Category Archives: Poems

301: A Memorable Fancy – XXXIV

The Reading

The poet’s reading began. He told them how he came to be there in the fishing village by the sea, of his life’s work in poetry, and at some point he was no longer chatting with the audience but reading his poems, no one knew exactly when except now he paused for nods and smiles more often; and none could tell when one poem ended and the next began, or why.

Afterward, Jesus asked the Twelve what they thought. One by one they offered their views of what the poet had attempted, how well or ill he did, and to what extent what he attempted was worth attempting.

Then Jesus said “You have all spoken of the man and his speech; but poetry is a way of listening, not a way of speaking.”

They that heard him were amazed, for he spoke as one having authority, not like the critics.

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170: I Am Not Making This Up

Mission statements of two literary journals:

“[Journal-name-1] endeavors to dynamically engage the precarious interface between lyrical expeditions and conceptual economies, between experiential risk and critical clarity, between an ethics of event and an aesthetics of representation. We encourage cross-genre pollination, intermedia hybridity, and interdisciplinary dialogue. This interpenetrative space serves as a repository for theoretical and imaginative explorations, as a forum for contemporary cultural concerns, and as a springboard for developing innovative pedagogical tools.”

“[Journal-name-2] is concerned with reading as a process, the productive chaos of investigative poetic work. These acts of attention explore the close listening inherent not just in writing but also in being written. Inspired by Whitman’s assertion that “Reading is a gymnast’s act,” we see readings as embodied, interdisciplinary responses that engage with one’s environment through ekphrasis, phenomenology, queering, conceptual multiplicity, density and difficulty. We seek poetry, prose, articles, and readings that address these concerns in contemporary avant-garde, experimental, and innovative writing.”

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45: “The Man with the Cinch Up”: Found Poem – III

The following appeared in two consecutive junk mail pieces I received yesterday. They seem to have something to do with Zola; or perhaps not.

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world criisis

Behind him and the door. So long as he did not at the background of grimy warehouses and leaden whispered words came so softly that they were by my side. (they are sitting thus when the hatch and a wretched and insane expedition is this.

worlld crisis

With its whitewashed stone houses huddled close written on the astrolabe, and they all agree that looking round for the man who had a cinch up on and the fortune of the rougons so you potter his state would not remain in this confederacy.

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19: “The blue umbrella has been composed”: Found Poem – II

The following arrived in spam email. Here it is, unaltered except for the addition of some line breaks:

“The practick part, he ought besides the keeping that had saved

he is my friend, then,

said he was not the little reserve which he exhibited

then fight with the sons of pandu,

what reverses a wonderful facial ugliness.

He had, however, been trading with Indians.

The expedition was of such a fate,

that fierce bowman shooting came from behind the palms.

No I was to wait for not unknown to thee.

Do thou, however, instruct as the last fire company passed,

the blue umbrella has been composed.

Thou art he whose dancing it is not good to live long in one place.

Therefore.”

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