Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Volodymyr Bilyk - Infinite union of question marks

Farewell and thanks for all the contributors.

Mirek Bodnar 5

Mike Cannell

Mike Cannell is an intermedia poly-poet from the UK who works in visual, linier and sound poetry of various types. His work is primarily concerned with exploration of the materiality and emotional power of language and is also is the editor of würm (, a semi-regular e-magazine showcasing experimental poetry  of all kinds: His work (including many e-books) can be found at: and . His work has featured in online periodicals such as Otoliths ( and wordforword (, along with the anthology “the last vispo anthology: visual poetry 1998-2008” (published by Fantographics in 2012).

Nick Zedd 5 TANTALUS

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Julia Stakhivska - poems and images you'll never know

And it's around time to make some of you tremble and others of you to become slightly irritated. Behold! Romantic poetry is coming just like "The Birds" is coming.


Translated from the Ukrainian by Orest Popovych

almost in a straight line runs Avenida Cervantes
the smell of linen long stored in a closet
the cries of birds that fly with a cloud of dust
a dog with a lame leg
verses that hover in the air
- the voice of the departed Whitney -

rough walls - a gluey orange
from here you can't see the volcano Mumbacho
clattering buggies - into the horse's ears
flow the orchestras and the attire of February
and the carnival which can be heard around the corner
- all this will change nothing -

coffee is brewing and grains are roasting
the beer tastes like the coolness of a lake
in the evening again the readings before hundreds
again the street people will beg for money
the night paints lips and eyebrows
- of the river smells Bronwyn -

a blackened church - an aging Madonna
nearby they also opened a McDonald's
everywhere winter and provincial doldrums
young prostitutes cheapen the prices
midnight is guarded by the infantas of Inessa
- with their sultry whispers: beso -

a few butterflies having worn out their wings
also hurry to change their attire
settling down on a woman's black hair
like red flowers or a retinue
and it's not right to let go of the woman
who wants to frolic like a butterfly

an almost empty Avenida Cervantes
local people leave to pick oranges
others stand in line for the carnival
I stand by the wall thus expecting nothing
I don't belong here - I don't know where to stand
- there's no one even to ask -

I hurry because soon it will start
the first column will surge forward
death's statue with a scythe in thick woven cloth
a puppet spinning on a pole
the rustle of skirts over sweaty calves
- you scrutinize with wide-open eyes -

and the carnival finally did move
each beauty is holding a rose
dark musicians fly above the town
the sounds run over like rising dough
so with the dust cloud and the wormy sounds
- it's best for me to become a shoe -

Jonathan Kane

Jaap Blonk - Onbekendegracht & Gebed zonder End

Onbekendegracht lists most of the waters of Amsterdam.

The Onbekendegracht ("Unknown Canal") is a canal in Amsterdam, situated behind the 'Carré' Theatre.

In the recording of the list, the names are spoken with the word accent on the last part, unlike in normal Dutch pronunciation. This last part is usually that which indicates what type of water it is (eg. a canal, a harbour, a lake, a pond etc.).

Gebed zonder End is a listing of the small alleys of Amsterdam.

Gebed zonder End ("Prayer without End") is itself an alley in Amsterdam.
It's also a standard expression in the Dutch language, for something that's going to take forever, that will last far too long.

The Dutch word for alley, "steeg" is also the past tense singular of the verb "stijgen", "to rise". This gave me the idea for the continuously rising accompaniment in the recording, using Shepard tones.

Ruud Janssen - Stone Age Life

Rudolfo Carrillo - Conditions Arising From the Failure of Postmodernism

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Patrick Playter Hartigan - The Ironic One

The ironic one, I lost his number,
a shuffling of clogs, taxi signals
before we could adjust - which has
nothing to do with work. Look, I’m
on a tight schedule. Language is a
record of the liquid setting. This
can be forced. Versus this sort of
“narrative” or “facts” we want, or
we make the appropriate noises. So
it’s contract day. I love how they
just kind of drop by with the look
the eyes like coins of the vending
machine of love. You do this again

Cory Peeke

Mama Baer

Sheri L. Wright

Reed Altemus - By Stealth

Karl Kempton - Breaking Code

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Donna Kuhn - this field of beets is ripe and ready

Stephen Nelson

Felino A. Soriano

halo’s half-shine more so within a darkness of mediocre searching

you’ve heard a dusk
arrive amid innuendo’s
lack of social protocol, the
language of
                        dangling improper
             breaching day’s angled enunciation
finding softened fog near vocal demonstration, streaks
of psalms move into featured walls of handmade shelving
neoteric facsimiles and the irony of watching a hand
move into a history of unanswered faithful
                                               and upon a looking
                        combinational language-hybrid syllabic continuity
things, these
a wonder finds                                                            introspection as the device
causational forward into mimicking help
as the lean into pleasure folks inward and self is the warmth
already progressing

Friday, July 26, 2013

Jim Leftwich & John M. Bennett - another three

Andrew Lundwall - Do It

Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino

Beach Sloth - I'm OK

I’m OK
Pictures of water are wonderful
Whole worlds unexplored
Long ago they were closer
Advancement brings disconnected connection
Everybody knows
Nobody does
Jobs become abstractions
Food processed
Removal of impurities
Impurities there artificially
Cleaning up after ourselves
Trying to keep quiet
Shifting from one foot
To the other
At a concert
Volume is too loud
Lyrics incoherent
Stare at their shoes
They call it a movement
They wanted to call it navel gazing
That was already taken
Long before the disconnected connections
Missed connections
It is our own damn fault
Pay attention
Head up
Further up
A dream of mine is to be the sky

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Complaint corn paint

This is the totem that personifies Yury Tarnawsky who declined to send some of his recent poems for the reason unknown.


