Month: May 2013
BIRTH
BIRTH, by Jackson Pollack
by K. M. Douglas
BIRTH, by Jackson Pollack
Can’t remember so captured so candid in light under splashes
Been up again, tall rag pipes loathe quizzically
& the strangest one of all stank like bedrise in a morning known
for chemicals. Too much less now gene low dieoptics
Care-a-plied knocketernal carnivorous/nerve/ending
Naked Man.
cood tail heights jett sold in tanglewood mesas
Birdstones mask in rapture fathomed
brought forth mind tamely, seen first looking up
Out of the Web Wyoming is dying
distance talk open buried scent bloom
nothing appears
Bride endle sped clay cracks dust
calm stale core
Out of the web nothing appears
ism-is-mated, Guardians of the Secret.
Autumn Rhythm. Number 27, 1950.
HTUMAN TA YEKSIHW
YENOHP A TON M’I :SRORRIM ETORW SDROW
Bio:
K. M. Douglas grew up in Northeast Ohio and studied creative writing at The Ohio State University. He lives in Rainer, Washington with his wife, cat and dog. Cities of Blood, K. M.’s first published book of poetry, is available for Kindle. His first novel is In the Place Where There is No Darkness, a dystopian look at America through the eyes of the son of a suicidal ex-Army Ranger. http://www.kmdouglas.org
For Curious Matter
For Curious Matter
By
Tim Keane
habit re-
hearses
control
habit’s the body’s
political regime
neutering
freeform
play
science is
like sculpture
or sex,
real,
measured
mythoi
disallowing
any ‘ordinary’
by restoring
forgotten contact
and elapsed perception
and exciting depths
of unsafe speculation
and in that luxury
of twilight
making solid paramours
of our curious matter
till habitual illusions
like heaven, or home,
fix fictive securities
and possession reaffirms
control over matter
and then the mind,
restarts its chronic
rehearsing again
and again and
again we ignore
bizarre daily amenities
in the clump of muck,
and turn our nose
from the durian
and the gutted skate,
and the bloated trunk
of the deciduous,
and the serrated colors
of the shattered lantern,
and the white rapture
in the unsold sunup.
Tim Keane’s poetry and articles have appeared in Modern Painters, Evergreen Review, Hyperallergic Weekend, Jacket, Poetry New Zealand, CV2, Mudlark, and other magazines. His first book of poems is Alphabets of Elsewhere (Cinnamon Press, 2007). He lives in New York City.
ZERO A.M.
ZERO A.M.
by K. M. Douglas
ZERO A.M.
FIRST CURSE: Arise the first birth in warm obscure purity, admit the subtle passing of daylight chasing sanity, a ceremony of cracked walls and fallen hydrogen assume the freight mild ready desperate escape in train rail race the dust by day and sunlight wishing for obscurity
SECOND CURSE: We follow the laws we choose to follow, we follow the way, the legless way, the headless way, the endless way, the absolute infinity is always changing expanding contract disease the lungs they flow the breath below we pray we wait we give thanks we burst forth in sudden amazement and find the god divine alive in eyes we insist we see through
THIRD CURSE: Our carnal bard died a certain death of old age is a wave that shakes as the beach crashes back and daylight finds a new enemy and nitemare fits an image revealed by morning a memory gasp a last handshake a trigger a fact a gas chamber relate the mid-day earthquake and all the lasers chipped and micro melted skin flaps in piles burnt nervous hostile occupations bring flame to follow death in the a.m.i.m.we.are.eternity
K. M. Douglas grew up in Northeast Ohio and studied creative writing at The Ohio State University. He lives in Rainer, Washington with his wife, cat and dog. Cities of Blood, K. M.’s first published book of poetry, is available for Kindle. His first novel is In the Place Where There is No Darkness, a dystopian look at America through the eyes of the son of a suicidal ex-Army Ranger. http://www.kmdouglas.org
Aspects of Cognitive Poetics
(The Beginning of a fascinating piece of writing)
“When one considers the perceived qualities of poetry, one cannot escape facing a rather disconcerting issue. Words designate “compact” concepts, whereas some poetry at least is said to evoke diffuse emotions, vague moods, or varieties of mystic experiences. Furthermore, as brain-research of the last few decades seems to suggest, language is a predominantly sequential activity, of a conspicuously logical character, typically associated with the left cerebral hemisphere; whereas diffuse emotional processes are typically associated with the right cerebral hemisphere. Thus, while we can name emotions, language does not appear to be well suited to convey their unique diffuse character. Accordingly, emotional poetry, or mystic poetry ought to be a contradiction in terms. We know that this is not the case. But this presentation of the problem emphasises that we have all too easily accepted what ought not to be taken for granted. The major part of this paper will discuss some ways poetry has found