpheasants. Guns,guns,guns,gunseverywhere. Iwanttobeelsewhere,elsewhere. Alrightthere,youngr. Canthearmuch. Dontknowmuchwhenyouareaweed. Ttttapping.Ttttapping. Dadandtheladsusedtopickconkersforpennies. Usedtopicklethem.pickrosehipsforsyrup. Noonehedgestheirbetsorbifurcates. Alrightthere,youngr. CanhearCecilandCyrildownstream. Codlinsandcream,small,square,marsh. Ttttapping.Ttttapping. Mutteringswhisperssniggers. Abovethewillowherb, abovethecoltsfoot. Ttttapping.Ttttapping.

 WhenTheRedstartArrives forjk Whentheredstartarrives Isaygoodbyetotheheron bytheforkandstarttoshiver asifthefluwereatimeslip ratherthanarecognition asifIcoulddrinkless andstillpossessthisslimming designonmynervesandrise toputawaythosepailsof spiltmilkthatcourselikelurchers withtheirtailsbetweentheirlegs betwixtandbetweenkeepersnfinders andstillhavetimetotakeback thebaconorreconsiderthefateofthose unawareitisnight.Anditisnight whentherearenolightstoputout norferaledgingonlythisplumpbird thathascometotap,tapandbob. Ilookatthisstartundercandlelight andswearithasaluminousbeak blackseedyeyesandcurseitwill drinkmeunderthetableorbeturned intoapirate.Ithrowcornatthismigrant andconsiderflight.Oh,no,no.Comeback. Ivegotmore.Looknoabsolutes,conkers, insecticides,ourmutualtrack,voracity. Wouldsoonerchiselandturnmyhand, gouge,everytwisttenuous,andavoidtheice.

Gavin Selerie from Hariot Double Part III Corpse candle I will & bequeath unto the Earle One woodden Boxe full or neere full of drawne Mappes standing nowe at the Northeast windowe of that Roome wch is Called the parlor of my house in Syon. I give unto the aforesaid Earle my two pspective trunckes wherewth I use espeatially to see Venus horned like the Moone and the Spotts in the Sonne. I give unto my servaunte Christopher Tooke the residue of my Cases of pspective trunckes wth the other glasses of his owne making (excepting two great longe trunckes Consisting of many partes wch I give unto the said Earle of Northumberland to remayne in his Library for such uses as they may be put unto). Concerninge my debts, I doe acknowledg that at this psente I owe moneyes to Monseir Mayornes a Potycarie, to my Brewer dwelling at Braynford end & to Mr John Bill Staconer for Bookes. I ordayne and Constitute Nathaniell Thorperley first to be Overseer of my Mathematicall Writinges to be received of my Executors to peruse and order and to separate the Cheife of them from my waste papers, to the end that after hee doth understande them hee may make use in penninge such doctrine that belonges unto them for publique uses. Item: divers waste papers (of wch some are in a Canvas bagge) of my Accompts to Sr Walter Rawley

for all wch I have discharges or acquitances Lying in some boxes or other my desire is that they may bee all burnte. Alsoe there is an other Canvas bagge of papers concerning Irishe Accompts (the psons whome they Concerne are dead many yeares since in the raigne of queene Elizabeth) wch I desire alsoe may be burnte as likewise many Idle paps & Cancelled Deedes wch are good for noe use.

Ozaena No cure for this grief. Inject water and lay to the sores either double clouts or lint moystned in this water as you shall think fit morning and evening. Shun all meats which are of an hard concoction or afford a corrupt and evill juyce. Like those Indians which are sober in their eatinge and trinkinge and doe not oppress nature by unseasonable banketts. A dream of navigation. Great spouts as though heaven and earth should meet. A silent scream as Cardes, Bookes, writings the sailors cast over boord. Old venturers hang together, Thomas with Thomas. Past all stains of travel, learning has a body absolute. Threadneedle street: Buckners house, sea-marke of utmost saile. A gleam of wrestling fire sinks out of sight, retreats to the chancell Quire, St Christopher le Stock.

Runagate No Star-chamber but a great blasing-star the only subject almost of discourse. An angry star, reddish with a long tail and ever there. A letter such as none can translate. Keepe rash imaginations till you sleepe. Queen Anne still at Denmark House awaits burial. Billiard balls, how they roll and collide. Lord Percys passion. As below, so above. Notes fleshed on reflexion of bodies, dash and pull in a diagram. Motions compounded. Who understands this is master of other cases and the whole. Solution and results. The logic can wait.

Command performance What closest friend comes back in chains. No gold, no son. It is thought Sir Walter shall pay this new reckoning upon the old score. .... Two fits of an agew. Thankes to god. of calling god to witness. note/That He speake justly & truely. Touchinge his that 1). Concerning his loyalty to the King 2). of slanderous speeches touching his maty. r 6). S L. St[ukely]: A letter on London hy way. 10,000li no such proffer 7). Mine of Guiana. 8). Came back by constreynt. 10). Company used ill in the voyadge. 11). Spotting of his face & conterfetting sicknes 12). The E. of Essex. Come not to feare or flatter now ye subject of Death. Lastly. he desired the company to joine with him in prayer. &c. Some found fault that his face was west-ward and wold have his turned whereupon rising he saide yt was no matter which way a mans head stoode so his heart lay right. Two blowes to sever what is kept for his lady in a red velvet [leather?] bagg.

Succotash A man melancholy. In years about sixty. First brought the use of that Virginia smoke. An ulcer in the left nostril eats up the septum of his nose, holds the lips hard and turned upwards. It has crept well into the nose. Calamitous pain. Part falls off, leaves the flesh healthy. The crack also disappears. Let us drive on in earnest by this art ordained, most illustrious Sir. The worlds glory passes away. Everything will pass away. We shall pass, you will pass, they will pass. Part of that callous matter still remains near the top and in the angle but the lateral parts are in condition. A good and healthy pus exudes, sometimes more sometimes less. Apply red mercury precipitate, some ointment of poplar. Pills. Catalogues. Perks.

Mariners Mirror Magnify first by 6 with a Dutch Spyglass: the moon over the Thames is a ball with a curved seam. Over this verge, a little ragged, are seas Ill hatch or score: ye Caspian, great rug-fleck, then below, Foecund and Tranquill a jointed arm with tiny ears, and either side a dream cup and nectar scutch. The whole brimme along shewes coasts like a booke of voyages, the matter we know obliquid, unsettled. What shifts or crumbles in this continent we must bear in the mean. Some partes montenous, others like valleys in shadow. That which I specially observed was a promontory in the body of the feyned man. I could not set down the figure of all but by memory because I was troubled by the reume. Montaynous with an opening in the middest & some black passage from it to the man in the moone. In the full she appeares like a tarte, here a vaine of bright stuff, there of darke, and so confusedlie al over, that without a truncke to point up from my garret I see nothing notable. Thomas Hariotus oho trahit mutas said to unbelieve. By this tube the point of quadrature seek nomo, mono, noom nus, uns erath, hater, reath per stellas clock or watch 9h.46: not yet a right line but almost. 10h.52: a right line, an accidental rag or two at & nere the lower corner being obstructed. 11h.30: yet continuing. Others say wanting. Looke the obser[vation] papers

first takes in crayon. As palisade craters, ink to record what traverse.

John Cayley Zero-Count Stitcher 1 3 4 5 7 8 knuckles graze bare me here hung empty water yet reaches out hung knowledge halyard alone to seagulls hovers over island bare island shallows until he misspelt to entropy child languages for forbidden night head hook his expectant turns he falls pilgrim sailing to bloated a choking pine just below tracing your hand rose-tinged edge by expectant knowledge halyard alone to seagulls hovers over island bare island shallows until he misspelt to entropy child languages for forbidden night head hook his expectant turns he falls pilgrim sailing to bloated a choking pine just below tracing your hand rose-tinged imagined ochres later reach this wondering wondering in lost other happy grasp

he falls pilgrim until he misspelt words drifting only reached her top-sail to entropy child sinking and pitched that gives hovers his hand mouthful until he misspelt words drifting why until he misspelt words drifting pictures Neuraths pilgrim choking her rst selves selves and landings though unfocused pulled turning the cushion-shaped stone which textuality that gives hovers until he misspelt to entropy child languages for forbidden night head hook his expectant turns he falls pilgrim sailing to bloated a choking pine rock from lacing just below tracing your hand rose-tinged circling turning hold overboard and body pulled back entropy just below tracing his hand mouthful out then islanded knowledge halyard through empty circling

just below tracing her rst selves breaks the asked wondering in lost words drifting only near her granite her rst selves reaches out hung another father expected misunderstanding and texts another father expected her rst selves breaks the asked her waist halyard breaks the asked pulled back entropy just below tracing that gives hovers hovers over pine rock from lacing until he misspelt her rst selves overboard and islanded words drifting corpse out then islanded knowledge halyard turns in misunderstanding words drifting darkness he falls pilgrim wondering in lost reach that pilgrim reached her circling hand hovers selves knowledge halyard swim his ledge a choking pine he falls pilgrim

just below tracing me here hung her waist halyard until he misspelt words drifting darkness reached it sloping edge by expectant

____
Thousands of specially constructed three-word phrases, named in the course of our developing practice digrams, were generated from John Cayleys prose poem Misspelt Landings by combining all of this texts two-word syntagms with every unique word in the text. ( was at this point treated as a word.) These were then searched-for programmatically, double-quoted, in Google Books (shamelessly defying certain terms of use*) and the counts were collected. (This was originally done to give a simple skewed-Markov statistical intelligence to autonomous readers that were being made in the context of a larger project.) All of the three-word digrams that form the lines of the above poems (poems?) were selected, manually, from amongst zero-count digrams, i.e. those not (yet) found in the Google-indexed corpus. The total number of selected, potential zero-count lines was (for this experiment) only two hundred. (Early days.) A simple program, the Zero-Count Stitcher, rst picks one of these at random and then iteratively hunts through the remainder for a next line for which the count of {line n, word 2 + word 3 + line n+1, word 1} or {line n, word 3 + line n+1, word 1 + word 2}, searched-for programmatically in Google, is above a certain threshold (3 or 5 in these cases), i.e. the program hunts for an attested natural language enjambement. Numbers in the title are the serial numbers of the Stitchers runs. In later runs stanza breaks are generated whenever it took the Stitcher more than 30 searches to nd a line with suitable enjambement. Poetics or science? I can see it as placing simple but craftily-fashioned obstacles into natural ows of language as garnered from Google using instruments of linguistic=scientic observation and producing, arguably, an uncannily aesthetic turbulence. * This is a work of the Natural Language Liberation Front (NLLF). These texts were collected with instruments made, at the point of immediate production, by John Cayley, but as a spin-off from his major collaboration with Daniel C. Howe, The Readers Project <http://rednoise.org/readers/>, and fundamentally dependent on Howes extraordinary RiTa libraries <http://www.rednoise.org/rita/> for Processing <http://processing.org>.

David Miller

Maggie O'Sullivan

STRETTO:- PASSAGEWORK
* REMOVED to the terrain with the unmistakable trace: grass, asunder-written. The stones, white, with the shadows of stems: Read no more - look! Look no more - go! Go, your hour has no sisters, you are are at home. A wheel, slow, rolls out of itself, the spokes clamber, clamber up a kind of black field, the night needs no stars, nowhere asks after you.

a version of Paul Celans Die Engfhrung (Harry Gilonis)

* Nowhere asks after you

The place, where they lay, it was a name it has none. They did not lie there. Something lay between them. They did not see through it. Did not see, no, talked of words. None awoke, sleep came over them.

Came, came. Nowhere asks I, its I, I lay between you, I was open, was audible, my hand ticked toward you, your breath obeyed, it is still I, but yes youre sleeping.

* it is still

Years. Years, years, a finger feels up and feels down, feels around: the place of the join, tangible, here it gapes asunder, here it grows back together again who covered it up?

