E·ratio

2011-12-31T11:11:00.002-05:00

E·ratio's reading period for issue 15 is in full swing. If you're awaiting a response, please know you'll have one very soon. Meanwhile the issue is in production and we're expecting to go online sometime January 2012. It is the policy at E·ratio to continue reading submissions, and making acceptances, right up until publication time.

The number of submissions at E·ratio has been enormous, and, consequently, so has the work load, and so for the first time I have taken on two contributing editors to help shape future issues. Joining me at E·ratio are Joseph F. Keppler, sculptor, poet and theorist out of Seattle, WA, and Lauren Marie Cappello, poet out of New Orleans, LA. I'll have more on Joseph and Lauren as we approach publication.

If you are still awaiting a response to your submission, or you are awaiting your proofs, I apologize for the delay, and I thank you for your patience.

Issue 15 will be the biggest issue yet.

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2011-12-21T11:11:00.000-05:00

Available now at Amazon.com.

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2011-10-16T11:11:00.002-04:00

Foreword by Jack Foley
Foreword by Carey Scott Wilkerson

A Parson, A Prior, A Parlour
Tender Telemetry
Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear
Catching Up
The Valise
Crossing Legs
Banjo
Jubilee
Mercury
Sills
Aver
The Archaeology of Palestine
Rummy
Warrens
Conklintown Road
Barker
Clapping Hands (Portrait of Beth Weisser)
Labor Day
The Crocodile
Sailcloth 
Janes

January 2012

2011-09-21T11:11:00.004-04:00

Congratulations to Mark Young whose poem, “A line from Paracelsus,” which appeared in E·ratio 14, was selected by John Tranter for The Best Australian Poems 2011.

Congratulations, Mark Young!

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2011-09-17T23:11:00.002-04:00

Charles Bernstein and Corina Copp perform a dialogue, earlier this evening at the DUMBO Arts Center.

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2011-09-16T11:11:00.000-04:00

In this photo (taken w/ my iPad) Jonathan Galassi reading Il tramonto della Luna / “The Waning of the Moon” with Luigi Bonaffini.

Made it over to Casa Italiana Zerilli-Marimò in the Village last night for a reading and discussion on translation featuring Jonathan Galassi reading from his critically-acclaimed translation of Giacomo Leopardi’s Canti. The text was read in Italian by Luigi Bonaffini and then the translation followed read by Mr. Galassi.

In this photo (taken w/ my iPad) are Michael Palma (His fully rhymed translation of Dante’s Inferno was published by Norton in 2002 and reprinted as a Norton Critical Edition in 2007.), Jonathan Galassi (Poet and translator, President and Publisher of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.), Luigi Bonaffini (Translator, editor of the Journal of Italian Translation.), Jane Tylus (Translator, Professor in the Deaprtment of Italian Studies at New York University.), and moderator Robert Viscusi (President of the Italian American Writers Association.).

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2011-09-01T08:12:00.000-04:00

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2011-08-05T11:11:00.003-04:00

“all that is not you. I”

Notes after from IDYLLS & RUSHES by Susana Gardner (Dusie Kollektiv, spring 2011).

The book begins (?) with a quote from the writer Colette,

To write is the joy and the torment of the idle. Oh to write!

The binding (stapled, hand-made, folded pages, 3.75” x 3.75”) is covered by a remnant of text from the short novel, The Vagabond, also by Colette. The chap slips into a slip-case made from (read: recycled) a heavy-gauge page from a. . . . *

(This sounds like an autopsy. ORIGIN mid 17th cent. (in the sense [personal observation] ): from French autopsie or modern Latin autopsia, from Greek, from autoptēs ‘eyewitness,’ from autos ‘self’ + optos ‘seen.’)

“Kollektiv.” Modes of production and distribution. This chap is about a mode of production and distribution. Is this economics or poetics? What is my relation to this “chap”? Every “poem” is entitled, “(one).”

(one)

Freedom others bitter tonic
subtle certainties proof reflection
idiosyncratic looking-glass woman
among nuances class
rhythmical language, thought

(one)

Fate, keep away conquest
bouquet deference silent their
letters-physical, urgent,
brutal. Awkward
my garrulous love, idylls& rushes.

What is my relation to this poetry? Poetry depends, for its continued vitality and for its downright existence, upon the avoidance of definition.

* This reminds me of Janson’s. In Janson’s, names with the abbreviation “St.” are indexed/alphabetized under “saint,” as though they were spelled out. I appreciate that.

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2011-08-03T11:11:00.000-04:00

I am reading Around the Outsider: Essays presented to Colin Wilson on the occasion of his 80th birthday edited by Colin Stanley and published by O-Books.

Read my review of the documentary Strange is Normal: The Amazing Life of Colin Wilson.

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2011-08-01T11:11:00.004-04:00

Happy to have been able to make it over to the first annual New York Poetry Festival yesterday, which was held on Governors Island. Can you spot the poet in this photograph?

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2011-07-31T08:12:00.000-04:00

There is an interview with Márton Koppány up at 3AM Magazine.

“On the other hand, although there’s always a hole between two words, there’s always a third word which can fill that hole. I mean I’m not a true believer — in visual poetry either. Who knows, perhaps the only important paradigm shift within poetry has already happened between two lines of a forgotten sonnet…. And we may easily be talking at the very moment when ‘visual poetry,’ whatever the term has meant, is dissolving (once again) in conceptual art, minimalist poetry, graffiti, calligraphy and asemic writing because nobody needs the umbrella-notion any more. Or it is just changing completely.”

And read my review of Márton’s 2003 volume, Investigations & Other Sequences.

