Mar 27, 2006


I go nightly a shriveled monk
to the forlorn interstice
of the mirrored halves of mind
wherein is seeded the third, an awful
flower that will bloom in the skull.
That fall, marked by a twitch or shriek
& limned by the red froth that bubbles
up from the chasm that creeps
from our birth. I am alone in the darkness
of my own eyes, fettered by the sticky
fog of sentience, that mist that fills
the impossible bed with elbows & guts.
White & cold, the always wind
that will blow the dreams from our sleep.
A compass that points forever
at the zenith, a still point, pulsar-
sized full stop, that needle that hovers
day in & out above our spines.
These wreck the flesh, the membranes
of the disappeared--the ones who walk
our air without eyes or sex, who gather
at the mirror when there is no light
in the room, who know what mover moves
the nesting wheels that will propel
our individual fates. Praise,
for the dumb arms that will pull the bag
over our heads & seal the rift
with the blue wax without mass
or shape. Praise, for the mouth
that will end words, each curse I hurl
at ether as the clasp of days closes
end to end. A bracelet of each, week
upon week until the good right arm
will cease to bend. Praise, for what will
make of me a lamb, mane & nape
husked & tossed to the chiming winds
that move upon the brain in emptiness.
Follow the faint arrow etched on each
dark wall, into a ring that laps the arc
of our one bitter sun, into a sunless shade.
A thing like a circle with no name
that makes & unmakes. No word
for love or hate--a sign that is a bone
& a blip of rain, a sea that ebbs
under no moon & with no floor below.

Mar 26, 2006


Back to back with the water.
Akimbo on the taut surface here
where there is surface alone.

Cells plumb the murk inside
where lurks the want
that will raise fingers of turf
from the stony core below.
(Taupe shell
of an almond)

Here get:

40 winks 40 lashes
40 days upon the water

& God moves upon these, typical:
the dopplered drone of a marching band
when there is no marching band.

The surface bends to the Word,
black mirror that mirrors
the spangled firmament (sequins
on a dark plush dress). There is
no dress. No will
or want.

No archipelago dumpling-dripped
on the plastic depths, no face--
but motion. The surface moves
to forget the sky, the word
written in water with the knife of
God. No knife. No water:

Scapula parentheses.
(A surface ) Turning
away from you.

Mar 24, 2006


Not-yet-spring blooms
as the Cyrillic at Brighton

Beach, before
the quiet sea, humped

by freighters & on the street
all is twitching stillness

until cab wheels
burst a water bottle.

Our noble star
emits the colors of the zodiac,

speaking to the ground,
tell me

where the carriage horses go
at night, divorced

at last from their nameless
burden. Their eyes atticsfull

of pine needles, light
that shifts through canopies.

All must take it easy sometime:
the busy moths, shiftless

everyone. Cut
bait & sit on a milk crate,

take it easy--the black boats
lumber through the salt,

the air distracts
hammerers of nails, let all subside

to wanton artifice.

The early room & the stink
of the paint, the papers.

a little lamp of brass
a little monk made of glass.

Mar 19, 2006

I have been busy laying out My Spaceship. I am very happy with the way it has all come together and I hope the finished product can be as stellar (no pun intended) as I'd like it to be in keeping with the stellar quality of the work. I am in need of some trimming advice: e.g. about how accurate can a printer get when face-trimming a thick-ish booklet? I need to get pretty close to the margin, and I'm not sure how much space to account for for the trimming. Also, does anyone have any experience with sewing covers to already-trimmed "guts"? Ideally, this is how I'd like to do it, but I don't want there to be too much discrepancey between the cover and the interior. Any suggestions in these regards would be appreciated. Fanx!

Mar 14, 2006

Love to everyone. That said, what's up with all of the little AWP gender-pods? You dudes are freaking me out a little. I mean, dudes dig groups like chicks dig war, but I haven't seen that much splitscreen binary action since the 'ol Superlatives. "Most likely to diss the lyric I." To quote Jordan D. : I'm just saying. Could be sour grapes or maybe-I-am-that-reindeer angst, but I was stuck in Queens & Brooklyn, like, teaching. Anyway...moving along....