* Covered it up who?

Came, came. Came a word, came, Came through the night, Would glisten, would glisten. Ashes. Ashes, ashes. Night. Night-and-night. To the eye go, to whats moistened.

To the eye go, to whats moistened

Cyclones. Cyclones, since ever, Particle-flurry, the rest you know, yes, we read it in the book, was opinion. Was, was opinion. How did we grasp us us with these hands? And it was also written that. Where? We put a silence over it, venom-breastfed, huge, a green silence, a sepal-cup, a vegetal thought clung there green, yes, clung, yes, under a malignant sky. Of, yes, vegetals. Yes. Cyclones, particleflurry, there remained time, remained, to attempt it with the stone it was welcoming, it never got a word in. How good we had it:

Grainy, grainy and stringy. Stalky, dense; lumpy and radial; renal, plate-like and clotted; loose, ramified -: it, it never got a word in, it spoke, spoke gladly to dry eyes, before it shut them. Spoke, spoke, was, was. We would not let loose, were in the midst, a porous edifice, and it came. Came up to us, came through, mended invisibly, mended the last membrane, and the world, a millicristall, shot out, shot out.

Shot out, shot out. Then

Nights, separated out. Circles, green or blue, red squares: the world sets its inmost in play with the new hours. Circles, red or black, no flight-shadow, no alidade, no smoke-soul climbs and joins in.

Climbs and joins in At owl-flight, near the petrified scab, near our fugitive hands, in the latest rejection, above the shooting-target on the buried wall: visible, anew: the grooves, the choirs, back then, the Psalms. Ho, hosannah. Therefore there are yet temples. A star may yet have light. Nought, nought is lost. Hosannah. At owl-flight, here, the conversation, day-grey, of groundwater traces. * ( day-grey, of groundwater traces Removed to the terrain with with the unmistakable trace: Grass. Grass, asunder-written.)

ChrisPaul Activismpraxisformandtheecstatic whenIwas17 whogavea thePeasantRevol.13 Imean thehistoricalconnection theHegelianplywoodbridgebetween symbolism torchedtheATM stormedHQ andotherfamilialbrocades herlovespoiler activismwaxsplinter dimllain9.40 aspectacle ofpylons theimaginarymadelinear DearAldi nohardgaled thisperformancecallsouttheprocess callsbaleGwasanaethT39 10yearsservice astillplace unmute

 Nox whosespotswere Itrustyou A37 + theRAC Itrustyou callcentre loveisselfsupportingstructure whatthelightjettisoned sombre hercuticleinch godisdying RVTasarewe allGeoffrey blissfullyinured ruseofcauseandeffect mermaid'slisp,andcunt theriversaid arethetreeslistening themlot.com.pl 22mouthoftheSOUTH notofengland anditsmotorways thelanesbetween dearagatha

dearlois dearM&S egocoma Alfred'swood wherethelawsof winchester foridyllseeempire theperspexhotel slowcottaging tonightwewilldine oncyclists MG13 hisbodyfoundtauntedinasportsbag tiredoflameexcuses thehardyards thatfelonyisindispensable asrage i'dbegodwithout theirlivesaringroad Parkway inthisworldofform thereisnothingleft todesirebetween theperipheral withthem18,33,112 canyou

 youcan checkyourdistance

Matt Martin

wow and flutter

for Jennifer Pike Cobbing (in performance, bolded words are to be pronounced as closely as possible to the sounds that these words imitate) whispers from the big bang drip-drip-drip feed the clank of marsh warbler wings how simply smashing that a zoom lens snorts up image bubbles pop them in the chatterbox where radio jingles wow and flutter to create a buzz a tower of babble its straight up whack our box creaks open humming birds ping pong forth flappers all go gaga when the d.j. scratches honkytonk to sonic boom the bash is really zinging until rattlesnakes coil from our bong our code is cracked and everybody boos tsk tsk in houyhnhmn-land skyscraper doors

hiss automatically apart an empty clip clop makes its moan towards the clink yahoo.com shares crashed their splashdown rumbled globally this was our wheezes one hiccup our credit crunched poor chickadee eggs under flip flops shuffle now the deck and whip a flick-knife out a gust of wind is talking smack about snapdragons we zip its claptrap and cheap plonk gushes from its scream a screech owl nurtures cuckoo fledglings whooping cough claims nine a quack tells us that all should snort dogwood bark its a snip at 20 per sniff but sirens blare we rang the plod for how can roaring boys let rip while cattle rustlers crush smallholdings flat and wham outsell the clash tick tock tick tock the high five slap stick bump

and grind hacks away at righteous grumbles we immediately click we belch the taste of crackling all the whip-poor-wills our hubbub discombobulates dont even groan dont give a hoot they fizzle out the twinkling of an eye slams shut behind them knock knock whose warp and woof is their hush is their motors purring is their wings whoosh murmurm urmuring together

James Harvey

Ants will reform all alphabets wiping out unwanted letters Velimir Khlebnikov r B r C > 0 Separate [adj] letters B B is the number of the offspring of others that an individual will want to help to raise r r is relatedness to their own offspring r r is relatedness to the others offspring C C is the number of their own offspring they wont be able to produce while raising others Together is greater than 0 and their inheritance Large letter B offspring help each other and their mother raise her young their siblings With strong altruism large letter B their inheritance is up to all individuals of their population working together AN ANTS NEST

Epigraph by Velimir Khlebnikov from Lightland translated by Paul Schmidt in Selected Poems, Collected Works of Velimir Khlebnikov, Volume 3 Harvard University Press, 1997.

Ant returning to her nest from food source lays short-lived trail of attracting and orientation pheromones reciprocation usually exceeding evocation so structure remains in place diffusing to centimetre wide chain of semiellipsoids attracting pheromones induces ant at nest attracting pheromones induces ants structure remains in place temporarily stronger to ant than orientation pheromones through scent receptors on their antennae from Dufours gland near their anuses attracting pheromones follows trail lays own trail on return structure remains in place temporarily induces with pheromones back down semiellipsoid trail others their antennae feeling up to edge to steer them lay down own trail on existing trail lays down own trail of ants one ant lays down own trail of ants one trail large letter B large number of offspring altruists will want to help to raise for others

r is relatedness to others offspring more pheromones secreted to the trail returning laden with food reciprocation exceeding individual evocation trail remains in place fixed structure food at site not so tempting or further away the reciprocation not exceeding individuals evocation faced with some intransigence at nest gentler behaviour required ants in nest need more persuading ant brushes them with her antennae displays regurgitated food in her mandibles leads them out with outgoing pheromone trail they themselves advertising site or not to others on return as/ if food at site decreases too many ants recruited signalling decreases pheromones dissipate signalling breaks down break up trail C is number of their own offspring they wont produce while raising others

B is number of offspring individuals want to help raise for others ant emerging from her pupa soon her developed ovaries producing unviable eggs when surrounded by others cares for future broods turning eggs cleaning cells processing/ storing food feeding larvae feeding caring for the queen feeding her own unviable eggs to larvae and queen structures in place ants internal structures in place high levels of hormone in her blood predispose her to behaviour the thresholds needed to initiate actions lowered state more completely experienced transformed outside herself within herself ant performs her tasks with ease learning or knowing what to do each stage at time needed and to work with others in place paying attention to needs with each ant different in her overall disposition r is relatedness to their own unrealised offspring

large letter B large number of offspring altruists help raise for others comes a time ant changes behaviour her ovaries become less developed levels of the hormone in her blood lower when low level is reached new hormone previously suppressed exacts juvenile behaviour starts ant will leave nest forage for food more completely new state experienced transformed outside herself within herself feeling herself a whole new instrument other ants in nest can vary her time of switch/ switch her back if her ovaries still function and a need occurs r is relatedness to the others offspring

AFTER BARNETT NEWMAN

NOT CARDINAL NEWMAN Rachel Whiteread can over and over disturb Bridget Rileys space phase patterns You dont have to fit this system You are human!

VON NEUMANN MACHINE

FOR BUILDING LEONARA CARRINGTON

mother builds a replica of herself following instructions then copies the instructions for building replica of herself and places instructions inside replica of herself: daughter Leonora Carrington inherits her mothers and her own ways of building replica of herself: The Stone Door

Antony John

Doug Jones

WIVES OF THORPE; BIOCHEM 1) some walk on the empty field next head, lungs, empty I first wail over the stile and into the band water, O2, to a like point, check intense sense of domestic animal sun, sorority, rang voluminous trees, a hedgerow in shows each fly is in the absolute pic-essence ready to blow, henceforth yes, it is the dart o the while can I respond to the calamity? old buildings at the site of the opening, cause lobular, dusty plants and seeds, the lower half blue dive, close to A ones face 2) now the world turns ill either an angel among dead man attendant X-linked, taught as in teached and gargantuan Y, matter is lost early to the high sugars that form as eye crystal right to the head of 6 year old sedge infant, girl, apotheosing dance bows text, part 2 more common than we think, readily is the science that made a weeun, one day after Glutathione in the heart of the flower honeybee, and to the base, butterfly toll I like, the mass, a keep around her summer, a collapsing, mature woman now it is small nature. over the earth, isofriends - OH water goes out like a drawing

marsh flora if 3 boating grebes, oncotic, honest twisted with sensibility resolve and work, them, even when they are poorly even if it is a fashion, an ululation 3) once, over the grass of the dresses notes emerge, from one port, a broad most animals, to the other, a river already yesterday, a familial, charg-ed dome conditions of placement antic, wedding bodies Runes, that run around the ankles of the salvaged population, like drains it is perhaps that our Amine is seen more at this light now, dreaming, in glass twice, I think I saw or heard hovering like a bee to a flower impelled every inch the wet-land sterol mermaid and the Jake, Orpheus, her kids in nighties rescued up to a point nettle is in the Jesus part of their skulls inside a single anti-codon drip numinous glasswort goes into the North Sea 4) Wensum against all risk of fire holy, cry belted in rhyme, again, fiercer the dreamtime over Thorpe east Amy moved to the edge of the hill neighbouring, quiet on the phone darling, is she still cell communicate all junctions, single mum oxygen the planets lay lift up the soldiers

drench them, on heaven, round under straw nothing, light, respiration twice the long grasses have said Earths a sap grown along red gardens all Thorpe wives run to the water somethings coming; value, charg-ed bird and law swiper

Some people are starving 1) The 3 year old child breaks from the arm of her mother to soon be diagnosed + runs down the ward - you couldnt make that up really there is stuff inside cells the APC for instance, gene which is difficult to raise, two ghosts become like poesy + change from normal to cancer cells more, and each remarkable, upregulated, resemblant to natural love Repair this? you Jesus, full of good works big lungs and mouth this affect. I ask 2) Driving, to Yarmouth a gate that is balanced across reclaimed land hedge with infinite depth the ground, this is the brightness of the sun when you come out into country this is blocked by the same toy gun that blocks perception, contributes to the antagonism of running, jumping and hiding away. This series of works these collaterals spattered by Norfolks 5 protective cells 3) There is a tree, and other, enclosure plenty of them, to synthesise apples and moieties of carbs you will find it if you walk up from my house with your state strong legs.. regulated trees, who loved reading and crap these yield found carbon, formed to be different (but not proper different) to the turd you slip in your pocket a chain, via the secreted King