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2011-07-16T08:12:00.000-04:00

“Hungarian Masterpiece, Summer, 2011” by Márton Koppány. Thanks, Márton!

Márton Koppány is the author of Waves an E·ratio Editions E·Chap.

2011-06-21T11:11:00.002-04:00

“I never read before so many people before. What they don’t know is I’m doing poses out of Edward Gorey.”

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2011-06-17T11:11:00.000-04:00

Edward Gorey’s rendition of Don Marquis’ cockroach with the soul of a poet, Archy.

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2011-06-16T11:11:00.000-04:00

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2011-06-01T11:11:00.000-04:00

Most unusual and beautiful, Brenda Clews has curated Festival of the Trees at her website, Rubies in Crystal.

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2011-05-23T11:11:00.002-04:00

Drive By (2009, 14 x 18", oil on linen)

SUSAN BEE
RECALCULATING: New Paintings

A·I·R Gallery 111 Front Street #228, BKLYN NY 11201

May 25 – June 19, 2011
Opening Reception: Thursday, May 26, 6 – 8pm

Gallery Hours: Wed. – Sun., 11am to 6pm

Susan Bee Website.
Digital preview: thirty-seven new paintings online.

A·I·R Gallery.

“Many of the works in this show are based on movie stills, particularly film noirs. These mostly small oil paintings dramatize the relationships between male and female characters through the lens of the dark, violent films of the 1940s and 1950s. The paintings use a flattened and abstracted picture plane, as a starting point for uncanny narrative and figurative overlays that engage psychic dislocation, trauma, and incongruous mystical and religious iconography. These new works figure complex, sensual, dramatic tension, along with strong emotions, in an interwoven whole. The paintings confront, without resolving or sublimating, gender roles and power relationships. Bee’s focus is on the marked visual constellations that underlie key popular culture stereotypes.” —From the press release.

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2011-05-22T11:11:00.000-04:00

A new video poem by Mary Ann Sullivan.

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2011-05-20T08:12:00.001-04:00

Cousin Erasmus.

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2011-05-16T11:11:00.006-04:00

I’m reading Elise Stewarts’s books Paradise and Opium Valentines.

These are works of ancient formulae. The Ficinian theurgy — the theory of love as a form of natural magic, enough to produce intersubjective erotic phantasms loaded with the emotion of passion. And thus her reader becomes her prey.

Elise Stewart is a specialist in the poetry of transitive affection. Her books are published by Masque Publishing.

“Opium Valentines”

Night-time is the dancer,
my opium valentines, around
who’s shrouded mist I wander,
tempted by the gentle orb of
candle-light upon my dark-lit walls.

Yes —
the twilight hours, come not
soon enough —
with the sip of deep red vine,
to forbade this thirsting mouth.
To permit these eyes to audience
each mythical scene — unveiled.

Captivated, I must engage this
prophecy, drink the maddened
eye of pleasure, until the head,
heavy with delirium, sinks into
the sedative of sleep.

Until enslaved — I succumb to the
yearning depths of night,
and into the lure of dreams
— must fall.

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2011-05-10T08:12:00.000-04:00

From this morning’s New York Post. Photo: Lawrence Schwartzwald SplashNews. It's Katie Couric reading Charles Bernstein's Attack of the Difficult Poems.

2011-05-09T11:11:00.000-04:00

The spring/summer 2011 issue of The Tower Journal, edited by Mary Ann Sullivan, is online.

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2011-05-01T11:11:00.003-04:00

The English poet Elise Stewart.

“Conceptus” a video poem by Elise Stewart & Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino

Including excerpts from the poetry of Elise Stewart and Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino

Vocals, music and video by Elise Stewart

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2011-04-27T11:11:00.003-04:00

Nick Piombino and Pierre Joris

This Saturday, April 30th, from 4 to 6 PM Nick Piombino and Pierre Joris will be sharing the stage at The Bowery Poetry Club.

Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery
(between Houston and Bleeker)
212-614-0505
$6

Nick Piombino’s books include Contradicta: Aphorisms (Green Integer), fait accompli (Heretical Texts), Theoretical Objects (Green Integer) and The Boundary of Blur (Roof).

“Contradicta: Aphorisms is almost impossible to put down.” — Ron Silliman.

Pierre Joris is a poet, translator and essayist. He has published over 40 books, most recently Aljibar II (poems) and Justifying the Margins (essays). Recent translations include Lightduress by Paul Celan, which received the 2005 PEN Poetry Translation Award.

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2011-04-05T11:11:00.000-04:00

e·ratio editions is celebrating National Poetry Month with Beginning to End by Alan Halsey

Beginning to End and other alphabet poems by Alan Halsey. Poems and poetic sequences. With art by Alan Halsey.

Alan Halsey is the author of Marginalien and Lives of the Poets (both Five Seasons Press), Not Everything Remotely — Selected Poems 1978-2004 (Salt) and Term as in Aftermath (Ahadada).

E·ratio Editions

read the Alan Halsey interview

also available from e·ratio editions:

#11. Paul de Man and the Cornell Demaniacs by Jack Foley. Essay, recollection. “I studied with de Man in the early 1960s at Cornell University. The de Man of that time was different from the de Man you are aware of. . . . Despite his interest in Heidegger, the central issue for the de Man of this period was ‘inwardness’ — what he called, citing Rousseau, ‘conscience de soi,’ self consciousness.”

#10. The Galloping Man and five other poems by Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino. “ . . . how does / a body know, here is a hand, and here, is a sentence / or, / what’s riding on hearts . . . ”

.pdf (free)

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2011-03-22T08:12:00.005-04:00

Janet Kurnatowski Gallery.

