pussies and pollys ho!

January 1, 2017 § 4 Comments

The year ends and begins I want to say in the same (and already not exactly the same place). And or with the faces of Janus and with a sense of dread if I’m honest as if already I’ve given it all over to the forces at play. As if the forces of recalibration, the equal and opposite aren’t built in. As if I’ve forgotten the push and pull of breathing. And underway now, the dread eases, on the way facing forward a wind at my back.
Buoyed in part by finishing in good measure what I’d started:
5 books in a series begun two years ago, exploring the vagaries, the moods and nuances of SELF: Who am I. What do I want. How do I know.
(Footing; self; name; place; hole in the grid).
And the projects along the way which include a few indices and lexicons yet to be pulled together
(RUST; index;)
And in part by a sense of next year’s work, the personal and public aspects, personal and public responsibilities, overlapping. The keen understanding of the need to protect our language, our vocabulary, our how do we know from the insidious force of not knowing rather than the ebb and flow, equal and opposite forces of unknowing already built in to how we come to know.

So under the rubric of syntactical drift, and the play of snigow (otherwise intended to have been mobius (<–you see the upside down and backwards of it, yes?) and working with lists of words already in play and words not yet brought into play I will go forward in mirth and good cheer, with hope, and my pollyanna in pigtails and ribbons on the one hand &, nasty pussy full of hiss and vinegar claws at the ready on the other.

Yes and all that said, in truth, I go forward with hope and equanimity in equal measure to my horror and fear.
And by all I hold sacred as I’ve said at least once before, if I’m going down I’m going down standing up, by Art! And yakking my head off.
On the mark. At the line. Pussy and Polly,  Pussies and Pollys ho!

the many faces of poetry

April 2, 2012 § Leave a comment

world premier of text aisle diatribes


December 21, 2011 § 1 Comment

what rules do you break?

she knows but she'll light them all anyway


November 16, 2011 § 2 Comments

first run; when all is said and done it still only had its moments, the inking of the platen not the least of it, and 4-1 sitting pretty as you please in the chase, magnificent as a sculpture but and so as I already said once moments weren’t aren’t enough

just off the run I felt, um…deflated, is a good word, going all the way to having failed language as if it fait a complit did not turn out as opposed to isn’t coming together as I had hoped and yet going in from a poetic point of view it was wrong, there were pleased as punch lines (poems in this case) and even worse the sign posts, the leylines left showing to no good end, or worse to a bad end,

after some almost grumpiness (no wonder I’m so thirsty–as in grumpy people usually need water) I come to some thing Micah said when he was talking about his own work; his own process, about “not wasting steps in the testing…”

surprisingly I even went to embarrassment as if it were a thing which happened in public for everyone to snicker-snack about (ain’t I queen for a day and a MissThing out of practice) better would be the simple allowing again for experimentation, the rigors of it, the risks the knowing the job was dangerous when I took it Fred, (no whining allowed) and to recognize the new press not even so to speak in which I am working, literally and figuratively and having concocted a sense of needing to have something sooner rather than later to take to print the why behind me and not so important as what lies ahead and what I’ve already learned; am      learning

shit can the one poem I knew didn’t belong

leave out the beautiful but unnecessary 4-1 page

use fluxx as the cover (already I’m bargaining for it, maybe it is the title page maybe it offsets flux and not minus1)

(and countering) but if I call the poem 4 minus 1 then who needs it… and la la la

all of this withstanding

there are 3 poems and only 3

3 osprey



then there is the word flux which serves nicely as a cover, as a container, as a title is what I mean

and but for all of it I must go back to the poetry of it…the where I veered off course and take the time it needs, the time I need

ah yes the time I need is also the press I need to come to grips with, I need not feel pressed off the press…we’ll see in the press of it how it all it press-ceeds

meanwhile, I’m thinking of:

dangling a participle, black on striking red…

and jabberwocky when all is said and tinkered with in phenix 24, perfectly understated

and what’s another word for disseminification?

and runes

and of course an alphabet, an a b c alphabet

and Had Matter, or Haz maybe , and a little jabberwockesque poem which hatched full blowen in the nyte time past

ah yes, and the time I need

the mote in e’s eye

June 2, 2011 § Leave a comment

it is the little things,

I’ve been well taught, thank you, sensei/s

I am well schooled, and taking to heart the lessons, and goals, I set in spite quite of myself, and so I looked, and saw, and most fun of all, I am understanding and so able to extrapolate and there it is again the difference between by memory or by heart in a word, learning,


It was the e, the one e, in the heart of the poem, in the home stretch in fact that kept filling up, and looking, well, just wrong and I fixed it…I mean I saw it, and then did the several things that are tantamount to rebooting the computer as a first fix for almost anydamned thing, cleaning off the ink, brushing off the letters, re- inking, replacing the letter, none of which worked so I thought, thought I there must be something that is pushing that one area up, like perhaps a thin (a brass or copper spacer) got underneath it…so I organized to be able to look under those letters and damn if there wasn’t a piece of lint, yup hardly bigger than a speck of dust, that was a mote in the e’s eye as it were…anyway smooth sailing after that and now the 12 poems are finished, and it is on to titles and fluerons and rosettes and red and fine measurements ohmygod,
I am ready…


And then there is the Story matrix, a storyline spreadsheet ha! Whoever heard of such a thing, and yet at this juncture I am ready to do all things, and so I filled in each little box for each scenelet and damn again if it didn’t just pretty as a picture point out the holes in the story, ha!

And she was right, it really didn’t take long at all. Another one of those in spite of myself, one of those geez that’s a stupid assignment that isn’t…ironically enough it was also rather soothing, and in the end I loved filling in all those boxes…and I’m ready to concede that if I shift things around and shitcan the first chapters as I have them the whole thing really won’t fall apart…and so I’m gaining steam and gleaning, yup that’s exactly what I’m doing…gleaning on the one hand and soon to be sewing and sowing on the other…

april 14

April 15, 2011 § Leave a comment

telling stories

& when it’s
his turn he
tells about
playing ping-
has a picture—

you know that one or
maybe you don’t which
Castro hated, shirt off,
& a bit too flabby—

to boot


april one

April 2, 2011 § 3 Comments

april’s fool

god by any other name
is war no poetry in that


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