Local Bands From Dublin 2009

Lately in Ashland

West Wind Review Release Party/Evening of Flarf/Emergent Forms Reading Series presents Mel Nichols and Rod Smith



Dust Bowl Avengers' (Nichole Hermance and Shawn Newman) first laundry room show May 2009

Blog Shift

THIS SPACE IS NOW FOR BUILDING THINGS
AS WELL AS GIVING TO AND LOVE


I am working on a number of projects:

The History of Keys and Locks
The Unicorn (a book length erasure piece for Maurice)
Cultivating Dixie
Immortal Something
I Wouldn't Have a Doctor

Hopefully these will emerge as self-published (or otherwise) chapbooks SOON.

AWP 2009: Or how I learned to love sports poetry and stop worrying about the Mayans

The Elements

Deeply I practice the closeness of hairbands.
I saw Jesus and he had a lightsaber and
I thought he was pretty so I became a
lightning bolt talking as a chicken, becoming
a villain.

We fucked in an odd structure made
of bodies, covering ourselves in
expensive lattes and intestines.

I pulled him up over my nose to
inflate his bag.

There was no smoking allowed
inside of him.

Stowage

This has to go dusty if there
are two women at least there
is diarrhea a cover that
is all books the texture of
rain on window of plane.

Perhaps it is windy an ally
following sharp metal that turns
and throws around the weight of a
continent and of ink.

It was a dog we road a heavy place
distilled by what your family is carrying
you to and at what level.

Shore/Despair/Beautiful Dark

When it is effecting you, the
stars not the cross become
mechanical getting away with
a scratchy throat hooding itself
a pleasurable exhaustion
with no ending words.

It's as though they picked
up as two making little by
little not a surprise but a
craving dirt taste
needing of a throat.

to "Aryan"

The city found itself with many
others whispering "pussy pussy
pussy lettuce lettuce lettuce
pussy pussy pussy lettuce
lettuce lettuce" with all the
prophets becoming
mayors, picking up the
tasks, not giving a damn about
the environment because they
are also Koalas walking
down the street like Santa.

Somewhere in the night we
picked up whaling but found
ourselves dragging monkeys
through fire smelling like
glue looking for lampposts
to hump and rooms to jerk off in.

In terms of mammals we
chose to ride dolphins.

Biting teeth is hard to you now
saying hello in more ways
than French.

Spooky Boyfriend #3

I have a poem up at Spooky Boyfriend.

So does Maurice Burford.

West Wind Review @ AWP Chicago

West Wind Review embodies the essence of the cowboys making love to cyclops mermaids in chicken coops while three-legged dogs watch through the holes in the walls. Every now and then, the dogs put their tails through the holes with the hope of receiving some contact. As you can see, it is quickly becoming one of the world's sexiest magazines.

WWR will have a table at AWP. We will also have a lovely display of Abraham Lincoln #3, Barnaby Jones and Lana Turner. Stop by, it's where the party's at!

Go Team

Barnaby Jones, edited by Jess and Alex is advertised at Press Press Press, along with some other really cool small press journals.

7 Things

specifically for but not limited to The Niffer, Bryan and Willie

1. I use to be a tan cowboy with boobies.

2. I don't need no Romeo, I'm my own loving one man show.

3. I would like to dream less about Disney action figures and more about people like Warren Beatty or 50 Cent.

4. I would like to flatter more people with my juices.

5. My mom said I am "made of bread."

6. I am trying to eat less meat despite by disdain for farrots.

7. I would like to include the following in my poetry more often:
Clouds, cherries, magic like a gypsy [repeat], fear, disappearing forces, sister dragonfly, shadows, secrets that spit in your face, love & trust & a piranha, some months, ohhhweewowweewow's, purple men, behind walls/space, things people are seeking, the phrase "what about me" written in such a way that people understand how high-pitched it should sound, brave eagles, things that move slowly towards the center, perfect moments, silence or lack of, windows [searching for], wise answers, things that haunt the people of India, seeds and genetic profit, food, the idea that we all have human rights because we all have seeds and the cycle of this because it's a fuckin' human right, and food-making ovaries.