Emma Bee Bernstein Website.

Update: April 7, 2011: Emma Bee Bernstein: An Imagined Space reviewed by Holland Cotter at The New York Times.

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2011-03-18T08:12:00.003-04:00

Above: “Webster Two Point Oh”  2008.  Altered Book,  11-1/2” x 19” x 11”. By Brian Dettmer.  Image Courtesy of the Artist and Kinz + Tillou Fine Art.

“Through meticulous excavation or concise alteration I edit or dissect communicative objects or systems such as books, maps, tapes and other media. The medium’s role transforms. Its content is recontextualized and new meanings or interpretations emerge.” — From the artist’s statement.

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2011-03-17T08:12:00.000-04:00

Edward Gorey’s cover for Shakespeare by Mark Van Doren. Notice Gorey’s initials, bottom right-hand corner.

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2011-03-04T11:11:00.002-05:00

Carey Scott Wilkerson on Cyclones in High Northern Latitudes by Jeffrey Side and Jake Berry and with illustrations by Rich Curtis.

2011-03-03T08:12:00.000-05:00

Edward Gorey’s cover for American Humor by Constance Rourke. Notice Gorey’s initials, bottom right-hand corner.

2011-02-21T11:11:00.001-05:00

Rhythm of Structure: Mathematics, Art and Poetic Reflections:
The Summary Exhibition

February 25, 2011 — April 2, 2011 at the Selby Gallery.

Opening: Friday, February 25, 2011, 5:00PM to 7:00PM

The Selby Gallery is located on the Ringling College of Art and Design campus, one-half block east of 2700 N. Tamiami Trail on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Way in Sarasota.

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2011-02-02T11:11:00.003-05:00

Edward Gorey’s cover for The New York Review Quiz Book by the New York Review of Books (no names of editors are listed). Wanna try a couple? Okay, here goes: 1: What is the connection between “Daffy Duck in Hollywood,” “Houseboat Days,” and “Unctuous Platitudes”? 2: When a young man who had recently returned home from Paris recalled that he owed some money to G.W. Russell, who might have summed it up as black, white, red, green, and blue?

Want another one? Okay, but this one is not from the Quiz Book, I’m making it up special for you: Who was poetry editor of The Paris Review when Charles Bernstein’s Language Sampler appeared (in issue number 86, in 1982)?

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2011-01-18T11:11:00.000-05:00

Edward Gorey’s covers for You Can’t Go Home Again and The Web and the Rock by Thomas Wolfe.

She was always using the word “fancy,” and it was evident that about the worst comment she could make on anyone was to call him “fancy.” Yet, remembering now things she had said to him on the ship, and always with this same straight, open, and utterly convincing look of sincerity—that she thought a play by James Joyce, Exiles, was “the greatest play that had ever been written,” and knowing that this play was nothing but a fancy and obscure little play, and not in any way to be compared with Ulysses; and having heard her talk of D. H. Lawrence almost in the manner of a cult-adept, as if Lawrence had not only given men fine books and moving characters but was himself a second Jesus Christ offering us the way to life and everlasting truth; and having heard her say that she had been “psychoanalyzed,” and speak of psychoanalysis as the greatest truth that men had ever discovered, and the sudden means of healing all the fury, unrest, and madness that had afflicted the souls of men for twenty thousand years—having heard all this, together with her comments on African sculptures, primitive paintings, Charlie Chaplin as a supremely great tragic artist, the modern dance, and all the other identifying paraphernalia with which the lives of sophisticated people were tricked out, and which, beneath its show of liberalness and alertness to new forms of art and life, was really itself nothing but a sterile, monotonous, and lifeless form of dutiful consent for people who had no power to make a new life for themselves, and whose greatest impulse was to keep in the swim—having already seen and observed in her all these disquieting signs of a familiar cult, he now wondered, in the distress and perplexity of his spirit, whether she was really an immensely competent “fancy” person pretending to be simple, or the simple, direct, and honest person that she seemed to be, who hated what was “fancy.”

— Thomas Wolfe, The Web and the Rock, p.373.

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2011-01-12T08:12:00.002-05:00

Edward Gorey’s cover for An Elizabethan Song Book, edited by Noah Greenberg, W.H. Auden and Chester Kallman. Notice Gorey’s initials, to the right of the sheet music.

    Fire, fire, fire, fire,
There is no hell to my desire:
See all the Rivers backward flye,
And th’Ocean doth his waves deny,
For feare my heate should drink them dry.
    Come heav’nly showres then pouring downe;
    Come you that once the world did drowne:
    Some then you spar’d, but now save all,
    That else must burne, and with mee fall.

— Thomas Campian

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2011-01-11T11:11:00.002-05:00

“Symbols are only the vehicles of communication; they must not be mistaken for the final term, the tenor, of their reference. No matter how attractive or impressive they may seem, they remain but convenient means, accommodated to the understanding. . . . Mistaking a vehicle for its tenor may lead to the spilling not only of valueless ink, but of valuable blood.”

— Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, p. 236.

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2011-01-09T08:12:00.000-05:00

UpStart.