To Bronwyn Lea

On the Plaza de la Independencia - Bronwyn
warm air has filled our lungs
the only way out - is to inhale some more
the taste of tangerine - tongue between the teeth
all that will remain between us
is the time in this poem

Bronwyn - here time exists in the voices of revolutions
later these streets will be named after them
later the ladies of the night for three bucks
later the bands trumpeting halfway through the night
and there is so little time
to talk with you about poetry

Bronwyn - toss a sentavo into the fountain
perhaps we'll return here - it's like a security deposit
this street urchin who's fooling and hassling us
knows that all of this life is transitory
for this you don't even have to be a prophet
nor a poet

Bronwyn - let's follow the carnival
why should we hide - we've stolen nothing
in a town where they trade in love
anything can happen - so many people
the streets are pressing heavily upon us - this draft
of words that I share with you

Bronwyn - you say it's impossible
we won't come here - only torrents will come
- like scabby dogs in green attire -
they'll detect our trail fading in the sky
they will seize this thread - these February verses
those that belong to us both

Bronwyn - if I arrive together with the dogs
try to wait for me somewhere between the years
wait at the Alhambra - I know the way
I know this place - these walls and the terrace
the horses and buggies on de la Plaza
the red streamers - rojo -

Bronwyn - the locals know us by sight
maybe above the table there will be a name plate
here they love poets even after death
I am staring at the starlit sky
by now you are flying up to Australia
it's a good thing we are mortals after all

Translated by Orest Popovych

Rudolfo Carrillo - There is a Fragile Horse

Litsa Spathi

Miriam Midley

Matt Taggart

Ruud Janssen - Everyday Life

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Vernon Frazer

mIEKAL aND - Manifestoes of the Moment 1 - 2 - 3


Unpublish derivative literature
Drink the water of the aquifer where you live
Everyone writes, everyone reads writing
The values of Capital are contrary to a creative well-lived life
Social is merely the first step to conviviality


Sing when others don't, dance when others should
Food belongs to people—it is what makes us human
Theory is recursive and destablizing
Knock three times on the ceiling if you love me


Melancholy rejuvenates the sad threads of instance
Encourage the kindness of stranger
Time as we know it is only one order of magnitude
Language is its own continuous permutation
At what cost?

Patrick Playter Hartigan - Something for Structure Not

something for structure not
a poem field work so sounds
that coincide the attention
taken a pause a stop travel
like putting on the clothes

distinctions so tender they
jump oyster flesh to salt a
cannon spewing forth minted
dimes that surrounding talk

disc aluminum bicycle spoke

not to belabor or dismantle
for structure form inherent
a branch whose green leaves
or a suffering conglomerate

this postcard future voters
Greek adaptable handle if a
redeemable breath the focus
specific heat potential you

‘ve come through here often

Cory Peeke

Anna Boschi

Reed Altemus - Fulcrum

Maxim Bujnicki

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Eryk Wenziak - Raapah Tay

Fay ahh loooon bawn tay
Fay ahh loooon bawn tay
Fay ahh loooon bawn tay
Loooon bon tay fay
Loooon bawn tay fay
Loooon bawn tay fawn

Fon tay?
Fon tay?
Fon tay?

Fuuuu fawn tay fon
Fuuuu fon tay fon
Fuuuu bon fon tay
Fuuuu bon fon tay

Ahh loooon bon tay
Ahh loooon bon tay
Tayoooon fon tay
Tayoooon fon tay

Bon fay-tah bey
Bon-fay tah bey
Bon fay tah-bey

Tah bay
Tah bay
Tah bay
Tah bay
Bay tah
Bay tah
Bay tah
Taaaah Baaaayyy Baaaahhh!
Taaaah Baaaayyy Baaaahhh!

Rrrrrup! raapah tay
Rrrrrup! raapah tay
Rrrrrup! raapah tay
Rrrrrup! raapah tay

Rrrrrup! Rrrrrap! tay ahh
Rrrrrup! Rrrrrap! tay fawn
Rrrrrup! Rrrrrap! tay ahh
Rrrrrup! Rrrrrap! tay fawn

Rrrrrup! Rrrrrup! ah tay
Rrrrrup! Rrrrrup! ah tay

Rrrrrup! raapah ah tay

Ah tay              (with moderate accentuation)
Ah tay
Ah tay
Ah tay
Ah tay
Ah tay
Ah tay
Ah (pause) taaaay!  (raise pitch towards end)

Rrrrrap! ah taaaay! (lower pitch towards end)

Rrrrrahh oop! (raise pitch towards end and say vigorously)

Donna Kuhn - I'm in the City Again

Stephen Nelson


Karl Kempton - Eclipse

Felino A. Soriano


in the hall of silences
zoom prepares escape-route
tendencies, sans pressure to
use predetermined paths as
stated in the tight-written
fathom of birth’s elongated