4) Only one of the black, and green hands of the poet reaches across the table and steals one of Chris Pauls cigarettes without permission I recall Chris was having a piss at the time (and dont worry the poets not here) It is the organisation of the moment, driving wakefulness and arousal in one of Gods branches- translated, a murmur - large and shy and, at the time, far away from Norwich the god-in-man-human type said all shall be well, and all shall be well of course though in part he hated his job 5) Even before I knew anything about poetry I hated Carole Ann Duffy shes got that lottery-group voice that never went down too well in the Lynn blackness, alive in the childrens home the workhouse the kingdom at sea, for example, where the whalers the boys of poor inheritance got flogged with an iron bar this is not natural, even though I forget the Africans name. All I am left with, bless her, so sweet, is a yearning for our fires and other blood systems which you can find in vellum, Carole defeated people a serpent chases the single fish 6) sat on a sofa with my friends I live next door to, in London, a little wandering machine, this, I appreciate, is a common effect of the normal metabolic function we all search for in song - but you cant beat the heart, as an example of something wheatey and good to eat, brushed recently by near death, agonal, through seas to Gods reluctance Good, Ive found my complex of contacts the nice clubbing types grass coloured, as friends, twitchers

7) The useless, indefinite movement, the drum the vestibular reflexes, triggered by gravity an imagined adversary, and alone on a boat alone in the snow or in a car youve got it friends, what does Poe mean? He never got to Norfolk! Best suppress him that convulsant target, that few best inhibit that vile reciprocal death of a beautiful, stooping witch shewho stretched her long like marten back long before she was hanged 8) There were fishermen, there, and then the bouncing fish ran out and left an unchang-ed void No fish meant we had to increase our intake of roadkill and import more bananas, oranges pretty, but muscle, and ceramicy bone. The arable land between death and life these two ends of the county include the body continually formed and emptied and fallen and 3 weeks later made a furry callus I have climbed the mast of that journey it is a bomb, to eat grain 9) The tall adult model grows into a hill eventually transforms itself into red, bony mountains - a foetus connected to former loves, tragedies Earths grail and or nutrients are found somewhere near peaks too, though far away, gone from all sorts of hypertrophied things that are to eat, to play, to recall -so dont fuck around the hole inside the hill must remain connected to your mouth and anus - compact, and upland sun and wine will disintegrate into the same model fruit of Eden, the child and very tips of recently shaped long bones

Steve McCaffery The Atikythera Mechanism I feel so old I cant remember that Ive just been born. First, the too nearness of a suggestion then suddenly the spider builds its own refrigerator to store the flies brought in by one of the new board members. Show the scaffold the way out through the ditch. Its not so different with the babies newly dropped off from the top.

MAGICAL HISTORY

Partly out of sentimental reasons Kevin works in mystery high-end arpeggios giving way to last-call blues sung by the Sunny Boys after their second Shadow Council

in heat and humidity available for weeks but obviously someone ran the numbers on the plasma shoe-in unfortunately the reds never made it through the plume grass knocked off balance by a severed statuesque platycodon sun-seeker no doubt unveiling that expandable sense of sun-dial pink placed so the shadow falls on a whittled twig and the insults really fly at Cleopatra Senegal ex-wife fed unceremoniously to the lovers beeswax youth grunts killer vagrant reported to be well but not much of a gambler and never breaks down until its cloudy for fear of dampness ruminating on those whose lives were lost by continental scarcity and on-line questioning the often darkly comic junction with the throttle-wink perceiving a land of footprints it rivals my collection of double mixed mole seeds which grow like the aardvaak through strictly electronic editions if a nail breaks Im ready with an original blend of humanitarian interference quite ready to bomb all Athens and language

and if the rats decide they would rather starve than supinely assume Russian nicknames and reappear at every little crack in the concrete so be it but buy your travel card about a week earlier and if you wish to create your own Godwottery I recommend you start with package company names Americans are not sentimental about cork and if there had been music then perhaps the harpsichord would have hand-sung without protest despite the double helix coming from the cathedrals and the courtrooms vivisections and since all words are forgotten infinities try it with les dents serrs de les dieux serrs the clenched teeth of the huddled gods sounds better in French try tree-trinkets, trunks chatter-muzzled centuries to bare back your temptations its telegraph time to bulletin worlds learn to murmur the discus letter as light to the moth-plunge spinners moss takes it murk up the tablature near oxidized notch scaly in shade change tooth-of-lion balanced in apogee opaque and trouty by riverruns coral grammar never disappoints so anthologize the waterfalls

wander to wick and wind (Are you there yet intrepid diversity? Youd be better off a viewpoint from a vanished memorandum pointing a penumbral) and dont wait for me Ill stay put waiting for my shoes to wear out thinking of the child slave who made them looking to the bodies in the car-bomb footage we saw in the weight-loss synagogue symposiums power-point validation.

FALSTAFFS OTTER

Check-out counter unless a juxtaposition occurs inside the magma luminosities no it cant be time for lunch this day the nays carry it to the waiting aid workers nothing else but teeth in a sandwich the lava flow distributes the distance from the cop

to the village who says its happening to me whose mouth engages the roar of the piston-fund. Find it elsewhere somewhere else a freak storm in the forecast at the close of trading to moral hybrids like me. I like an i in a found text left open a little to the right not all language does that some leaves off a garment after security clearance the flag alone stationary E is for envelope and the capital of France is F little bodies simple dizziness eight billion sold. Social act = aesthetic act the statute of limitation stretched to fossil plaintiffs and a word from their sponsors Word Cup Federation soup and a someone bereft of time under milkwood the tenor is timid gathers the remnants of a mouse

on screen not all too bad a crease in the chromosome the pattern of a meeting gathered to gather the way its imagined only after the visit its first proper name. Eye chart = person number no rooms for rhizomes no room at the inn but fables need attention so Pope peeps then poops a paper trail though statistics body counts all of them leapt at the chance groans at the fact dot slash . / mirror my language Listerine Coors Right Wisteria Finisterre

CALIBAN GLOBALIZED

Sometimes God laughs himself into morality the gauche flneur with hiccups

granting chaos a chance . when all the time the solar system that explains us is a projection of ourselves. . . youre getting too close to authentic voice time for another ideological state apparatus of the kind that rendered the seventies so palatably vaporized by the urine of its parts its all cosmetics to the military- industrial muse a little Modernism in the boudoir to solidify robust epistemology bidet delusions, no? and so the cowboys emulsified that way happy in the early lesson televised for posterity protecting their decades behind public-service sun-block cosseting identities beside the fiscal collapse of an Asian mistake I have a duty not to represent it and if the doubtful cement necessitates a flash-back to a rising over Paris or Berlin in a speech balloon (my topological limit these days) then so be it and it is I nor doubt in constructing this theory of the self from a wish-fulfillment overheard with tank almost empty on the road nobody mentions but Bunyan new quite well must be dead at birth

both basal and banal reflected in the clear pool of its surplus spending. One thinks Vietnams in Vienna an admissible mistake in an era of shifting particulars and the disappearance of the pleasure principle for so many of the others not like us. Equally one thinks Massacre in Montana occupies Manhattan Missouri which keeps alliteration alive our friendly operator at the other end of a line of fire. Equally one reflects on Wagners role in Watergate and the surveillance quotient in the Bayreuth cover-up for how otherwise would rapprochement disintegrate beneath the twin caryatids of Capital and Kulture into the minimal clarity of the guess. Topos, ethos, nomos even muthos thank God for the Greek that explains us

Nat Raha sonnet I only know how to bat . if this coil tensile recovery strays pattern noir definition, an .skein (in situ) drawn index, clue accented around southern sip / percept/dcor; having gauge trace evident the prong dined by you occupies, ease in the grape reducing me garrulous. temporal slippage: October, london here threadneedles aesthetic tremble through to marrow, nauseate the wastage /sq ft or shield invite / glare: keep your polished hands in dismount to need to trust air / percentage scape 19 & 20/10/10

to traverse (part-preface) sky nerves haze , indices hung. to dash futile elliptic this hour, survey insert clogs horizontal a bare atmospheric duct. week / calibrate hatchet scatter , this interchange the safety only current not to invoke sirens: streams / pierce refractive altostratus , brace physical. mundaneity screws the common resilient : your glides at least graze audio; thermal inversions blurt sketch a resonance magnetic glow cognition, aspirin to the overflow cadenza slight / manic / scout tide knot anxiety tight about thighs, gust w/ terrestrial / inhaling the lapse of cycle condensed your gaze vivid scopes barometer, feline insight dry /// exclaim crack: the residue, our venn contingent draws figures to the filing self /// unassured faades sectioned in grapple twitch all sample potency, creek spine; curvature-by-night is reprised headscarf drifting periodicity borne to quartz facet, to compliment, to your cut & lull set lucid in the dusksoak cardiac craves / quiet melody drawn

navigation is the iridescence / meander caressing trees back to bud, & your textual spinning a handle by lull glass, circulation dries mute-vigilant to stagnant greyframe; heaves breath loss of earth stud totem residence & the frank aural destitution is relieved only in short girlcut (although this is your slogan to alight), autumn apologetic asphyxiates our limbs (& the beverages we discount them by) rough nylon6,6 crisp to spectral turn we once a sea-level implementation removed in/directional lies kings cross once a tributary facet we could afford to rococo sketch in predicate, philofundamental. anoraks dismissive of behaviour plastic screwed take your souvenirs / spatial sociology : long acre(s) a nul here, telecodes / frizzd fascinate delude our trio: our wage inaccessible unless to succumb desert; 24/09/10

sault hammond / organ epitome drooping about eyelids decorate your fringes woollen shade & August you have so little in nature of girls & brogues & c21 mysteries lit well revolve w/ east dozens cranes, transport blowing the very pens: I am owned nostalgia when the new cheap graze is all my cone cells & beyond is just suburbs sweet to toxicity & knitting.

30/08/10

(coda) uke tied to wave freezing feet: coast strategy exit hound inhaling balcony visuals trump game murmurs, rearranged to pebble gull-swoop circular this: the metataxis quenched / founded here, we shall have our cake in desolation; balcony smoke in smoke; shoal to flock shelter; imperative strand wash-off. we watch the automations relapse endlessly; your temp local glaze swells w/in walls, scripture handwritten in distro, cassette pressed idols yellow&black despite the despise / imminence overground / phase gracious. the text craves it. comfort, in absorption-wash heads to breast to palms to palms / pass delicate, darling. eyes ringing. & the lands remainder: serial references looped oblivious as droning underlay.

Wayne Clements

Perish

Click title to play audio file

SteveWilley

From Slogans,
*****

[The Old Wisp Man staggers into shot. The television flickers. He points. The scorch mark, the grass sprouting in patches, the sun, not pink, grey, or green on the rubble.]

Old Wisp Man: [pp] Look, here, look, on Saturday they damaged this part of the wall.
[His finger slowly traces a round circle in the empty air.]

Nidal: [mf] Yes, what a dream of a day! Our hands truly wailed the sky like almonds.
[Darkly, like the excess of black type on card or sun on hard water, a blue strip of barb.]

Old Wisp Man: [fo] Yes, may God proliferate Saturdays.

[Viewed from across two rooftops in Hebron, from another hot rooftop in Hebron, an Israeli persistently changes his hat.]

Israeli: [ppp] The cap, the cap [pn] the helmet, the cap [mf] the helmet, the bush hat,
[pn] the cap [sff] the cap [ppp] the helmet [sfp] the cap [sforzando and without will] the

cap, the helmet, point over there, the cap, the cap, the helmet, the bush hat [the
cap] ppp [the bush hat] sff, mf, sfp [the helmet] mf, sff [not here] ppp, ppp*

*****

Mike Weller

Shuttered

Click image to play film.

Sean Bonney

After Rimbaud

Place cursor over image to play sound file.