Mar 11, 2006

"People thought I attacked everything, but this was a game. We were young, we were having fun with our bonemarrows. After all, this is not a piece that attacks. Perhaps in this game we make more of ourselves than in works that are falsely weighty. A poet owes it to himself to be a very grave person, and to take a light attitude out of politeness. But often a poet is a light being that assumes gravity." --Jean Cocteau

Mar 6, 2006

A reading I was supposed to give at the KGB bar in April fell through. (Either that or they realized who I was and ixnayed it.) Consequently, I don't have any readings scheduled for the Spring or Summer. Which kind of bums me out because I like to bring it to the people. If anyone in general environs of New York or easily bus-able proximities is looking for readers, let me know.

Mar 5, 2006

Tardy Blogroll update. Added:

DIY Poetics (Aaron Tieger)
Joeblog (Joseph Torra)
The Screenplay-Novel Manifestoes (Finn Harvor)
Softer White (Michael Carr)
Suzannagig-Jig (Suzanne Nixon)
They Shoot Poets - Don't They? (Nick Bruno)
And back from the dead: You Doo Right (Mike County)
Boog City 31



Our Music section, edited by Jonathan Berger

--"Casey Holford is the missing link between lesbian folk, DC punk, '80s
synth-pop, and classic rock. He's the link that makes them all seem like the
same thing in the first place," writes Dan Fishback in his cover story on
the antifolk musician.

Our Features section, edited by Paulette Powell

--"The Swedish ambassador and his wife enthusiastically hosted an event to
showcase Sweden's premier cartoonist, Martin Kellerman, and his new
collection of strips on Fantagraphics. It was surreal sipping wine and
munching hors d'oeuvres at the Consulate General of Sweden with the usual
crowd from the Museum of Comic Book and Cartoon Art," Powell writes in "It's
the New Golden Age of Comics."

Our Printed Matter section, now edited by Mark Lamoureux

--"This is essential for Magi's project, which is driven by her concern that
nature writing has become a genre of ineffectual and homogenous propaganda
rooted in the accepted tradition of destruction," writes Mackenzie Carignan
on Jill Magi's Cadastral Map (Portable Press at Yo-Yo Labs).

--"Lasky's work has many examples of this edge set primly and perhaps
affectionately for us, with a light enough touch so to be nonchalant, with a
dark enough undercurrent to sit with us, to get under our skin, to haunt us
in the empty spaces that it inhabits to perhaps(hopefully) shock us out of
our complacency by reminding us that it's there," writes Laura Carter on
Dorothea Lasky's Alphabets & Portraits (Anchorite Press).

Our Politics section, edited by Deanna Zandt

"Midterm elections will hit in 2006, as well as our opportunity to elect a
new governor. I beg of my fellow spin doctors out there: please, please,
PLEASE show us some vision, hope, and positive messages for this year. We
can be anti-this and anti-that forever, but we'll just keep losing," Zandt
writes in My Wish List for 2006.

Our Poetry section, edited by Dana Ward

Cambridge, Mass.'s Michael Carr with Bust and apparition

Her babyface tylenol misbegotten
trivial principles of referral won't appreciate
deaconess mint. The yellow pages now was my
second choice

San Francisco's Brandon Brown with I Want to Play Catch with Bill Luoma

I went to plough cod with bilge lunulae.
yeah, I did plot cons with dirge salespeople
spear my kneaded breadloaf and I'll recline
and drink beer‹I need hemlock to unwind

Boulder Colorado's Logan Ryan Smith with Narcissus 2000

when narcissus was careful with it he carried his mirror
around in public and asked what others saw in it
he carried it around but couldn't care less what others saw
in the mirror when there came the celebrity of the future
upon his reflection and he was confused

And Straight out of Kensington, Brooklyn its Nada Gordon with Porpo-Thang

The porpoises fling up their
orange underthings; swaying
in the wind, their heavy rotation
is brief and horrifying,

Art editor Brenda Iijima brings us work from Sue Coe, who has pieces in the
collections of many major museums, including The Metropolitan Museum of Art
and The Museum of Modern Art in New York.


And thanks to our copy editor, Joe Bates.


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the following locations:

East Village

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Anthology Film Archives
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Cafe Pick Me Up
CB's 313 Gallery
Lakeside Lounge
Life Cafe
The Living Room
Mission Cafe
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
The Pink Pony
St. Mark's Books
St. Mark's Church
Shakespeare & Co.
Sidewalk Cafe
Sunshine Theater
Trash and Vaudeville

Other parts of Manhattan

Hotel Chelsea
Poets House


Bliss Cafe
Clovis Press
Sideshow Gallery
Soundfix/Fix Cafe
Supercore Cafe

Mar 1, 2006

I am extending the My Spaceship deadline to March 14. For the your safety and the safety of other passengers, please do not hold the door.