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06.12.05
We’ve got some very exciting material for you this update: poems from Norman Finkelstein, newcomer Faye George, Joseph Massey, & Jen Tynes; photographs from Barney Kulok; & the usual assortment of picks & kicks. So dig in! Shouting: Team (version) NYC (+ Kristina & Kate); PBNY; NJNY; JP & E Philly; Team IJ; Syl; The […]
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A Hunger Artist
I think of Kafka’s man who could not find the food he liked, who could not compromise, who starved refusing the stuff of compromise — the dross. Turning from this, licking the salt of hunger, savoring it. Republished from A Wound on Stone, Perugia Press, 2001, with permission of the author.
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Pattern Poems
Main Gateways Where the path crosses the boundary into an important precinct — "made more sharp, more vivid, more alive" places of industry or craft places of law and judgment of civic life dwelling places of distinct groups, subcultures that yet reach out to the general populace "It will be there, it will be […]
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Zach Barocas, contributor
Suggested Reading Panegyric, autobiography by Guy DeBord Powers: Track Volume III, poem by Norman Finkelstein Uncertain Poetries, essays by Michael Heller My First Painting will be “The Accuser”, poems by Philip Jenks RADI OS, poems by Ronald Johnson Complete Writings 1959-1975, Donald Judd Eureka Slough, poems by Joseph Massey Often Capital, poems by Jennifer Moxley […]
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Why the Goose Went Back
I miss the scrape of spiked boots on the groundsel at evening, the iron creak and slam of the door. The stroke and pet of his hard hand gave the days their meaning. Jack, can you understand? In dreams I return beyond the beanstalk, fly to my old home in the clouds. Here it is […]
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Seven Mornings from Autumn and
I am saying I was shy about saving grace with my hands. Junket and junket is expanding — found out, even. Smell of hot radio. Something about kingdoms. I always felt old, violent or whatever. We drink to each other without listening. The evergreen does screen it. * You wet tree for them. I know […]
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from Lune Book
pulp mill steam plume falls up against dusk, the stretched red clouds • • • late day, mosquitoes drawn into our conversation • • • television light lies on the American lawn • • • kitchen window fogged where the moon rises red & round • • • sun’s still rewinding into sky the white morning haze