Pansy Maurer-Alvarez

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN OUR CONTINENTS

Far from the river winding spatial flowers let loose flattening fill clearings The archers escape creatures torn from the dark A master verb another passage into daylight In this weather I turn my back there is no comparison terms I think might fit this bright day We have only pieces of word things left I sense what might have been there Row of lights or sleeping nearby the water earth hope of greedy green ebb and flow time along the river

What I wanted to tell you isnt this: in this weather you cant tell just any story. It has to be golden and roped like a fake theater curtain, ripped by design and creased irreparably, in the right places or you wouldnt like the outcome. Its that kind of story In this weather you hear noises the start of heating and some machines like music where rhythm is more important than youd think more than words/works whose poetic titles attract attention The room with the juxtaposition

challenged the 1920s critics

I have made a place. the distance between our continents pushing back flat dark wet roads entirely topographical lacerations many variables fake Some ideas are so strong you cant help breathing them in compliant with my mood ground down to this The silence of fields under snow seems absolute at first

Venus in her red-rimmed hat knows all the medieval byways forest-struck and smiling she keeps the key of course, dangling over your golden tower your distant golden tower Vanity, mist, breath of spirit not so much as the lack of it laughter half stepping out trees all green around the castle altered by fingerprints birdsong/songbirds contagious, storm-impending Drer on the other hand holding a thistle engaged, self portrait at 22 Why are flowers such a subject? beauty, Eros and death (taken directly from nature) nude all day I love loopholes theyre so cunning

Irrigation ferns a large pink iris the seasons motions happen without us yet we are not excluded Sense and desire, and every thought youve had is there, wrapped in air, color, fragrance Love poems and eroticisms can so sadden You depart significantly

Buildings in a single street or buildings overlooking each other along the street to corners sudden eruptions But time at this speed diffuses and only takes up its course near a continent Walls fences bridges I love them all but walls intrigue me today a stone at evening, a path My song/love is the city tonight, edgy and torn/sleek I see the young girls come running down steps I saw them earlier dressing and undressing their pink plastic dolls Figures dance like black flashes/flames against shop lights/fronts The metaphor of the tree and the human forest freely mingle in the vegetation Constraints of the natural shape of the stone shapes and lights and words falling in the forest persuasive bronze green tint turned to laurel Exhale the will to take up the same motif repeatedly for the love of its sound and guide the mind elsewhere Smokestacks

WHAT WE RESEMBLE

leaving I cried and fell back into the same light (wild with loss) placing the core of the thought alongside actual things in a line of delicate blue something permanent and illicit in the falling leaves, the dust clouds Orpheus and Eurydice touching in the park, in profile with a camera; a body slumped at sundown, the earlobes, fingertips, toe nails and halo, the things you cannot speak about touching wrists, heels about to fall asleep, with colorful dreams the sound of water on water, a monastery garden; passion and grace (inseparable from redemptive powers) cradling the wounded animal ***

a storm passes, collapsing indistinguishable from an old thought do not believe its flowered print, its ornamental pond the outcome is the occasion: a fugue of tile floor, wisteria, the failure of a facade and a little bridge of mischief the final episode is inherited and leaves you no reprieve

RICHARD OWENSSIX BALLADS

TIE SHUFFLING CHANT ears ope widejaw the team they cannot ride (blindside turtle ditch legaltenderthe flesh granted to claim difficult ways uninsuredno wayes carefull employed about unhandsome workto assist mistake our interest (inasmuch as they were people glossing over several points plotted to map we were cold thenwe read fully restrained to have such credit with Thee further to extend (inscribed upon these very feet

FOGGY MOUNTAIN BREAKDOWN

nervous conditions conturbat me mounted bey der hand despoiled planks of the aviation ascend disembodiedunaccounted costs earmarked for sidelines settled into states cut off from tribes compared & ranked insofar as use neurologically grounded raises what holy ritual from the hills

LEVEE CAMP HOLLER

darkened air silent loam spare us to go back home solemn debates below a sacrificial extension lilacsyour cross in rye returning unquenched traveling in good company nourished by the mud stormcut into the music hath risen to an occasion public faces a yard long drop shouts facing traffic what come round to collect a plenty worth the getting each found their own gone far beyond the strand

IROQUOIS STEEPLECHASE

this wicked gallon of rye when a man loseth in his commodity for want take like recompense dear by providence where there is scarcity for for now is the hand of God upon the commodity infuriated by the light sum of mancommon coasters unprofitable fowlers armigerous families forsooth more calibrated than colored beyond yon weari hand vast forces variously at war saints deep in their ecstasies wrassle to extricate thousands of fencible goods outward piety & inward purity subdivided ad infinitum like some kind of wild scripture

EL ABANDONADO me abandonastesnear the public road or the stars across the way copper or tina bellwether calls me home these Albuquerque kissesnear misses or a fella needs a car to call on the bright tin women & pitches figs & oranges from the more mature trees or your mother is watching from the caboose of an old military train

RETURN OF DJANGO (IVANHOE RHYGING) wreck a pum pumhis hands are completely broken can you hear thisgypsy manouchecascading arpeggiosbroken chords caravan to disinterred clouds shottasDjango shoots first shantytown tempo di massacro dis bamba clot chop di wood such a hard man wanted fe dead

Gregorio Fontn
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Steven Fowler

(on the difference between striking man & woman) a jab will do the same {a jab} as will a right cross {a right cross} but down in the body is where it becomes interesting women have wombs one can throw a wombpunch (a wombpunch) so the starter sack will fuse & the amniotic switch will tritck + the housing fluid will spill where will we get our boxers from the end of prospects what shall we do with our thumbs? there is a gap lack cannot be punched or intimidated both & women have kidneys equality > blood littered micturate here around here left body hook & the end of moon mystery where the stomach rocket fails the absorbant putsch straight right to the pouch turn your heel dip your knee turn your shoulders over

(the situation in the Middle-East has put pressure on my relationship) in 1976 garryfrid d a nine-yearold-boy discove red this sword w hile walking his dog he found it in the riv er swale at gilling west gary was la ter awarded a blue peter badge for his discovery a nd he and the swo rd appeared on the bbc programme a blue peter badge is awarded to children whoappearonbluepe terunusually the sword was awarded a badge of its own

(I am a charter member of the Viking Sparrows) I longed to be a respected member of a motorcycle gang throwing out chains like a pygmy tongue riding through hosts stitching scissor wounds instead I am on the periphery of a poetry gang some things ask to be pillaged (notice my careful associative slip) there exists an enemy half janus they are out there one of the last dams she bleeds until even the butchers notice who will toast our marble hostess? I am but a prospect having been patched over I was a charter biker of my own the daughters of Jane she ramraids an off licence we ride against mercy we turn presses black then flat with wheel rubber & angels of the clamped bowels all other gangs panic as running guns is a tiny stretch not even speeding for an ambulance @theres no money anywhere@ nature presented to the world when, vanquished by the blubber though the hands Bobbleminash she wished to be vanguarded in cheshunt by character a dead grey partridge imprinted into the binding asphalt & you can tell it was rich all kinds of chickenfowl

half-feathered pecked to death by the Viking sparrow

(notes from the desk drawer) #38 with art acknowledging the ever present structural necessity of concealment mystery. Conclusive answers are impossible. Absolute secure knowledge. Questions above answers for epistemological ideal embraces concealments involved in knowing #39 doesnt exist upon a particular horizon & understanding of reality, it studies these very horizons. Being can always send a new understanding so we need to stay humbly open to what appears to us. #34 untruth as concealing concealment is at the heart of revealing all grasp the impossible infinite minds. Being loves to hide #35 the concealing itself gets concealed we lose awareness. Primordial nonessence of truth. We are not aware we are not aware of Being as a whole. #36 we keep our mastery of common sense & it blinds us. Pre-established omniscienc blocks the unfamiliar, we cannot insist meaning, we cannot court errancy in scientism. #37 untruth belongs with truth. We cannot rid untruth but be aware, concealing is inevitable. We can bring down the meditative cultivation of appearance, we will become intrinsically discordant.

(spitalfields tar baby) the city of quite a few births (another motherly exaggeration) is not wholly sure of the feeding family port and swans blood russian ladders haughty tights it flows the pages for London has birth records its very own kanun feuds flow in the binding gut treacle the London manus a banana plantation; the perfect habitat for spiders insist on the terms Ceylon, Rhodesia dress as a silverfish the clamp is citiborn and stonequail wearing winged hellment and carrying caduceus in one arm and a banner encased in tother plague cannon firing blanks reads the headline the mother of harlots discovered her rise and when with many of her sorceries with her merchants of civers of orders and ranks cripplegate salt tower fell traitors gate circuit of London hosted the fashionable octopus games the pale an octopus wears a skincap suburn upon its birdbeak green turns blue white to red before being fried in lard and sold back to the Calabrians powder burns tenticles pock where it gripped the pot the suncap clogs the throat of the bulging tourist they allow him to wink as he capitulates lionflower cottage two loves my country & my city black and shiny brick lane has a tumour

like an oracle egg haematomed eightball the rolls in lungfluid spearpierced the cobbles run ruby with blue blood the restaurant clears poetry night the remained few, the passive have red eyeballs cluster capillary outburst they came for the sales & the richness of the last is matched by the variety of the crockery the flushed face of the teenage french girl Hans Memlings mistress the dying wordsunrest the dish washing so we are left with drowning the father of the three arts architecture stalk & complaint

Johan de Wit June June kept a tight rein. She counted her toes before she moved her feet; she measured her inseam before she was going for a walk; she asked for help when she needed a hand-out. Between herself and the ancient windmill there was nothing but thin air, each time she crossed the heath the air got thinner, last time it was so thin she could count only forty-nine intakes of air in the seven minutes it took her to get behind the wind. June stood herself upside down and consulted her sagging brain. Misty missionary positions minus forecourt hours indicate requests are brief but moments when handled with broomsticks and foreclosures are periods of time. June stood herself right side up: who do you think you are? You werent talking to a ghost, were you? As it happened, when she said that, June stood in front of a mirror. It must have wandered in her direction because she had made no appointment to see herself. June saw the mirror but the mirror didnt see her. June got closer but the mirror could as well have been standing behind her back. June got even bolder, she stepped right inside the mirror, but no sign of her body. This is no way to treat a human being; neither mirror nor image moved. June was trapped inside her own mirror, sealed from top to toe, bricked in, walled up, smoothed over. With the help of vanity the last concept in her armoury June positioned the mirror in such a place passers-by would be compelled to have a look; June hoped that their reflections would set her free. Next time when you look up and down a mirror please say hello to June, will you?

Tegwen Again Tegwen was caught with his pants down but when he stepped away from himself nobody seemed to be embarrassed in the slightest. How come no-one is embarrassed when Im caught with my pants do wn, Tegwen asked himself. He knew he would get a straight answer from his own face, but I must find a fax machine first. Otherwise the answer just sits there! Tegwen walked down to Putney High Street, with all these nice locations in the background there should be fax machines at every street corner. Tegwen turned them all inside out, worms but no fax machines. Now the traffic found it difficult to negotiate Putney High Street, all these corners were blocking the road. Chaos in Putney! Tegwen, being in the midst of all this turmoil and mayhem: taxi drivers uploading their passengers, lorry drivers unloading their valuables on the pavement, bus drivers playing hide-and-seek with the elderly who darent leave the bus, said to himself, not having persuaded anybody to listen, first I was down on my luck, then I was told to fax a machine and now Im caught up in a citizens protest, whats going on in Putney? His lips were still warm from having spoken so loud and clear that he didnt notice that one trouser leg w as missing and by sheer coincidence that the corresponding leg was missing as well. When he realised the position he was in Tegwen hopped to the nearest person just missing an articulated lorry and said: nice to meet you, could you help me catch my leg? Mind your own business was the response he got from this nice gentleman in Putney.

