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:
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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 thinking 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

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

(in response to Adrian Clarkes Eurochants)

Karen Mac Cormack

David Caddy

Signalled As Ox tongue

Scattered Tongue

Rank

When The Redstart Arrives

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 first 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 first selves
breaks the asked
wondering in lost
words drifting only
near her granite
her first selves
reaches out hung
another father expected
misunderstanding and texts
another father expected
her first 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 first 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, first 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 find a line with suitable enjambement.
Poetics or science? I can see it as placing simple but craftily-fashioned obstacles into natural flows of
language as garnered from Google using instruments of linguistic=scientific 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

a version of Paul Celans Die Engfhrung (Harry Gilonis)

*
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.
*
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.)

Chris Paul
Activism praxis form and the ecstatic

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

Steve Willey

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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go
tttt eeeee
gonnnnn
ttttttttttt
ffrrfrrf
ttttttttttt r o
eeeee
ro
nnnn
eenenenenenenene
nnnn
eenenenenenenene
ggggggg
ro
ro
nnnn oooooooo
eenenenenenenene
ggggggg
gororororoorrororo
or
rorororororooror
ro
oooooooo
ro
ro
gororororoorrororo
ggggggg rorororororooror
ro
ro
orororororoogggo
ro
ro
frrfr
ro
Qu
sesepuede
hacer?
Qu
puede
hacer? oooooooo
ro
or
or
or
or
gororororoorro
or
rorororororor
or
oroororororor
or
ororoogggogo
oo
gorroroorgggg
gg
go
frrrioiorfororf ggggtttttttt
go
go
r r
or
oo
rg
g
g
g
g
g
gg
ttt
ttt
tt
eeeee

tttt

quetengo
tengo
tengo
que que tengo

que tengo
tengo que
tengo que tengo
que tengo
tengo que
tengo que tengo
que tengo
tengo
tengo
queque tengo

fr
r

fr
r

rr
ri
i

quetengo
quetengo
tengo
que que
que tengo
que
que
tengo
tengo
que
tengo
que
que
tengo
que tengo
quetengo
tengo
tengo
queque
que
que
tengo
que
que
tengo
tengo
que
que tengo

fr
rr

rr
rr
o
rr
ri
i
ff
rr
fr
rf
fr
rf
r

b
tttt
gonnnnn
gonnnnn
eeeee
ttttttttttt
ttttttttttt
eeeee
nnnn
eenenenenenenene
nnnn
eenenenenenenene
ggggggg
ggggggg
oooooooo
gororororoorrororororororororoorororororor
oooooooo
oroogggogogorroroorggggggggtttttttt
gororororoorrororororororororoorororororororoog
ggogogorroroorggggggggtttttttt

fr
rr
io
io
rf

no puedo hacer nada

nocon
puedo
estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
con
hacer?
este fro

qu
putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
hacer?

no puedo hacer nada

estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
hacer?
nocon
puedo
con
este fro

putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
qu
hacer?

no puedo hacer nada

estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
hacer?
nocon
puedo
con
este fro

putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
qu
hacer?

no puedo hacer nada

nocon
puedo
estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
con
hacer?
este fro

qu
putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
hacer?

no puedo hacer nada

nocon
puedo
estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
con
hacer?
este fro

qu
putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
hacer?

no puedo hacer nada

estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
hacer?
nocon
puedo
con
este fro

putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
qu
hacer?

no puedo hacer nada

estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
hacer?
nocon
puedo
con
este fro

putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
qu
hacer?

no puedo hacer nada

estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
hacer?
nocon
puedo
con
este fro

putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
qu
hacer?

no puedo hacer nada

estehacer
qu
fro nada
puedo
hacer?
nocon
puedo
con
este fro

putapuedo
qu friputa qu fri
qu
hacer?

llllll

nono
puedo
nada
con
este
frofro
puedo
no hacer
puedo
hacer
hacer
nada
nada
con
este
con
este fro

quqqqququeueuqqq

eeeellll

frrriioioioio

lllleeemmmm

ioioiooioioiiii

ooooooooo

frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

mmmlmlmlml

ioioiiiioioioiiiioii

rrrrrrrrrr

ioooioioioioioioioio

llllll

rrrrrrrrrr

Qu sepuede hacer?
Quhacer?
sepuede hacer?
Qu sepuede
Qu sepuede hacer?