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2011-01-03T11:11:00.000-05:00

a noun sing e·ratio 14 · 2011

with poetry and such by

Alan Halsey, Carey Scott Wilkerson, Keith Higginbotham, Simon Dutton, Anne Blonstein, Mark DuCharme, J. Crouse, Paul Siegell, Joseph F. Keppler, Richard Kostelanetz, David Rushmer, Stephen Emmerson, Dylan Harris, Joel Chace, Marcia Arrieta, Kat Dixon, Iris Orpi, Jasmine Dreame Wagner, Amanda Laughtland, Ben Nardolilli, Teresa K. Miller, A.J. Huffman, J. Michael Wahlgren, Emily Jern-Miller, Philip Byron Oakes, Stephen Nelson, Travis Macdonald, Travis Cebula, Francis Raven, Dawn Pendergast, Eric Hoffman, Mark Young, José Luis Gutiérrez, Ric Carfagna, Hugh Tribbey and Márton Koppány

and featuring Paul de Man and the Cornell Demaniacs, an e·ratio editions e·chap essay in recollection by Jack Foley

edited for real by Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino

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2010-12-19T11:11:00.008-05:00

Joseph made this art to accompany my poem, “The Galloping Man.”

Merry Christmas, Joseph.

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2010-12-13T11:11:00.005-05:00

The Anti-Christ is not a person, the Anti-Christ is an action.

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2010-12-03T08:12:00.003-05:00

E·ratio issue 14 is in production. Proofs will go out soon.

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2010-11-29T11:11:00.000-05:00

“Papier collé pipe et bouteille” (pasted paper pipe and bottle) by Picasso.

271 of the master’s creations turn up in France.

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2010-11-27T08:12:00.000-05:00

Edward Gorey’s covers for The American Puritans and The American Transcendentalists both edited by Perry Miller. On The American Puritans, see the steeple in the background. And notice Gorey’s initials, bottom right-hand corner, above the rock at two-o’clock. He doesn’t always “sign” his covers.

Companionables.

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2010-11-23T11:11:00.008-05:00

Todd Swift on the passing of Ingrid Pitt.

From BBC News.

From The New York Times.

Hammer historian Marcus Hearn pays tribute to Ingrid Pitt.

“It might have been shocking, but it wasn’t dirty,” she insisted. “I loved it when I had nothing on.”

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2010-11-22T11:11:00.000-05:00

Edward Gorey’s cover for Coningsby by Benjamin Disraeli.
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2010-11-01T11:11:00.000-04:00

a noun sing 4 new e·chaps from e·ratio editions

#10. The Galloping Man and five other poems by Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino. “ . . . how does / a body know, here is a hand, and here, is a sentence / or, / what’s riding on hearts . . . ”

#9. Prosaic Suburban Commercial by Keith Higginbotham. Two poetic sequences. “ . . . bathe deep in / the barely-there / disassembled gallery / of the everyday . . . ”

#8. Polylogue by Carey Scott Wilkerson. Poems. “ . . . with rules and constitutive games, / with paints and gramarye / with some modicum / of my reckless trust . . . ”

#7. Bashō’s Phonebook. 30 translations by Travis Macdonald. The great Japanese haiku poet Matsuo Bashō goes digital. Conceptual poetry. With translator’s notes.

E·ratio Editions

.pdf (free)

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2010-10-29T08:12:00.007-04:00

Jack Foley reviews

MYSTERIOSOS AND OTHER POEMS

by Michael McClure

“Michael stands on my back / growing wrinkles”

— Michael McClure, Plum Stones: Cartoons of No Heaven

“I’m an old man made of wheels of spinning flesh”

— Michael McClure, Mysteriosos

To read a Michael McClure poem is to bring ourselves back to something; it isn’t so much a specific recollection as it is a reminder of something we may have forgotten. “I AM AWED / by her demon face,” he writes of someone he calls “the secretary of deceit.” The tone here is political, ironic and momentarily judgmental. (He will later insist that he himself may be as bad: his own “trembling spirit is capable of everything”: “I will kill, torture, and maim Palestine / and tease it with fire.”) But the word “awed” is important, and it is to be distinguished from the context of “shock and awe”: “awe” — astonishment — is at the heart of this amazing septuagenarian’s work:

THE

ELEPHANT

CHARGES,

shrieking in rage,

and our aged guide,

the Anglo-Indian colonel,

shakes one finger

out the car window.

“Stop!”

he shouts to his “old friend”

and she does

and she stares

short-sightedly

from wrinkled eye bags

AND

SHE

TURNS

AWAY

from us,

then swings back

and bellows

her jaw-shaking trumpet blast,

and shuffles

away sideways

into the swinging branches.

McClure’s world is a constantly astonishing place — a place full of, to use the title of this book, “mysteriosos.” “Myserioso” = “having a mysterious nature or quality; enigmatic; inexplicable.” It is usually used as an adjective or adverb but may also be used as a noun. McClure is thinking of the term specifically in connection with Thelonious Monk, the great, constantly questioning jazz pianist who released an LP, Misterioso, in 1958; the cover of Monk’s LP is a painting by the Italian Surrealist Giorgio De Chirico: The Seer, or The Prophet. McClure makes no such specific claim for himself — “I still long to be Shelley,” he sighs at one point — but he insists that his poetry “demands the tearing down of what we are and letting our energies and bodies of meat and nothingness rebuild themselves.” This biospiritual process happens over and over again but never in a straightforward, “logical” way: “NO MATTER — ANTI-MATTER — DARK ENERGY”; it too is “mysterioso.”