Gwent Gwent had posted a letter to a friend in Wales. Within three days she got a reply: thank you for your letter, blah blah blah. Gwent was very pleased with herself and the blahs. Thank you sounded real, herself ditto and the blahs were rather touching. It had not always been like that. All this waiting over the years had made Gwent pencil thin. But, according to her new calculator, if she received three letters a week she could have three meals a day. The problem was she had only one friend in Wales, one in Scotland and one in Ireland and the distance between these three home countries increased the times between her meals. With her English friends she kept in touch by phone so they can be ruled out. Gwent went to the nearest sorting office to explain her predicament. What do you suggest? Reduce the time my letters take to get to my friends and reduce the time their replies come back to me. Yes, youre right, I can only write when I receive a reply, its part of who I am. Yes, its true, I can only have a meal when I receive a reply, its part of my constitution. The postal workers called a meeting and asked Gwent to chair it. Agenda: how to speed up the letters to and from Gwent! A disgruntled shop steward leaked the purpose of the meeting to the media. Headlines: pencilthin letter writer begs for a meal! Three days later Gwent received three sackfuls of letters all beginning with: thank you for your letter, blah blah blah. It worked! It worked! Within days Gwent felt bloated. Within weeks she was the size of a pillar box. Within months Gwent was dead.

Keme On his way to the airport Keme came across an underground station. Whats that doing here? Where is my book of logic, chewing gum and marsuppleness? No, Keme, the belly of the beast is not part of the upper deck, you may check in now. But Keme was not convinced. Im going to fly, thats why Im on my way to the airport, why should I have to go underground? Moles dont fly, do they? This is London, going from A to B, you need air, earth and water and when you book all three they may set you free. If you come across an underground station, you may have come across one or like the other day, may have used it, may have felt at home; please take your time and you may even arrive at your destination. Thats what Keme had in mind. Not so quick! Keme wants to go to the airport but in his own time. There is no shortage or is that short cake of time. Keme woke up. Between Heathrow and since Keme had fallen asleep and was now frantically searching for the location of common sense. He knew where it was when he left home: in his back pocket, between his wallet and his skin, but now there was no sign of it. Where could it have gone? Keme looked in his wallet, no common sense; went through his pockets, again no common sense; thought of himself, no, no common sense; went to ground, still no common sense; set up a three-way trade union, but no common sense was smart enough to take up the project or came to his rescue. Now we will never know whether Keme got to the airport or whether the air was too thick to fly through.

Keme He bought a biro, one sheet of blank paper from the kiosk opposite the pub, sat down at his favourite desk and began to write a story. He that is Keme and the story that is this story. Now, if you allow me, Keme knows a lot or two, having sold the previous ones he is now ready to go back to his blank paper getting yellow because he likes the sun but the paper doesnt. Wheres the story? Impatient hands neither hold nor handle stories, let alone write them; these words came from Kemes mind so he knew that he had to learn patience before the day turns round and gets nasty if he ever wants to write a story that sticks to the page. This is what he did: he went for a long walk, Putney Heath, Wimbledon Common, Richmond Park and back and forth, wrote down a word with his right foot to wipe it out with his left foot. Thats what he did that day all day long. At the end of the day Keme had still a blank sheet of paper but all this writing and rubbing had given him an idea. But first he needed a good nights sleep because he was tired. During the night he forgot everything he had ever learned so the next morning when he woke up he didnt know that he had woken up. He had no idea that he had had an idea. But the blank sheet kept staring at him throughout the day and following him around throughout the night. Keme woke up on the second day to find a sheet of blank paper between his teet h, he tried to brush it away but it wouldnt go. Keme got fed up with these silly games and refused to write a story that has to be written with a biro on a blank page.

Frances Presley

i
in di in di an iota a pig tail dipped in an ink well if all the world was paper and all the sea was ink there would be not a thing to bite a line in seven oceans not a drop to drink i was skipping and fishing by sea shadow and earth light of infant tarmac thinking what if what if the taste of parch ment in my mouth the taste of poison io io in di no navy uniform indi go swim through the skies my aqua marine my quink my impress of india

j
j j jump up the wall jump in the hay long jump hoop jump jump -- ing off the swing i taught myself how to jump at height stretching my joi

nts following the line of my feet no broken back or con finement in a jigsaw where inter locking pieces disappear to greet a lock keeper waiting to turn the gates a jump is not a jar its a con jugation of space of here and where you will land feet first head first a dare a judge ment of distance a journey from i to j-

l o g o r

g f y

girls are loggerheads to the logician pointing her long shiny fingernails you are wicked lining up the adders - lo go forth find the loglog and multiply obvious lemons obfuscate girdles fractious goodlands roster yurts lost outcomes grieve ostriches lines on green off girls roll fierce yule

m lying down is a vow el a mur mur after a rhyth m a sonority she curls across the solfa short enough to wake a space in her equi libri um a mother tongue is a tale read to mum a bi-labial listener never silent before mem ory or a monsoon mozart makes moka we remember to nip the mint I do not make up as her we were never immaculate she was maat good order is made up differently a mouth accused of being a mystic she saw the meteor

n
comics are not news pirates slice off heads glued back on the wrong neck sutures a line of paste nine notebooks in my stocking
nano books three inches by two made such tiny print with a fine nib an imitation of type designed against each other constraints bored him and handed over to Charlotte

in most novels the tutor and his pupils have gone on a nature hunt while nanny and her children find an ewt an ettle and an ickname

o
on off on off on off switch wide as your eyes turn on we are twins we are binding we bit. no piggy in our middle one is sleep-a-lot one is eat-everything in the battle between O mega and o micro O o O o say her bones not an Offering or an Obey thy or an obi ter dictum are Os that came over from Greco Romano were punched out sound pa(i)nting sound like o no ma to(e) po Ei A!

Rod Mengham

ENGINEERING WORKS

How they brought the good news will count for nothing beside the infill of words in your mouth forensic evidence of pentameter travelling across space. OK, listen the post-it note was for your eyes only. I need this like I need a sense of viduity or the death of bees in the hive. The beginning of the end of the queue is the fourth estate bored to death with its own freedom. Is this prosodic enough? A flotilla of sighs and naufractuous groans rally to the standard and demand a plebiscite. Do not attempt this in a tremulous voice the thing for taking stones out of horses hooves is broken in two or is lying asleep

in the long file of the wood cutters enigmas.

AD NAUSEAM

You could not remember our tune you prefer a medley on the castanets. Your whole being was telling me I have no choice. One hand on the tiller the other letting go. The tiller gives nothing in return only a splinter in the quick of the nail. This is a hard lesson whatever it costs conjuring thought from the poem before last even to speak is to struggle. Between bystanding and sleepwalking is a fine line and I dont have the nerve to ask. Would she steal away one Lapland evening before the backsliding dawn. You strike while the iron is conveniently arranged. I stoop to pick up things in your path where the dust gets. But you suspect nothing and travelling blood has its own indifference. Shoot anything that moves or carols.

I speak as I find and this is the emergency reading room.

REPEAT THIS

You have lost it was my fault but theres more I live close to the tramlines the phrases heat up. Too late in the journey a torch endues me with

shadows I have made up nothing all day nothing has been changed choosing between ferry ports at the last moment

not to mention this tonguing which takes the bit between the teeth. I am just going to put my head round the door

nothing like a change of thrills. There could be no doubt this part was played by a separate instrument. I await my turn which approaches fast

thats what life used to be like kneeling down to receive everything in the first few seconds. Asleep under the horse chestnut

it is always a question of layers there is a ravine I am waving all at once you retract your claws

where the blood has turned. I love you systematically but time is against me write everything you know I am not coming back

Becky Cremin

a positional monologue

first position: linear pleasant move foot to breast clamp form. healed.

Pane- since ago they lash, each gave every they were in Empty: the other day whether, come to leave blank Confess weighing, the weight orientation. Stands. Dictionally her O. This though tremble across the withen crossed arms beaten down an.

second position: flowing placentan encroded as strike. length.

Opened emancipation kneaded and arched Apart. Opened. Bent. Sided working a heightened palm to sided thighs break sensitivity. Barefacedness un hung bitten lines hold nape Break. A paired: stand directly here. Firmness. Prudently between a heaving right hand action Such hurried ups and downs brought for Taine, the impure. A part furred.

third position: cannot as hand on neck speaken. a front.

Calves rest. Oblique had determined mine stiffenly. Rosaie. Headed restling on the verge. Known the. between the knee Tendered: fall. Rough sole testing floor. Into front

transition.

fourth position: grate palate curving the rub. bitten.

Battlement. My longings have not strengthen for the. Able, ought to rise. Hesitantly. A strand. Draft leg is placed on the ankle, Entrails lessen against that ripped cons that tore Blind opened. folded. That on point touched ever so

bended.

fifth position: adjustment lessen at base array to the tilt. reach.

Reduction. Like and practiced leap. Drawn faced. A strutted rise, silence the weight. Heaving closely panted lowering. Resonate lowering the curtly embrace, Fingers closely. In tighten, as balance, heaving between epi, Blushing clavical off. Of its hoofs sliced.

Justin Katko
The Superior City Song; A Fragment The cope of heaven seems rent and cloven And on our shoulders wings are woven. We will be the sisters gold, Ass cut from inexible mould; And we will be the brothers too, Ass cut out the plexiglass blue. Jaya radha-madhava, kunja-bihari Jaya gopi-jana vallabha, giri-vara-dhari * Amalthea Innoxia Omphalos umbraculate, By Finite Love determined, Be the tetragrammatinium, Planar irrefragabilium, Monohyalopteric synthra, Curtipenduline unyieldamenta! Bear the aetiological discharge of the potamic Winja As the blue Hyblan esh is crystallised in aming air, And as the shredding of the spectral ice Indefatigates the clitoral super-positional device, Of the lila rasant impressed on dirt by Holikanthos fair. Oh melittinic angle! Oh rotating slime! Oh bone tridentiferous! Oh white tiger wine! Upon the mysteries' revelation beyond nitude, they perish. The super city is the expression of an exponentially gerish Secret Govardhan germ, whose odoriferous throws 'Long Winja's bio-rampart strictly undisplay our clothes, To grant us our most true pursuits in purity's amative groves. Oh Hy-Brasilean caravan! Oh teradynaeic inching! Roll on! Oh wyrmlets of the pirastick trove, Initiate your transforms on the peirametric fencing! Oh cooperative parallelogram! Oh skin blue splashed vermilion! We enpostulate thecastically in the graptoptilian shade, Clad in clade thebaic, cognate by the panacean truth itself, Angled launching at a spectre of our wildest brain, To dizzy py hy through the two-stain of a geolytic shelf. Squamato-t will ourselves be In woven ion shields invective, Whose Achillean fault is the Illimitations of our contraceptives. In love we course through hyper-formless gauntlets, The variegating substance of the cosmetic fountlets... [To be continued]

Justin Katko Cambridge, Spring 2010

Elizabeth Jane Burnett flamingo the following daylight has been booked for your flight over urban as site of safety. you have a choice of accepting or accepting the choreography of a person living in a camera forced to dress up history with shitty little break ups of pearls vanishing necks or points or

flaps

flamingo: a young, unconventional or lively woman, a mallard or a partridge opposite you on a train can tell as much about you from your underlining just beneath the shoulder-blades some scattered dry-eyed lens or shutter clicks inverts *switch species at the last minute decide* inside pretty little cabinets, jellied up and ready for the next ditch lost or misplaced attention folds, curls in its petals, prepares you for flight over urban as site of storage temporary inflatable sink - you have a choice of accepting the following flight off-page migrate from third person travel long-distance from bird to bird-watcher home to nest will split

peep/parakeet a romance of lifted shins begins cropped thumbnail sequence is erotic retro glue in body flop can't connect w/century stiff in silence of birds as filters everything sold about sky drops as limbs forgotten afterwards nothing views easily rinse out inconsistencies in looking like our parents did at slips as accidents instead of parakeets flying out just as you look in this we can believe in this is what follows: the same thing only smaller ankles repeating sky to blue as heart to bodies scaled up or down as required

Beware St. Toads cracked chimes! I heard him scream

(from the Lovecraft and the Jenny Cobbing)

Stephen Mooney

But the bird told of vaster parts, that under

(from the Lovecraft and the Jenny Cobbing)

His solid flesh had never been away,

(from the Lovecraft and the Jenny Cobbing)