to escape, in the linguistic medium, from the tyranny of clear-cut conceptual categories. The case studies to be presented will illustrate how emotional qualities can be conveyed by poetry; and, as a more extreme instance, how “altered states of consciousness” are displayed by strings of words. One of the key-words in this respect is “precategorial information”; or, perhaps, “verbal imitation of precategorial information”. Two additional key-words will be “thing-free” and “gestalt-free”. Psychologists distinguish “rapid” and “delayed categorisation”. “Precategorial information” is more accessible through the latter. It will be pointed out that the reader’s decision style may be decisive here. Persons who are intolerant of uncertainty or ambiguity may seek rapid categorisation and miss some of the most crucial aesthetic qualities in poetry, including emotional as well as grotesque qualities. ”
(Some Aspects of Cognitive Poetics by Reuven Tsur – https://www2.bc.edu/~richarad/lcb/fea/tsur/cogpoetics.html)
A BRUISER OF GOLDEN WORDS
The Embankment
(The fantasia of a fallen gentleman on a cold, bitter night )
Once, in finesse of fiddles I found ecstasy,
In a flash of gold heels on the hard pavement.
Now see I
That warmth`s the very stuff of poesy.
Oh, God, make small
The old star – eaten blanket of the sky,
That I may fold it round me and in comfort lie.
~~ T.E. Hulme ~~
T.E. Hulme was born in 1883, and was one of those edgy bohemian types, along with, Ezra Pound, F.S. Flint and Edward Storer who changed the face of poetry for good. They were fledgling imagists who rebelled against set metres and rhyme, which had been established in English poetry since the 16th century; for them, Romanticism was sliding down the greasy pole of yesterday`s news, and they wanted something new, fresh and invigorating. And so “The School…
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Exant
Exant
by
Lewis Gesner
three stamps do for one are now they claim to be daft riders of the choir punctual and noncommittal full of blue haired rejection dominion and a base camp, frost on beards clamor and the song apparel makes undulations in the mass the animal state, the contour shaved prosaic but on the end of a filter spread of a butter diffident repose lawn marker heeds property one hundred slabs a long chip’s scorched return with resident the flash of mirrored ornaments in the retirement grove it is in an afternoon the ball to slot converting energies, cold across through heating even raw as flames magic actions strung together with a lisp and from the trauma more the shield in de then re programmed concert the in streak principle charcoal and allure moderate body valving technique beckons them repeat and meet them at the next chromatic lip fires and the V shaped rut and three pronged straw threads remittent serial rope connective the arrival of the spongy air the speaker cone for the local ghost responding gel whipped indirect reference into a froth metered the voices over the loudspeakers are fading the truss rods were detached before the crash but still insisted she controlled the movement of the storm with her mind disrupt gray space contour ligaments practiced alternating left and right foot to move forward and back have the social wanderer as mutton from an index card the true inception followed on the blue lines returned the bait untouched snapping and clicking dusty nylon gravesites replaced by bandages and boiling string exchange partnerships sweeping action regardless the tool delicate pressure, the sign is dimpled on the cheek forget the stirring in the hive algae stained water bottle departures on the scale and discovery slippery units riddled gesture realized from manuals sludge pail had its own place in a remote corner filled full desired defense want fear for un restrain laminated on your joints poured on form fit attempt the perfect copy slather itch pocket, trained in the uniform room orders, knows the kitchen and the bath furor in converging gravel, whipped by cyclone your name is ground into the empty monument the stone mason’s yard string skinned banjo and opposition weathering the glissando howling trio limps into the case-water for an eye flush strips of color as receded disappear the combination blue, cloud-leach brown the earth’s round too porous not perfected as were daffodils and elephant trunks still closely threaded to profound aparts from human awareness creaking, then a rippling, side effects expand at cracks, swell and narrow of in in de flations your masks are transparent slip covers which have not been exceeded fertilization mounds, wind to garden retired puddle deflected from the tar deck sucks out light plus radio waves slice drill elegant farm wear, nostril will power controls the filtration taking small steps, journeys eclipse trance rest on cement pillows human participation fringing participating, group flight over the textured plane