At 78 McClure is neither resting on his laurels nor kvetching about the loss of his powers. Mysteriosos is as challenging and demanding a book as he has ever produced. But differences can be noted. I wrote this about his extraordinary 1970 book, Star, which McClure himself described as “a blast of my poor brain splattered over Hell and Earth & Heaven”:

Star enunciates a moving consciousness which is constantly thrust towards both intellect and the flesh and which dizzyingly but illogically perceives intellect and the flesh to be simultaneously identical and painfully split apart. McClure frequently quotes with approval Mallarmé’s statement that poetry is the language of a state of crisis. The crisis of Star is that the very conditions of thought and utterance are constantly at war with each other, constantly generating the most painful of oppositions — and yet silence is not even a remote possibility: speech is the poet’s only salvation . . . Jean Harlow and Billy the Kid are less “characters” than they are huge metaphors, almost Blakean figures, by which McClure can express his constantly shifting ambivalence.

Here, in this book of “the truth of shifting / complexities,” McClure says, “Old age or childhood, it is all renewable, / reversible, delivered with a warranty / that nothing is there in the nothingness”; “I am a flowering.” Sounding a little like John Donne, he writes, “My mouth / with your nipple in it / is the rising of thought.” McClure’s vision is essentially the same as the one he had forty years ago — “Knowing in all possible directions”! — but it is considerably calmer these days. It is as if the Harlow figure who haunted his young manhood with its “SEXUAL ADDICTION” has “morphed” — the word is an important one in this book — into the apparition he calls “Dear Being”:

WHAT I HAVE GIVEN MYSELF

is this love, invented for you.

The phrase refers specifically to the poet’s wife, Amy Evans McClure, but it extends beyond that to a feeling of acceptance and love for the whole of the universe:

WE HAVE THE JOY OF HERETICS

By simply being here, drinking from footsteps.

No pleasure, no shame, no guilt, just as life is . . .

WE DID NOT CHOOSE IT — WE ARE HERE . . .

PERFECT. Perfect. Perfect blotches

Hanging together in undreamed causeless systems.

No time anywhere — like smears on fingers.

Inspiration changes tiny strings to thick

Frequencies of matter. Hear the clatter

Of a megatherium family by the water hole.

These lines are taken from a remarkable long poem, “Double Moire for Francis Crick” — the discoverer of the structure of the DNA molecule and a longtime friend of McClure’s who lay dying as the poem was being written. The poem, which Crick never saw, begins with a moving reference to the endurance of “the MiddleWay” of Buddhism and to the possibility of the new — of liberation — even at such a moment:

THE CHANTING IN TIBET HAS NOT CEASED

— IT IS AS IMMORTAL AS MEAT —

it sings of the Middle Way.

Put out the fires in the eye

there is another style besides hatred and heat.

Let the soul go, build a pliant strong heart . . .

nowhere to go but

halfway to freedom. . . .

The most remarkable stylistic device of Mysteriosos is probably rooted in what McClure refers to as his explorations into “buddhist hua yen thought.” (Garma C.C. Chang’s The Buddhist Teaching of Totality: The Philosophy of Hwa Yen Buddhism is one of the poet’s favorite books.) According to hua yen Buddhism, an individual entity is not limited to an individual point of view. Every thing includes the whole — includes Everything. Hua yen asserts the mutual containment and “interpenetration” of all phenomena: one thing contains all things that exist.

McClure tells us explicitly that the poems of the “Dear Being” sequence are “born from earlier books, repeating opening lines of poems to begin new poems” and that in “Double Moire for Francis Crick” he “worked with an earlier poem . . . titled ‘Moire’ and used each line to begin a stanza in the new enlarged poem”: “Like an organism, ‘Double Moire’ began to be free in time and place, and to exist in the oneness of everything.” What he doesn’t tell us is the extent to which these poems constantly repeat lines, phrases, words as they “morph” from one poem into another — as aspects of separate poems interpenetrate one another.

all

QUICK

!!!

on page 35, for example, shows up as

It is all

QUICK

in a quite different poem on page 65. Similarly, “Mist and a star in his antlers” on page 40 shows up as “MIST AND A STAR IN MY ANTLERS” on page 60. Indeed, the word “antlers” may be a morphing of the word “anthers” on page 44. If everything is everything, if all things interpenetrate, then the poems themselves cease to be self-contained, individual entities: words and phrases from one poem might just as easily be a part of another poem. Life repeats itself in various configurations — all simultaneously moving together and apart, all “QUICK.” This, in a way, is McClure’s version of what Jack Spicer named “the serial poem” and which Jack Kerouac practiced in Mexico City Blues — a primary text for McClure.

A poet born in 1932 might well dwell upon his memories and his — to use a word that shows up prominently in this book — “gone” friends. There are some wonderfully elegiac passages in Mysteriosos as McClure recalls some of the famous poets who have been his companions:

I’m

introduced, “Michael, this is Robinson Jeffers . . . ”

And I mumble something.

In his salon among

walls of books in wooden apple crates, and pastels

of Morris Graves, Kenneth Rexroth reads

a new poem in a nasal, grating voice.

With crossed eyes, and hair alight

with genius, Robert Duncan sings songs from his Faust Foutou [sic].

It is exactly like the play of the dark, pouncing weasel

in the abandoned corral under the buckeye trees,

or Kenneth Patchen’s bulging eyes looking down at the waves of the Bay

where seals haul up on the mud to sleep beside traffic.

McClure does not deny his age or his aging (Mysteriosos has beautiful elegies to Philip Whalen, Robert Creeley, Philip Lamantia), yet the central message of the book is not elegy but the sheer aliveness, the wonderful, dizzying, endlessly interesting, “myriad” complexity of life itself:

AMINO TRIGGERS IN SPACE: in ponds

on ripples, and among the moons of Saturn.

Everything burns for the eyes that will

come into being. The twisting shapes

are hunting their forms, the big ones

grow and shrink and in themselves are the answers.