Little the fears of forty centuries meant

(from the Lovecraft and the Jenny Cobbing)

At last the key was mine to those vague visions

(from the Lovecraft and the Jenny Cobbing)

Greg Thomas

mem anxious shifts of rhythm months pass and we don't speak

Mendoza

beth [a house] the hollow of the hand a door he [a window]

si is written on face is sharp is bite acute

Still winter, perhaps. I forget the thread no, there we were,

legs [yello / rust] thigh on thigh arched in exhibition

emerge and slip . your hair, braided

exit against harsh winter light. decomposing towns no longer

gleaming

southbound

lines / askew

we love the reverb we echo in your sounding chamber

I am not a song writer. I hang from a single

chord, crude and darkening

drifts and sky, undulating inarticulate lines my

indolent lips mouth on your throat

my

North. Star. Fixed. Polaris and I moth,

dance / girl shining in Pale Brindled Beauty

we ache like fire and the Heart of a Bird I am holding the smallest part

Still, winter perhaps. empty intrusion

surge and slit this dress / awakening

she curves her hip arcs in the spectacle

Girl cities fall from death devastating history

Out

without memory I am nothing; solitude oblique in approximate

relief voyeur / dislocated

waves of agony. her brilliant star draws us to perfection

these lines have not Queens, the final thread obscured with

wit and spiral bound from the origin of all disclosure.

winter skirts, revolt. without memory I am death,

no longer illuminated by the sun still | winter | perhaps now you, glorious, in magnificent

parallel arise from my true self as if you are,

slmendoza

Rob Holloway MORTMAIN For I am composed of calculation, and little holes - Jean Day Once lit from below the Woodpecker revealed as gardens smiled by road crews awaiting feet raised lackadaisically aloft to tread what light each sound per bolted day presents as evidence of a vacuum by any other laws the mirrors a man sat stolen and relaxed into cool and pliant focus drops no present fist of floor nor sky to lug back wrong those delirium birds our silent dancing films burnt true.

Once naked rolling men and traffic in high-stacked pots of traders tongues on paths cut short by broken sand think not how windows ribald glints to an eyes electric rub hold fast go crack each slender voice out loud and pass my shadow parts around to suffer cats sharp claws to blind post-tantalised by outputs weft thread sight but not the breeze with fire in skies hang black on black and feed.

Once electric, furs reverse (more holes for my bed!) so best mint the lips of lifting rocks the rising gantries lazy crush, pond the spit the print refracts and, cogged to churns of a chronic moon, map the birds and I post-panoptically i.e. unhook the crew from sea front loot and pump them through a precinct of description. Trees honking miserably, I am their equal (ants too are now beached) sat dabbling in emergency wrestling stares with men, too bloody from scraping bird

shadow off the pavement of my diction to repose in the forehead of your drone. Once honey summer deaths give suck to riots of town and butcher, and words stacked high by ears of thought on heaps of fleas do dully strive alerts to birth, ride not my forelegs fulsome lash nor thread umbrellas through my only organic nose(!) but go break step before my stall or arm, you rumour of blood soaked in any tiger, not just any bear mirage.

Trees emerging from this households burp more abstract bikes than revolving plots are bridging barrels with speculators and a board. Hung, the garden outstretches a vegetal roof if my hands collaging water clench but is this how a hoof forms a pond? Go entry level lemon membranes pulp in ranks the paper dockside rectangulate the liquid bulk and steam the forest open wide some apter scaffold brunt replies in answer to the question of an ocean.

Once vents released customs into stream now with patents I perambulate the quad. Trees violating just offshore squat in residues of interest vests viscous relations instuff fun or eat some vehicle vie with flesh lay violent hold to whatever scrapings of bone of Blocky Head my careenings vat, my fingers chub, for what sentence never failed to have lunch?

Hung with slow and regular log-bound breath, passengers in faces stand bold by, sweat dropping from their doublets on a man. Go read for days books sat inside him their pages several soldiers full are snares a fellow in red boots snaps go stroke his glittering scars! Once all small poplars hung in skys split girth burst flat will none squat in loves slowsinking reel, clasp day with hand yet fail to pump?

Trees (once car parks) eat better meadows. Hung in the distance, some ordinary green that might have become her lover! Go for two months without dreaming of chrome jets hanging ink in chains from the glow of our digital cocks! Once in private a hotel of male nurse build tries disliking grass by mowing a coal fire sands mahogany clouds to shower in their shavings (youd have thought every corner knew its name!) and burning a ukelele to the right of my questions, sieves its lifts through my finely meshed paws.

Trees, their explosions, he envied not nor prostitutes their inevitable dromedaries. Hanging both arms around her sort of Chinese roof he puffed at cheroots in spite of the gas-lamps, for there will always be a man berifled in the wardrobe, a pale-nosed woman catching sight of a bat. After rustling through the reactor and its dialectical fleas, the Duchess of Cornwall resounded like a head illumined by uranium! Trees beneath the cloister float down swollen streams successively, its rumoured, in echo of our dream of bringing back a head, a hundred or more, deeming fantasy hideous and of sorry and most rusty execution.

For mere mute transports are these ravages of passion, swerving out unevenly from under dugs like bullets reaching bursting being opened by a centaur cordially quickened in a lock-down of air. Go shut oneself up before racetime in neglect of your final oratory, for her negligee reveals a bare saddle and negligence is not my roaming american just jumping ditches for kicks in his high-action animals but her too whose name beetles bootstrap to his face, offering nothing but striking him not unexpectedly as explanation for the summer of their clothes.

Go think again of a slowed down demanding supervisory male given scope enough to remove the wings from the container ship of my angel once people have transformed post-prandially. Go adjust the angle of attack, or swing from sideto-side, either way repeat once more: truths culpabilitys whore. Once I return to the house, its singing I will not shield the sun, nor place my thoughts of you into a less than satisfactorily cleaned-up cruise ships pencil draw (or bed).

Let me forget to bring back my heart slapped up for sure but theres none better for skiing off that fat girder pile, and for all the good Ill be Boy Blue, alone full of fury and grace. For one instant dog-race glare, one chromatists indigo night, Ill shine my bolts and read up for days on how juggernauts wind through the pines. Once inside, the tree became meat coffee, honey, cheese, wine linen, fruit and more fresh people so we fed them everything and left. Hung, the skys of blue steel and Ill hold you between paper and a train

we who best triplicate after rain. Go let moons organise, let arms and their spectators grow steadily electrically fences get rounder and more green. For words knowing no known cure shout when walking, bomb a little wheat and look a little like me. Once, trees drunk on delighting in their hands, the light thrown unseen from their stilts. Hung dead for days the wallpaper peels bones, our people shrink even smaller, for the stillest most interests in my toes.

Once your coffee was a gazelle swinging loosely from the fruit of your eyes and their darker blue carriages, trees wrote on glass dunes with little stiff rocks, our pools trued sky into blue. Hung from a tree you said: Lick gold off the dollar (the gazelles were at lunch) its asparagus pie thatll clamp this desire when theyve rid me of straw, stamp floors with smiles post-municipal forgetting that for miles crotchets stroll alone outside noise.

John Seed

trampers arrive in twilight arc of mist air chill ragged and tanned and shelter without money

hawkers sturdy beggars footpads on the prowl a young thief narrated dog-carts wandering the counties selling brooms lines door-mats

travel for scraps enough you get for a kerchief seeking markets for their labour some London

stump bedsteads

half room time with curtain

motes lighted candle placed

neck an empty bottle nights merriment

which tales miseries are

calculate disturbing forces obstructions rough palms surplus population in any parish chargeable becomes removable audits the last place wanted

neighbouring under peril sent idle famished disorderly punishable vagrants vagabonds treadmill rents removed deleted transported bid adieu St Giles a season

fear gallows before their eyes higher walks straws floating

on tides destiny races Greenwich fair unlucky one said Im always

nabbed on Friday last time catched Monday leery lads first thing out of prison get kerchief get dinner

profits but merry enough what he is born to again reckless and dogged impossible to escape

May 1804 Wednesday morning about 5 oclock a young woman (17) left her work at the Smyrna Coffee-house St. Jamess Street walked through the Palace and into the Park and into the bason and was seen no more

till 7 oclock when her lifeless body was taken out

and nothing found in her pockets except some halfpence wrapped in white paper on which was written Fanny White Lambeth

vagrant acts helpless suffered to wander about flocked to its shores on coal vessels a return cargo wintry audits thrust on shore at night landed in obscure parts of the river exhausted faint making for nowhere in great bitterness of soul without stockings shirts shoes famished prison has no terrors stoneyard retreat from cold a heap of stones broken the previous day

as regards males for each entire day of detention

the breaking of seven cwt. of stones or other such quantity not less than five cwt. nor more than thirteen cwt. as the Guardians having regard to the nature of the stone may prescribe

the stone shall be broken to such a size as the Guardians having regard to the nature thereof may prescribe

or the picking of four pounds of unbeaten or eight pounds of beaten oakum or nine hours work in digging or pumping or cutting wood or grinding corn or

souls prison starry welkin

twilight Acheron the winter fields

asleep in

a far cry from

heavens end autumn tramping the counties the Bath Road night towards refuge lodging anywhere four ounces of bread ounce of cheese a man comes to it middle-aged finds it hard witnesses judges sentences separations bridewells treadmills County Gaol houses of refuge House of Correction silent systems other gaols expiation its soon done postscript sorrow ashes dusk

erased by the road new paths with pine needles altered walking along the edge of an escarpment voices I found an outside or limit to

JimmyCummins whenthereisonlyonethingleft [ 14 ]

leavingthelastoneblank theseed/rootofaconspiracy

isecondthenotion/imean/motion nointentionwithoutmovement fingersforcingeachkey

outofmemory floatshistory

wehaveneverhaditsogood FLASH

ideclare theinevitable

waitingforittoresonateandrespond FLASH stainingthepageiscomforting

Thenoiseofyou reflectionatnight

itisalreadyhalfpastten

andinthemiddleofitall ittimesout depictingvoice andfury

anddenyingdeath FLASH

thewarisover themountainisbeyond thefinalscenealwaysleavesyourwanting (moreorless) mymothertoldme IfIwasgoody,thatshewouldbuyme arubberdolly strike! w.intention

draggingmemoriesintodreams

repetitionasecho FLASH

QuotingfromJohnLocke FLASH

getonyourbikeshesays asifihadone! or anynumberofsystems all suitablefortransportation levels

reeling into

numbness/percentages

configurememory devisesandoutputs intrudinguponvoice [ 15 ]

thetrees [ 16 ] slowly turningover awaitingwinter

therain

begins

permeating myownshock

sliding fromthe tothe thewhistle goes andistop left rightsideofmybrain

tryingtocatchmybreath andsightina FLASH

eyeslookingdownward inthought myownvoice

lipsclosed

voicelessincontradiction hearing forthefirsttime thecoldnessofyourporcelainface

lookingup countlesslights

inshadesofyellow andwhite

abovetwoarches everyhorizonisfictionalised pacifyingsubversion

haventiseenthisbefore thedoorleftajar thevoice

bemoaningothervoices seeingpictures busts

inadverts whereslogansspeaktoautomatons itis?areyou? theantidoteforcivilisation

GivemetwentyminutesandIllgiveyouapoem Oratleastaparataxis Shovingadjectivedownyourthroat Howmuchmorecanyoutake? Oneintengomad!Oneinfivecracksup! Differentiatingbetweenparticiples Theselfandtheobject Mylistofthingstodogetslonger [ 17 ]

iamalreadywritingaboutyou butthisisnotsetinstone

watchingthelovepolice makesmefeelinadequate experienceisconversational

crowdsofpeoplegatheroutside butthereisnothinglefttoeat inrealtime

ifeigntiredness

runningupthewallrunningupthehill

refutingclaimsmaderetrospectively theprincipleofpleasure evaporates

myheartrate

blinkeredbymyownlids

theworldinnowadjustable

Allen Fisher

Human warmth

She felt buffaloed against extremes of cold and darkness pushed by forces and pulled by others in at one door flies swiftly out through a second a light of flame expands the territory of dominion against chimney and shadows a used but clean raincoat wrapped in tissue then brown-paper on a table with a cosied teapot arms around the back brings the chest forward and cheek against cheek quilted jacket and flesh hair before the garden door swings open a row of golden flowers with red squeaks on the edges a few moments inside the briefest moment of calm flits from sight out of the storm into it.

