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“You slipped a poem under my door…”
You slipped a poem under my door — this is how poems once came to me — There was a ship sailing We had died together — Later we talked. You were yourself. I was mine. Our voices were like coral.
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“Leave out the face to make more curious…”
1. Leave out the face to make more curious this figure or place — it is a solemn turn the breath takes in aridity. But I thought reading your words of your name and the image of your mouth open and empty 2. He put his teeth into wood to test its music and was […]
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02.18.02
The Cultural Society is especially pleased to have an excerpt from Norman Finkelstein’s Track for you in this update. It’s coming out in a book from Spuyten Duyvill this month & marks the second such installment of N.F.’s long poem. We’ve also got new photographs from Christine Cody & Stephen Reeder. The March update will […]
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from TRACK
## Always at a certain point there comes an address: “Be patient that I address you in a poem, there is no other fit medium.” No other place where patience and desire may meet. # Place and medium destination and way relaxed yet urgent Acknowledgment: another to whom one speaks And there is an answer […]
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02.11.02
The Cultural Society’s publications can now be purchased online through PayPal. There is the minor matter of setting up an account with them but it takes very little time. Check out the publications page & do a little impulse shopping. You’ll feel better, & we’ll feel better too. Thanks again.
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“empty lot of the Red Steel tavern…”
empty lot of the Red Steel tavern distressed in halogen hush — a cinder-block building Shadwell the seller the dope from Amsterdam the dollar bill who marks who passes who would the fact police arrested amaze Shadwell so they wonder whether was killed the mayor seems to himself comromised there was the body you couldn’t […]
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“[Omnes ad unum interficiuntur]…”
[Omnes ad unum interficiuntur] fills the room trades immense for matrix hoof for noun its oblong remnants taste steely & distilled its pale marks left after the forage & made believe the bad heel blindly drew up boundaries & were so arrayed through the window the token thirst appears at dusk on a page w/ […]