WE ARE ACTIVITY. . . .

Surprisingly to some perhaps, love and marriage are primary themes of this book — though, speaking of marriage, McClure remarked on my radio show that people are afraid to say I love you, “and they’re probably right: if people aren’t inventing love, they shouldn’t talk about it. Love has to be invented. It’s not a ghost that floats around in the air that you snap up when you get married or something. It’s part of soul making.” As always in McClure, you make your life: it isn’t something that’s simply given.

One of the most beautiful small poems in Mysteriosos is an “Epithalamium” the poet wrote for my son Sean and Sean’s bride Kerry Hoke. I’ll end this piece with that sweet, short, active poem, in which — as with all the poems in this wonderful book — the universe makes itself known in no uncertain terms:

PLUMB LIVES FROM MOMENT

to hour;

carve lives from week

to year.

Plume the spines with touches

and smiles;

your hearts

in whirlpool of foment.

It’s time to be growing

crowns on your heads.

Erase lines from nightly beds.

It all happens

with sun and with stars.

Love

at the start of your life.

MYSTERIOSOS AND OTHER POEMS

by Michael McClure

New Directions, 2010

ISBN 978-0-8112-1842-9

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2010-10-16T11:11:00.001-04:00

My poem, Crossing Legs, is now featured online at the smashing website, Poetry 365. Crossing Legs is featured in print in the Uphook Press anthology, hell strung and crooked. And in celebration of hell strung and crooked I’ll be reading Crossing Legs tomorrow evening, Sunday evening, October 17, at Abigail at 807 Classon Ave (at St. Johns Place in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn) at 8pm, along with fellow poets Samantha Barrow, Christian Georgescu, Aimee Herman, John Marcus Powell, Elliott D. Smith, Geoffrey Kagan Trenchard, Jacob Victorine and Ocean Vuong.

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2010-10-12T11:11:00.027-04:00

A review of Strange Is Normal The Amazing Life of Colin Wilson.

This feature-length documentary interview is nothing less than a super-up-close-and-personal visit with the legendary author and philosopher, Colin Wilson. Superbly conducted by the scholar Dennis Price we are given what seems total access to the Wilson domain, and total access to the phenomenal range of Wilson’s intellectual activities.

Colin Wilson is the author of over one-hundred-and-fifty books on what seems to be just as many topics — topics as various as the bicameral mind, psychological studies of authors such as August Strindberg, science-fiction novels, studies of the criminal mind, and then of course his brilliant analyses of poetry and of world literature and of the human condition — and Mr. Price is in his element as he leads us on a tour of all of these. (As any one of these topics can produce, if it does not indeed warrant, a feature-length documentary interview in itself, Mr. Price’s task is to present as comprehensive a survey as possible, and this he does admirably.)

The treats are many and they begin immediately as Wilson welcomes us into his library, which is annexed in various “sheds” on his grounds, and which holds over one-hundred-and fifty-thousand books. (Near the end of the program we are literally inside Wilson’s kitchen making tea. And there occurs here a moment that stands out among the many frank and candid moments on hand: Wilson turns from his sink and beholds Mr. Price and crew, there in his kitchen, and for a moment he seems uncertain about all this, but then slowly he smiles and his entire face beams — and I think darn if he don’t look like Raymond Briggs’ snowman!) As we walk with Wilson on his grounds it has to be striking to many watching that we are even actually seeing Wilson in this setting — it’s as though we crashed the Wilson house and he’s just deciding that maybe he’s enjoying having us — but then I suppose this is the missing link in Wilson’s body of work — and that’s what makes this essential viewing.

For those of us who grew up with Colin Wilson, who came of age intellectually with his books and with his ideas and with his imagination, Wilson was and still is a gateway to the world of philosophical and psychological concepts, a gateway to the authors of the world and to other ways of being. (Literally, other ways of being — made accessible, in the first place, if I understand the Wilson program, by mental discipline and by intentional living and governed only by the limits of your imagination. I imagine it can be this way with Rowling’s books, which can be a gateway to Tolkien and to C.S. Lewis and, if you’re lucky, if you’re über-cool, to Colin Wilson.)

It’s not as though we were not exposed to intriguing and even “radical” ideas from our teachers, rather, and more precisely, it was the adventure of discovering them on our own and in a book that was not on our reading list. There was something transgressive about it, like meeting up with the neighborhood pusher only he wasn’t pushing drugs, he was pushing a kind of salvation, an intellectual and, even, moral salvation. This is the effect Schopenhauer and Nietzsche had on readers. And if you understand that, then you get the impact Colin Wilson has had and continues to have. You can’t manufacture that effect. One can say (and with confidence you’re not being trite): you don’t just read Colin Wilson’s books, you have a relationship with them.

There are extended segments that deal with the impact of The Outsider and with the literary personages Wilson came into contact with — T.S. Eliot (and an episode involving Ezra Pound), Anthony Burgess (the author of A Clockwork Orange), Robert Graves, Roald Dahl and many others — and that deal with Wilson’s own coming of age and his struggling to make it. In response to the question, why so many books, Wilson candidly relpies, I’ve written a lot of books simply because the publisher commissioned them and I needed the money.

Coming of age intellectually, everybody desires and indeed requires validation; for the young “outsider” this can mean a time of loneliness, of dissociation, of quiet desperation and of deep depression. The temptation to join the go-along, get-along collective is great and is everywhere and promises the bliss of self-delusion (and the tinge of self-betrayal, the opposite of self-affirmation). But then enter Colin Wilson. Wilson teaches, or, let us say, we find in Wilson the notion that that validation — so necessary psychologically and so understandable — that that validation — and in its most reliable and authentic form — is best come from books and from ideas. The effect is intellectual independence and self-reliance, which are the beginnings, which are the basis, of personal liberty and self-determination. Colin Wilson is the last of the greats.