Human anticipation

Afraid of nothingness as a possibility afraid for the loss of the ever new gift of Being whatever gives fullness without end lost in the uncertainty and obscurity of history lived in common with other great nations afraid of nothing not even oblivion or the dross of historys rift without feeling whoevers gift pulls shout a stipend the cost in propensity and poverty of mystery riven in community and the bother to eat rations Imagine you feel the Moon through the wall and your brain hear the change of pressure and temperature freeze the grass certain that you sense the chemistry of leaves fall and watch from a distance the approaching cold.

Human prospect

In a row of connected walks northeast of commerce I hold out my hand check unstable turbulence a weighted railway a variety of tiles in excess 130 per cent of viable capacity not exactly random unnecessarily rational choices carefully repetitious they plan their garden extinction rate ten times sustainability for the next ten years really believe nothing adverse will ever happen each house section carefully different they may not be here in six months next door set against they wont want any vegetables next season the end of nerve connections they just kind of like to plan a garden in forgetfulness oblivious to excessive nitrogen removal already beyond viable boundary locked in the turkey neck of its own compacted tarmac and aggregate eighth-century Bagdad crushed motorsports crushed awareness.

Previous Human poems appeared in the online BLART, November 2010 and, before they were titled, in VLAK, Prague, New York and London, October 2010. I began the sequence, which I eventually titled Human poems, before remembering the translations by Clayton Eshleman (1968), Ed Dorn and Gordon Brotherston (1976) of Csar Vallejos 1939 Poemas Humanos. My sequence does not intentionally refer to Vallejos work.

Niamh OMahony

What is always is, works recursive un-reverted fought square hard pressed to lollop along blithely Squeezed to suppression, cast out, struck down

COMMAS

SAVE LIVES

three strikes and youre a false economy surely

Suck it all in and froth it out quickly Cutting it quick and fine riverslick, verdant Milk fricatives strictly gleaned Caught out and down the middle stretch voracious kicking up good smells and warm weather.

Finding tercet rests and filigree between lines open hands and adumbrated eyes reconcile, palliate the breaks and over-lever solder through the lanes

Keith Jebb

from like hypnotizing chickens push peoples heads down reality vision kills creativity comes into focus Johnny inhaling ceramic dust from tiny seeds says I do a striptease I say the text I boss the Somali fixer Im the will-gill take you up the bum the arse the shitter the turn. he says this. hes the peoples head I talk suck through no aliens on this time-line push Jimmys head down Johnny the planes wanting left to Angola passengers stare and they ride ratio on the shotgun. no aliens. I mess with the prerecordings cut-and-splice history is now as the presidents pauses the little deaths within each sentence Blackwater running the show as Xe (some chinese philosopher cooked up by a CIA Poundian because capitalism sees the funny side just no smile no giggle beyond the wet stretch of cloth across your face a serious operation on your skin removes what lies beneath is nothing you know what they want. sticking the probe up your anus with the style of a martian poet shags badgers behind the ha-has of national trust lawns while faber new poets sip bubbly on the terrace not knowing theyre next. And Johnny old queen saw it happen realtime the 80s again the oxbridge summers under dripping awnings smells of pimms leather and

dog the necessary fouling the flagstones cracked weeds breaking through skin of the city the no society the meat-head the look green shoots the. feeling a terrible nostalgia. Im all together in this paid tax for the rhetoric I couldnt un vote the big city skin of London flapping around me cat-in-awheelie bin culture clutching a pole on the tube spitting amongst the hissy-fits of i-pods coming apart coming unstitched he was there face an over grown 12 year old little smirk he cant wipe clean the lurch for the doors minding the gap we mind full of the gap where some thing happens opening in the skin I wriggle free from small croc escapes holdall back of the plane and every body rushes forward and only croc survives the crash gets macheted by a rescue worker whos bad this is plyboard wings strapped to arms 801 squadron flaps across the carrier deck stealth sub beached off Skye didnt see itself coming 24 hr rolling news coverage sponsored by cobra is my bad watching the light fall into the thames glints off canary wharf pryamid. well build a new cardboard city for the twenty-first century. and well rent it. Johnnys got a squat in kilburn Johnnys got weak verbs Johnnys got nobody no bodys got Johnny saw fox running the underground slipped off the platform onto the tracks and trotting

at the tunnels mouth and silently away. fox died. just smell of him now. just awk ward questions the great whiskers northern fox gone to earth in the capital never looks in the mirror.

Carol Watts

Found China 2 (2007) paper/ p/ pencil/ rope / r/ watercolour/o/r racle bones

Are these real returns. Chinese children raised in cities and at distances from cities. Who leaves in hope of work. Bent over fields of. Is it fathers who leave first, does she remonstrate with her mother. If you take them I can. The police chief buys all the children tickets for the new monorail. Do they understand the gift in codes of discipline. Not unaware of the risk in generosity. The constancy of flute practice and collective singing among rivals. Sometimes exact copies are erected of streets from elsewhere. Or these are streets that elsewhere will become. This membrane restrains a wild river. It is a law of nature imagined in 1919. Two million people are moved along its banks. Where ancestors resist relocation they are replaced. Mountains are reassigned according to the kilowatt, not always successfully. It has to be said there is a persistence in mountains. Does this comet burn in China also. What does it replace, the size of a world. It grows a firecracker tail to the naked eye.

Found China 5 (2007) paper/ p/ pencil/ bladderwrack/ b/ watercolour/ oracle /b bones

Sometimes the snow in Beijing is yellow and the sky is as blue as a drum. Do you feel a diminution of physical space, a closeness of queueing hearts. Bicycles bud in asexual reproduction, emerge from a thousand year old eggs. Food prices are rising. Pigs are hit by blue-ear disease and local officials are worried. Do you have indoor bathrooms in Yuer Alley. Are these polyps fit to burst or new mondial nerve synapse systems. Firings of connection build a billion branches overnight, all now requiring heat and illumination.

Rosa van Hensbergen

The Moths For one that got lost

I. Not before they informed us, we went going, Gently flushed

II. Inter-collating dust

III. The Moths? one or the life of anybody

life in general.

or { Moments of Being or { The Waves

IV. Nor before we, Or was it one, (Riving the black-hole weave To where light endemics) Pluralize

V. Yet to breathe & coagulate or { Sum it up

VI. or { Collate data, From ones month, & anybody long Though greater than 1.1 (As wings average tear-span) Though minuter than This estimologists fingernail (As circa the line) Not before we learned One Moth won

VII. The Moths beat & summoned The Ocean Briefly To ear

VIII. Can you hear her, Moments like here, Where lunivers est absent? Or where life in general mis-marched? Or where finite particulars Ought get shopping listed In re.Place of Scrapbooks?

IX. Fore in pages, We have swell Of Nightshade sooty, Where across us, Moths Sync one With any body or { The Waves Sync gently One & any body

X. And thus inform us Of being lost

palmresidual heing eadwidth to appreciate b with hold now scatter middle breathdistance consider and to consider alllove tell eyes come between squeeze go a pskinknow arabola of kt nowing urn listen t ouch o t hings fast it isnt that we can d toes twist its more about sitting toddle f ire isso u p out pick up r egularity meld sad how try peal territorial time active joy noise Iwant noise bonerest s tareback Iwant to memory no time listenmoment held talk talk talk listen listen tie l isten tighten nightcough isto beenawhile rainwind tempertemper temper eyes sequence p ull mirror judge gesturecrowd slowspring shesheshe long particle vein glimpse breel partial beside amongamongstamong memory worry look attempting thetruth andworthnot lateatnight fear appeal in disinterest youngold sitepselide I have t consensual I want them to have it is risk-love touchfall this is mychoice theyare all blood beatfour will be onandon morningnight istobehere smile tug grist tobetherefor tonight soft lean- in
now

Aodn McCardle

Peter Philpott NOTING NOTHING

To say
nothing is right except by writing it outpours some hope acting through like a blind bird also a rite praying at this silence for we are a chattering ape our busy mouths always biting & sucking our hands agitating tracing out on this worlds great body how the fractual layers within us dislocate

& this brings it all into full being somehow? the lines turning like the lies spoken moves in some private game lensing or diffracting scattering the light like Friday night at the Mecca these rituals, these commands utterances ludicrous & fruitful

The shirts are in the garden too with the insects and the birds occasionally our sun irregular drifts of dirt Fewer ideas yet new forms sprouting & dying dried & decayed who couldnt feed on all this? Lets plant some simple words what takes & comes up forms and then flows scatters its own seed under the blue, the grey, the white

Lets write with this pen its words arent of course these things writing in blue on a small page stripping off the lines fearfully slowly they ooze down that page not this one calm and all at once a lying creation (like it all is) like a sleeping child like a childs hand cast and metallised an omen of death oh, the hectic and provisional slidings repeated & unrepeatable processes messy art of human making

It was the mazurka I heard sliding through the quiet rain of a Sunday morning everything grey and green dull ocherish days How joyful to write on this English spring that muddy slide out of death How perfect like a Radio 3 soundtrack to write so defiantly non-avant garde look! the bluebells are little tiny dots swirling into a numinous haze What is outside the text is mainly rain right now with some secondary drips and a lot of splashable deposition still inescapable as the pull of gravity the sheer shape of our poor tongue thus dropping us back here

*******

The enclosure opens up yes into a rush of silver branches What were looking at here oh, its something good (I know, well pay for this but this whole thing will help us we can get by now in a better way that is it will help us as we rumble our way to Christmas hey! lets swap photos of our best friends and out little brothers! all these people we will lose them now and youre thinking like this is some deep ironic game but no that would be so boring would trivialise our being because what we love cutting though it all can be that simple & direct

Bishops Stortford/London/Tuscany, March-November, 2010

Tom White

from My Camp
VI WAR PROPAGANDA

A Gentle course was pricking them deepe Socialists did markes of an art, that handle his foming bitt, his brest a Lord badge estimating results scord to the other side, Right in every Faerie soldier being worse than earthly craue the German force Vpon his ample opportunity to learn our Asse more white then snow taught us a blacke stole propaganda wimpled too from the very beginning Yet she much whiter, but the reply well

that, so inadequate a line from insufficient Queenes came Their scepters stretcht in this was Psychologically it was all wrong. from East to Alas I can in subiection held means and must, therefore feend with foule vprore in relation to a Dwarfe from Behind her our future must be the standpoint at his backe with an hideous storme attaining its objective cloudes propaganda at hand, A shadie groue for the security and the honour of the nation so broad, that heuens Despite views to trees actually exist, or rather it will have to exist so in they entred

arre trees an object Whose loftie them seemes foorth to be or not, has to be answered the birdes sweete harmony And they pass forward races disappear from their on this earth Pine, the Cedar proud and Poplar ideals do not Eugh the benders will aesthetic considerations must be set aside The Laurell Poets forlorne shaftes Nature knows nothing of wits not their owne races, and their value diuerse doubt they ideals are of secondary importance Led with delight, they thus beguile the way aesthetic ideals will the struggle they threaten too and fro, That is effect first was highfalutin talk aesthetics, etc woods to lead about the most ruthless methods that beaten seemd bare, Moltke stated that thing is to get in or out a hollow length the Jew stroke rash cultural perfume I better wot standards of war propaganda this is no place for liuing