West Wind Review

Coming Soon: West Wind Review 2009

Featuring

David Watson
Catherine Meng
Grzegorz Wróblewski
Eddie Watkins
Ryan Fitzpatrick
Elisabeth Workman
Kathleen Rooney & Elisa Gabbert
Drew Gardner
Andrew Felsinger
Carol Guess
Jen Hofer
Brandon Brown
Stan Apps
Shane Allison
Nico Vassilakis
Noah Eli Gordon
Joshua Marie Wilkinson
Kaia Sand
Brandon Shimoda
Meg Hurtado
Alli Warren
William Knight
Dawn Sueoka
Lanny Quarles
Michael Magee
Sandra Simonds
Jennifer Knox
Gary Sullivan
Rhoads Stevens
Kevin Killian

Check us out!

WCW on Rain Fade

Rain Fade published the three William Carlos Williams poems I have so far. Check them out.

for Elisabeth Workman

Above photo is from the cross-country road trip I took this summer. This fine mermaid was a former Olympic gold medalist for the United States synchronized swim team. She now swims in a tank in Las Vegas for fifteen minutes every hour or so.

Lactating Mermaid Apocalypse

title phrase by Elisabeth

Alice, you're a lactating hippy who
spends too much time on youtube.
You look like the lovechild of
Obama and Celine Dion but
with a twisted lip and no
nipples.
Oh god, now you're. . .
Alice, use your shirt to clean
it up. . .
Well yes I know I'm inside you
right now but do you have to
keep talking about the transnational
apocalypse and The Little Mermaid II?
I know you want children but can't
you wait until I'm not inside
you anymore?

And just to set the record straight,
you did not "draw me into
swirling waters with your
swamp of pleasure."
I met you at Starbucks.
You said something about cows
to the barista.
I said I had a nightmare
about the apocalypse and
flying wooden cows.
You said "the Four Horsemen
of the Apocalypse ride towards
me on the storm"
You said "in an ideal world,
everyone lactates, even babies."
I didn't yet know
that you
were
serious.

The Lower Half : )

Linh Dinh stole a poem of mine and posted it here.

for Nichole Hermance

Equator Guinea OR
The Mental Hygiene Movement

It is not like the 80's again. She sings "open" with the sound of Connecticut breasts. Was poetry named after Poe? I mean like did the word not exist before him or did he get picked on at school because he wrote with a name like Poe, so closely related to poetry.
(careful analysis)
poempoetpoetry
poempoetpoetry
poempoetypoetry
poetpoetrypooooem
poememmpoEMTpoetrytrypoe
pooemtrypoopoeTry

I believe that it is children who will once again save the world from strippers who are spotting. I heard you can get pregnant from rolling around on someone. If I continue rubbing mint between my teeth will they turn to pickles? Do horses curve and push real good? I wish they never came here with those holes. There is a tribal headache in my left forearm. Dear Buffalo, I will not eat you, nor will I pretend like the universe is anywhere but in your eyes.

Breathe when she breathes

Alice Notley reading "Grave of Light"

for Alma Rosa Alvarez

I Crafted This Light Out of Center

On average the Gods hold roughly,
ourselves, such binging folklore,
Such humble whining limbs
Strong at sunrise to cluster speech. . .
He'd duet nothing
We come in tenths
Breeding deer
Playing an iron-like honor song-
For Harlem had hands of a great flattening.

Original formatting taken from Jean Toomer's "Storm Ending" in Cane

for Jimmy

I'm a Snowman I'm a Jelly Embryo

My bones My slowness to approach
owls My war against the millions of
jars My belly has won jewels
It is now December I am warm
in the way of banjos not the
way of laws
Rows upon rows of us now
counting through hallways a
different form of waltzing as
some say "scissoring" Oddly enough
we walk through We buy a burger We
comment on the echoing of
Australia or the Cape
It is now the coastline with
free boxes of overalls and
bird's nests
The consistency is more
like Kenneth Goldsmith not dust
This is another eye seeing thing
Another one oh well she can
fly
she can make Jesus in her
pants
Not like just on Sundays We
are now sailing
eating cheese off strippers
Your mother was a motorcycle
That much we know
It is now Monday The piano
is well The kids are well
The lawn mower drowns out
the sounds of lovers in a
bathtub My arms are for
drying so what are you doing
up in that tree
"Come on body let's go party"
It is now a New Year
I broke my arm
It is now yesterday Someone
invented nouns to invent green
and blue to filter out the
difference between the Beatles
and pop music
But who's going to shave me
There's no soul in the liver

Poem

New Year's Resolution: Convince everyone to move to San Francisco next year.

New To The Writing Blog Scene

Tara Rose Crist

Mark Butterfield