I had the pleasure of interviewing Colin Wilson back in 2006. Read the interview: Colin Wilson on poetry and the peak experience.

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2010-10-11T11:11:00.000-04:00

Edward Gorey’s cover for Thomas Szasz’s The Age of Madness.

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2010-10-10T11:11:00.001-04:00

Of all my Edward Gorey collection, one of my favorites. Edward Gorey's cover for The Duke of Palermo and Other Plays by Edmund Wilson. Skeletons and skulls and other such have appeared in other Edward Gorey covers, for instance there's a skeleton in Thomas Szasz's The Age of Madness, and there's a skull in An Anthology of German Poetry from Hölderlin to Rilke.

2010-10-07T11:11:00.005-04:00

We come to JoAnne Growney’s new book of poems, Red Has No Reason, by way of our interest in mathematical poetry and by way of Ms. Growney’s background in mathematics and in poetry and in promoting the mathematical poem. However, theorists in search of demonstrations of the analogy between the mathematical structure of the/of a mathematical operation and the grammatical structure of the poem will be disappointed, as Ms. Growney’s mathematicals are strictly by way of point of reference. This is not to state a minus, it’s to state a fact. On the plus side, we are delighted to discover in Ms. Growney’s verse a frankness and a confidence that immediately make themselves apparent:

from A Woman Is a Gallery She Can’t Stop to View

III

Everyone’s met someone from out of town
who says, My friend X in Baltimore
is just like you. Same hair, voice, and posture.
Even your gestures are the same.

I want to meet my double, to ask her,
Does your body hum beneath your thoughts?
Am I an easy imitation?
What’s the cost of being me?

Ms. Growney divides her book into four sections, subtitled, and with the parentheses, “(attention),” “(memory),” “(resistance),” and “(complexity).” “Complexity” is prefigured early on, in “(memory),” with the poem, “Horizon”:

Horizon

All was heaven, once, and seamless —
no dark to change shine into glare,
no clouds to fear.

None were wise or ignorant, no secrets
whispered in the breeze — there were
no better days.

Apples were mere apples, mix of tart and sweet.
Silent snakes ate insects, kept their earthbound place.
Opposites had not

declared themselves: delight and sadness,
fear and comfort blended, waiting for the seeker
to awake — to attend

the dying of the brightest star,
halving of the mind by the horizon
drawn near.

Divided
into complexity,
Eden disappears.

As the subtitles suggest, there is present here a reciprocity and coordination, and the holding off of inertia. Ms. Growney’s strengths are her interiority, and she’s got that voice down pat.

again from A Woman Is a Gallery She Can’t Stop to View

IV

At family reunions, my uncle shows old films.
Restless me before the camera, darting, stopping.
Young, natural — more lovely than she knew —
but what’s the use to know her since she’s gone.

My mother made much of helpful little girls.
Praise still persuades me; I work hard
for words withheld. On the road from my house
to hers, a truck covers me with shadow.

Red Has No Reason by JoAnne Growney.

Plain View Press
ISBN: 978-1-935514-52-7

JoAnne Growney’s Blog

JoAnne Growney’s Website

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2010-10-04T08:12:00.002-04:00

Jack Foley on the movie, Howl.

NO, I DON’T MEAN HOWL THE POEM, I MEAN HOWL THE MOVIE. . . .

When James Franco as Allen Ginsberg says, “With mother finally FUCKED,” he clearly relishes the word: what a blast of freedom to be able to say a word like that in public. The only problem is that Allen Ginsberg never said it. Asterisks were substituted for letters in many instances in “Howl,” but by the time, say, of Ginsberg’s Selected Poems 1947-1995, all of the letters had been put back in except for the case of that line, which appears in the poem as “with mother finally ******.” When I asked Allen Ginsberg why the word “fucked” didn’t appear there, he answered, “Because he didn’t fuck his mother.” The line is a sort of joke. The word “fucked” is clearly implied — as the film’s scriptwriters were all too happy to notice — but in this instance the asterisks don’t indicate censorship. Ginsberg would like to say “with mother finally fucked” — Carl Solomon undoubtedly wanted to do that — but he couldn’t say it because it wasn’t true.

James Franco says something else as well: “The Beat Generation? — That was just a bunch of guys trying to get published.” First of all, the quotation is inaccurate. The proper quotation — much stronger than what is said in the film — is “The Beat Generation? — That was just a bunch of guys trying to get laid.” Second, Allen Ginsberg didn’t say it: Jack Kerouac did.

That’s the sort of thing one deals with constantly in this film. The theme of Howl the movie is the right of the “individual” artist to portray the world as it seems to him, even if that means using language that might strike some people as coarse or vulgar. Since Allen Ginsberg is the film’s “individual,” nobody else in the film has much presence — and this despite the fact that we are dealing with highly charismatic people like Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady, people, especially the last two, whom Ginsberg constantly talked and wrote about. The real Allen Ginsberg was in the midst of a group of powerfully manifesting people, but the filmmakers didn’t want to give the movie Allen Ginsberg any competition — so James Franco is charming and interesting but nobody else is. As is almost always the case with such “biographical” films, the focus is on one person, the paradigm-changing “individual” who makes things happen. There was a wonderful moment during the actual trial — the transcript is available in City Lights’ Howl on Trial: The Battle for Free Expression — when, in his eloquent closing statement, lawyer Jake Ehrlich quoted from Christopher Marlowe: “But I shall tell thee roundly, / Hark in thine ear, zounds I can fuck thee soundly.” But in this film, Allen Ginsberg is the only person allowed to curse. Ehrlich’s statement isn’t there. Nor, interestingly, is Kenneth Rexroth: I was curious as to how the film might represent him; he wasn’t represented at all.