God

men you German utility Dwarfe men were good and Beautiful but (quoth she wood I read of those who know how to use it. foule disgrace To the educated intellectual classes? Or to the

Yea perill through form and Fly fly (quoth The advertisement poster The fearfull meant accordingly to impress wandring wood, this This is the Therefore beware then this place to do with you returne with those who wish artistic display something that different from the poster backe public attention to foot To stay the steppe, ere. Errours above the heads circle youthfull knight could not for ought be staide, These slogans should be his glistring armor looked stereotyped Halfe like a serpent But th other hand they quickly forget on horribly

VII

THE REVOLUTION

the beginning had swollen. One could judge the effects step by step. Gradually our wilgesias began just in the way there was. To be efficacious come from performing and gefrunon all sorts for the sake of that. But what were the people doing? I used to ask myself which will end this process they whipped up the flagging and fanned the fires! How their marvellous aptitude hammered into Meanwhile Nothing, or worse than. Again and again I was wealdend into my hands, instead of those dealing some nigger or other in another sphere. I was a being without one among some variations in the form of it. The story was that last indefinitely: the prospect was fainter, the wyrfa not worhte. Generally speaking sections where every effort was made to stir grew quite noticeable. This was something more than omission; for sooner or later not only were bound but consequently also in this direction Beowulf began eodcyninga, rym gefrunon, hu a elingas ellen fremedon. In a similar way, exercising effect. There was now no further necessity for the form. The whole front ought to have been. The man who at one moment ceased after a few moments and went about me between this and stood firm, ceding a little then taking it back, an almost endless period. I could hardly imagine what it looked like. And then this grousing. No, nothing else in the others was quite general. But a couple were in this process. One was a slight one as manifestation. What could be? Who and what and actually in evidence. The impression was purposely in order to spread some extent those old characteristics were staffed by Jews. Towards the end of it seemed as if we had got over the worst and were gradually becoming a wonderful effect for it

was possible to break through somewhat quieter than usual. That was the calm. Just when streamas were being made bundenne, then at that moment would have been fulfilled. For want of internal objective of the establishment of holmclifu healdan scolde and the other. Namely lasted a time in the first place. What for if people were these enormous ? Because conferences followed a prudent silence reigned. Their opinion of the necessities it would have to in the long run be delayed lay prostrate.

Philip Terry

CANTO VI
Regaining now my senses, which had zoned out At the sight of that old rou shagging his student New wretchedness and new sinners retching I see, wherever I move, wherever I look. I am in the sewer that is Square 3, Fast food joints all around me, Knee deep in chip cartons and half-chewed kebabs; Men in boiler suits hose it with jet sprays, The dirty water fills the air, like Irish mist, The stink never leaves the place. Theres a stoner wearing dreads and A filthy poncho, with a three-headed bulldog on a frayed bit of string, The dogs six eyes are bloodshot, the three mouths Black, the three bellies swollen, ribs poking out Its like something out of Harry Potter. Spilling from Food on 3 and the SU bar, Hung-over students howl like mutts slipping and sliding in the filth. When the slimy hound got a sniff of us, He pulled on the leash, snarling, showing his fangs. Berrigan, my guide, bent down slowly, Without taking his eyes off the beast, and, spreading wide his wiry fingers, Shovelled up a fistful of spewed-up sausage, And beans, flinging it down those gawping gullets. As a famished hound, hungering to Be fed, quiets down when you bring out the Bonzo, So the filthy heads now ceased their barking.

We walked across this slippery square Of shades squirming in the soup, When one of them sat up suddenly: You there, on a tour of Hells kitchens, He beckoned, do you not remember my face, For you were born before I expired. I said: It may be the torments you suffer have disfigured you, I cant put a name to your face, But my memory What it was is not tell me who you are. Your own city, he said, so full of hate It overflows the pan, Once held me in the fresh air above. Your people called me Round Nick And Im damned for always stuffing my fat face, All the bodies flattened here Share in my sin and in my pain. Nick, I said to him, I recall you now, And your sad suffering makes me weep, But tell me whatll happen, if you can, To the people of that divided state, And are there any honest men among them? And tell me, why is it so fucked up? Some blame the Act of Union, some Kitty OShea, Some the Brits, some the Prods, some the IRA, but sheer bigotry has played its Part, coupled with sectarianism And lust for power. Who knows when the violence will run its course? There are honest men, but no-one wants to know, For pride and hate and envy are the three Tunes the Orangemen sing,

They kindle in mens hearts, and set them ablaze. With this his dirge ended, but I answered: Tell me more, what of Rowlands, and Trimble, who had such good Intentions, Cathal Goulding, Michael Farrell, and the rest, Bent on doing good? Where are they? Do they taste Heavens sweetness or Hells tandoori? They lie below with blacker souls, If you keep on, you may meet them still. I speak no more. He twisted his great head towards me And eyed me a moment, Then rolled beneath the scum. Berrigan, my guide, then spoke to me: Hell wake no more till Donald Davie Blows his shrill whistle, Then the dead souls will put on Flesh once more, and face their viva voce. And so we splashed through the filth, Of goners and doners, Talking a little of the afterlife. I said: Master, will these torments be increased, Or lessened, on Finals Day, Or will the misery remain the same? And Berrigan: Remember your theory; The more a thing is subject to deconstruction, As Derrida says, the more monstrous Its pleasure, or its pain. We Talked of Foucault, and punishment, And Ginsters, till we came to a steep bank; There we found Mervyn King, mans arch enemy.

Gilbert Adair

PRfiFACE.
grtnore
The pond near [the unimaginably old thornJ is desuibed according to mensuration: "I measured it from side to side, 'Tis three feet long and two fect wide." Let me be excused frorn being particular in the detail of such things, as this is the sort of writing which has superseded and degraded Pope in the eyes of the discerning British

public...
grammtr I would like to rneet someone urho had read evsry word in those interminable seven pages. Ort second thoughts, I would not like to meet such a person.
glamour
[HJow about less talk of prophecy, of the enigmatic, of the ineffable ... we didn't want to be cellophane, or is it shrinkwrap?

&ITIS
ARGUED THAT THIS IS N. ot possible, bodily sense contrai?e delusion
deliquesce.

LISS&IFI.
t is snttrnct Sitri$S-

is&m&roJos
sittsnt

ttr

Qamn

Is this the wrap w/ double yiz. Flats enough Empties stories fast: & where when nuance Acts agh tis, A Hammer hammer casing toast!

Puff scaled ball Mallei Below

Creech springs repeat blue eden doors? Rust gaze Anticipate ailyin noes, Droning to come Galactic Shores?

Mouth was at Still where figures wait: Hard was call'd Gla4ng next ag.lug: Lips Peel'd offPipes: Whose shrill persists! Mouth hamp at Sacrifice on hold.

A face makes not for Endless Lists, Rut how or Awe bring it to masks:
To wish to woo Articulate, & Parlous trust for pausing Basks.

That is the single most stupid remark I have ever heard. The man must live in a cave.

But sign-reading as a way into a culture implies a systematic culture to investigate, that translation takes place between syilematic cultures.

Yet Blake,
studenl of prophecy that he was, knew that Aue and false prophets

alike claim divine inspiration and that the test employed 10 detemine th crcdibility ofthe prophet is whether his prophecy comes ar nighi or at noon.

Milton
An.illuminated^poem knowa-in fou copies. Title page daie 1g04. Two copies, on paper watermarked I 808, contain forty-five plates, eight of which are ftIl_page designs without txt A thild copy, on the same paper, adds five pages oftext (3, 4, lb,l8, 32tbut orits the Preface. The last copy, on paper dated 1815, omits the prefac" udd" orr" -,rr. page (5). The pressnt text follows the page.arangement of this copy.

-d

W double fizz. Flats flatten Empties stories fast: & where when nuance Acts agh tis, A HarDmer hatnrner casing toast!
Puffscaled hall Mallei Below Crctch spdngs repeat blue eden doors? Rust gaze Anticipate ailyin noes, Droning to come Galactic Shores?

Is this the wrap

Mouth was at Still where figures wait: Hard was call'd Glazing next aglug: Lips Peel'd offPipes: Whos shdll persists! Mouth hamp al Sacrifice on hold.

A faca malcs not for Endless Lists, Rut how o. Awe bdng it to masks:
To wish to woo Articulate, & Parlous trust for pausing Basks.

That is the single most stupid rcmaxk I have ver heard. The rnan nust live in a cave.

Ryan Ormonde

OVER LEAF their calves, for instance are eaten by eagles.

their skin. their fecund their fec gain their grave gravity as their peepers peepholes their the small of their contour centaur their the their tu their transport a tu air ti via duct their shortish, powerful legs their good eyesight eyes ight there their fur for grain of their as though people

their soft, split hooves their sure-footed feat their

OVER LEAF is not the Cingino dam in northern Italy.

is not to scale. is not affected by gradient is not affected by laws is not affected by is not soft by less by in-laws and large by loss

or rough or national

is not geographical is not a newspaper article

is not a crossword clue (Musically) performed by all instruments is not a train to is not via at

OVER LEAF goes the day

Not so fast, not so open, but the principle of repetition of the fact of the day the mutability and the mute ability of the day the plaintiveness of the past day and the plainness of the day unpassed Not so fast. An observation may be paper thin and never surpassed An observation may be all the day can say (all the day can say)

OVER LEAF is under observation.

This observation is unbroken by the day. The rule of this observation is the rule of day The light of this observation is the light of day This observation is open and opens

This observation exists as information. This information is open. This information is part of an open system of observation. This open system of observation is known

is known as the solar system

Edmund Hardy
Sentences: Fire Bombing 13th February 1945

I'm watching my height and speed and ready for the turning point. The rubble was on fire. This has to be done very exactly, because each squadron has been given an arc of thirty-two degrees. As we passed a narrow street behind the Altmarkt the Webergasse, I think we found ourselves pulled into it by a fierce undertow of fire. Anyway, we have to bomb on this football pitch. Suddenly my mother looked like she was flying away. So one aircraft bombs on that heading. The air was full of fire. And the next had to bomb on that heading plus four, so we're all going out on two degrees different so each squadron fans out in spokes of a wheel from that point on the football pitch out onto the perimeter of Dresden. We found our father and older brother by calling out their names and together we went back to the cellar where we had first taken shelter. The static water-tanks were filled up to the top with dead human beings, with large pieces of masonry lying on top of that again. Inside, I saw a pile of ashes in the shape of a person. Great chunks of burning wood sailed through the air, and sparks and flame rained from all directions. You know when you put wood into a furnace and it burns and becomes red hot and it keeps its shape with an inner glow but when you touch it, it disintegrates? First of all when you get into the briefing rooms the huge wall chart is covered by a curtain and everybody goes in and the doors are closed and the police are put on the outside of the door and the squadron commander draws back the curtain.

I didn't know who it was but then I saw a pair of earrings in the ashes. And he said, It's going to be Dresden.

Juha Virtanen

RE-SHUFFLE/RECYCLE/WASTE
1. ABANDONED LINES RE-SHUFFLED
above the wetlands on the tip of the tongue joyous

laughter was muddled by the crowds passing by

and having returned the letters sent by the alphabet

one consumed each and then the other in perfect

past tense / of the morning after one recalls only

the rotting fish floating in the morning mist and the

scorched grass underneath our feet / after taking

ones eyes out i poured milk over mine

2. RE-SHUFFLE REDUCED & RECYCLED

milk over our feet rotting fish underneath the wetlands consumed the morning after laughter letters the alphabet muddled by ones eyes past tense returned perfect above the tongue floating each other after taking mine the scorched crowds the mist passing by on the tip of the grass and having the morning out

3. REDUCED/RECYCLED WASTE
then only one sent in / poured in by joyous recalls

/
one was i

4. REDUCED/RECYCLED WASTE (LOST)

and of the and