has remained without a warrant for necessities millennium the seal, has fused itself on backwards gush, just a drip now retentive keeps in sight floor boards thick as sandwiches and in a curl the heat of suns sudden made them wince cooled, level melt panned drying monotone interaction feels sensor touch, a prickling, and an uncomfortable, numbing wave freezing writes in crystals ritualized body functions over time and a break during which evacuating any which way as far the brass gamelan introduced sight the inside back of skull from tube quills piercing underground the water bladder blends and quenches in a thirst awkward and five minute tardy everywhere no trespassing signs as resistant stand with pride their little pink death these vapors protrude as best they can, nosing in toward materialization in the midst of a factory wall or half submerge in the living body of the one that used to live next door without precision open round the mouth as much as possible dwindle lace strong because the geometric mesh enunciate use up teeth and tongue seems to plant amid the plaques and department store prints don’t presume too much the overhanding sash and the sail to hold the years of radiating lard has on its try the diffusion of the equivalent in sediment and residue in the line in your slow tradition block passage waits and thinks it has some pure bred determination a standard insult prevailing rest wrap tight sweat soak blanket peels
Lewis Gesner is a writer and artist living in Taiwan. He has exhibited internationally, and is a member of Mobius artist group out of Boston, MA, US. He has had several print and e books publish by Whitesky books.
The Poetics of Immersion
Immersion Poetry
The Poetics of Immersion
out(be)come
be(in)ginnings
Sentiment and Sensibility
by Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia
Withinside of experience is poetics
an unhidden poetry runs its course through occurrences
a further unhidden poetry has been handed down and lived in for centuries in myth, fable, folklore, philosophy, religion, worldview, and other notions often marked as ‘culture’
images have existed
images exist
images created are tangled with past images
ideas are images to be
images are ideas had
images are ideas being had
the image and idea (of the image) is the center of the poem
even when the poem has no center or focus, the image/idea is
a direction of a poem is an image
a whole piece can turn on a preposition
into (for example) is an image/idea immersed into the wordery of the poem
the wordery is the added imagery of words surrounding the essential image
a room described is often done so just to place in or out of it the agent or patient of the lines
….
a poem finds its place immersed into other poetry at all points
no words exist alone
there is no alone with words
a single word is a combination of concepts, idea, and (what) sensiment imag(in)es
sense is a two-way conduit for sentiment
sensiment(al) is the poet’s stock of ingredients, materials, detritus, etc for poetry
sensiment is found art
sensiment is art forced upon artist via life and the image/idea occurring and being processed
….
the poem occurs within the overall web of poetics/wordery/sensiment
poem as written/being written is an act of immersion (at times invasion)
poem inserts into web of myth and history and truth and wish and current events and the POP
the pop the today’s need for myth with truth being subjected to wish
….
the poem once inserted into the umbrella of wordery undergoes the next step which is to be immersed into the reader
the reader more properly defined is the perceiver of poetry
the perceiver once in contact with the poem is in the poem is withinside the occurrence of the piece
minimalism, distillation and small vocabulary further allow for an enmeshment with the poem once the perceiver is immersed in the poem
the poem immersed in the experience of the perceiver
….
immersion poetry is NOT conceptual poetry
concept is but an aspect of/step towards idea
immersion poetry is not found poetry
all poetry is found in the cosmic and psychic language of the real and irreal/subjunctive worlds
possibility is its own myth
wish is a pantheon governing the will
….
immersion poetry enters this world wrapped in other wordery
it comes through and with all art and all pop
it comes with myth attached
it comes via quote via reference naked but for the air it has relationship with
it comes knowing it itself is at times nothing other than a paraphrase a para-image para-idea
it gives room for continuation
for communion
it gives
it is conversation
it hears
poems hear
it is called to respond
it responds to call
it calls for response
respond and correspond is immersion
….
it does by being allowed to do
to do is to be received
perception is reception where poetry is concerned
where poetry has flourished in its immersion
as but a petal coming from and returning to a mythic center
ALTPOETICS 