e s n o
e esl pelafro
r
fro a

no para

e l n on o
no no no no p no no no nro ro roro
o
e el
s nesoeln fro
n on o
e l n o nro
fro p r o
ror
o
r o p a frrff ioio
frrffrrioiioioo
ro fffrrrfo
ioiooi
fffrrr
rrioi oi parrra ra ra ra
r
r
r
fo
ioio
a o

r a
r a
ra
ppa n

e s
o
el el nfroo
el es
el pap
fro app nop
a
pap
p a
pap
frrr ppp ap
r a

frrrapp
r a
apa

ppapapappa

no no noppappa pap ap

pppappapa

ra ra rarr ar

rarara rara ra

nononon pa ap ap

rar
r
ar

o o o rara
o oooo
r a
rara
ra

non
ono
n
p a
a p
non ap
rrar
o
a ra
n orar
n o ra
no
pap ffffff
apa f f r r
pap rrrr
app
iiiiii

iii
iio
ooo

nono no no no rrara ra rar ra

papapapapapp ffffffffrrrrrr

iiiiiiiiiiioooo

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 down, 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 was 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 teeth, 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

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
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.
bended.

folded.
That on point touched ever so

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 inflexible 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 flesh is crystallised in flaming 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 finitude, 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-fit 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

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

Mendoza

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

Out

cities fall from death

devastating history

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

Jimmy Cummins

when there is only one thing left

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

!
!
!

Aodn McCardle
!

palmresidual!headwidth!
to!appreciate!being!with!
!
scatter''''''''middle'''''''hold'''''''now'
breathdistance!consider!tell!
and!to!consider!alllove!
!
eyes'''''''come'''''''between'''''''squeeze'''''''go'
a!parabola!of!knowing!
skinknow!turn!
!
listen'''''''touch'''''''fast'
it!isnt!that!we!can!do!things!
toes!
!
twist'
its!more!about!sitting!
toddle!fire!isso!
!
pick!up!regularity!
out'''''''up'''''''meld'''''''sad'
!
try!peal!how!
territorial!
time'''''''active'''''''joy'
!
noise!
Iwant!
noise'
!
bonerest!stareback!!
Iwant!to!
!
memory'''''''no'''''''time'
listenmoment!held!
talk!talk!talk!
listen!listen!listen!
tie'''''''tighten'
!
beenawhile!rainwind!nightcough!isto!
tempertemper!temper!
eyes'''''''sequence'''''''pull'''''''mirror'''''''judge'
!
gesturecrowd!slowspring!
shesheshe!
long'''''''particle'''''''vein'''''''glimpse'
!
breel!partial!!beside!
amongamongstamong!
!
worry'''''''look'''''''memory'
attempting!thetruth!
andworthnot!
!
lateatnight'
fear!
appeal!in!disinterest!
!
youngold'''''''stepselide'
I!have!it!
consensual!
I!want!them!to!have!it!!
!
risk;love'''''''is'
touchfall!
this!is!mychoice!
theyare!
all''''''blood'
!
beatfour!
will!be!
onandon'
!
morningnight!
istobehere!
smile'''''''tug'''''''grist'
!
tobetherefor!
tonight!
!
soft'''''''lean;''''''in'
now!

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

from My Camp

Tom White

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

Is this the wrap

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?

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

grain of their

their grave gravity as

as though people

their peepers peepholes

their the small of

their fur

for

their contour centaur

their the

air

their tu

tu

ti

their transport

via

duct

their soft, split hooves

their shortish, powerful legs

their sure-footed feat

their good eyesight eyes ight

their

there

OVER LEAF is not the Cingino dam in northern Italy.

is not to scale.
is not affected by gradient

by less

is not affected by laws

by in-laws

is not affected by
is not soft

by loss

and large

or rough

is not geographical

or national

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