Al Young mentioned to me that he thought Allen Ginsberg read “Howl” far better than James Franco did. Young was right. Worse: there are moments — I kid you not — when Franco actually sounds like Woody Allen! Franco is at his best not when he is reading the poem but when he is Allen Ginsberg being interviewed: he is fresh and young and entirely engaging at those moments. He is effective as a reader of poetry only once: when he reads the concluding section of “Howl” — which of course was not read at the Six Gallery.

Allen Ginsberg mesmerized a room of people when he read his wonderful, innovative, ecstatic, dirty poem to them. But Hollywood folk are fearful of presenting a poet reading a poem all the way through. “Howl” is broken up into interrupted segments — and, heaven help us, animated by the talented artist Eric Drooker, whose Illuminated Poems is a beautiful book but whose work for this film is far less interesting than his collaboration with Allen Ginsberg was. The animation and the interruptions are so we don’t have to listen to the poem — so we can skip the words.

Ginsberg himself appears at the end, singing “Father Death.” It’s a touching moment in a film that hasn’t enough touching moments. Sad to think of the many people who will have their only sense of a remarkable poet through this film. It isn’t a desecration, but it isn’t very good either. In this case, I definitely preferred the book to the movie.

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2010-09-27T11:11:00.001-04:00

Edward Gorey’s cover for Hamlet and Oedipus by Ernest Jones. Notice Gorey’s initials, right above the first step. He doesn’t always “sign” his covers.

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2010-09-20T11:11:00.004-04:00

My poem, Crossing Legs, is now featured online at the smashing website, Poetry 365. Crossing Legs is featured in print in the Uphook Press anthology, hell strung and crooked. And in celebration of hell strung and crooked I’ll be reading Crossing Legs tomorrow evening, Tuesday evening, September 21, at The Cornelia Street Café at 29 Cornelia Street (between Bleecker and West 4th) at 6pm, along with fellow poets Joseph Fritsch, Christian Georgescu, Robert Gibbons, Deborah Hauser, Bob Quatrone, Francesca Sphynx, John J. Trause, Geoffrey Kagan Trenchard, Stephanie Valente and Jacob Victorine.

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2010-09-14T11:11:00.008-04:00

Let’s begin at the beginning, or, rather, let’s begin at the title. Titles are important as they not only serve as ID tags they serve the purpose of an object hypothesis, which is to say they tell us something about where the work (in this case the poetry) is going, where the work will or is intended to end up (where it will take us, its readers). Sometimes a title, in addition to its being an ID tag (which in many cases is enough), serves to point out something important for us, something we must take notice of if we are to “get” at the psychology behind the work.

As a phrase, “crossing the equal sign” brings to mind a number of things. First, in mathematics, we know that to cross the equals sign is to turn an equals sign into an “unequals” sign. And so it is to change, to transform, to redefine the meaning of: things which were once equal (=) are now no longer equal (≠).

This act of change, of transformation, of redefinition, this “crossing” brings to mind, beyond mathematics, a sense of passage. I think of the story of the crossing of Jordan river, which opens the Book of Joshua in the Bible. The crossing of the Jordan river is a story, a miracle story, of crossing a boundary (the Jordan was the natural eastern boundary of Canaan). It is a story of passage, and so, symbolically, of overcoming, of transcendence.

The scholar Roy Harvey Pearce, in his book The Continuity of American Poetry, quotes Richard Chase writing about Emily Dickinson: “Expressed in the most general terms, this theme is the achievement of status through crucial experiences. . . . The kinds of experience which confer status are love, ‘marriage,’ death, poetic expression, and immediate intuitive experiences which have the redemptive power of grace. . . . And each of the crucial experiences which confer the different kinds of status is a type and emblem of one of them: the coming of death.”

In what sense is this poetry “mathematical”? This poetry is mathematical by point of reference. This is not to say that this poetry makes reference to a specific mathematical element — say, the point, the line, an equation, an operation, a formal symbol — and it ends there; no, the reference is to a characteristic of that element, in much the same sense as when Hugh Kenner writes of Samuel Beckett in his Samuel Beckett A Critical Study: “The processes of mathematics offer themselves to the Beckett protagonists as a bridge into number’s realm of the spectrally perfect, where enmired existence may be annihilated by essence utterly declared.” And so it is not the point as this point or that point but the point in its essence, which is to say in its perfection, and which cannot be known except by definition.

Yes, points were blinking.
Lines were flirting.
Spaces were trampolines.

I could have consulted the Math Reviews.
I could have leafed through a graph theory text.
I could, that is, have notified the authorities.

But I’m a do-it-yourself-er.
I’m a rugged individualist.
I’m a learner and a lover.
I’m a very foolish heart.

Crossing the Equal Sign by Marion Deutsche Cohen.

Plain View Press
ISBN: 978-1891386-69-5

Marion Cohen's Website.

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2010-09-02T08:12:00.005-04:00

In celebration of the publication of the new Uphook Press anthology, hell strung and crooked, I’ll be reading, along with Joseph Fritsch, Christian Georgescu, Robert Gibbons, Deborah Hauser, Bob Quatrone, Francesca Sphynx, John J. Trause, Geoffrey Kagan Trenchard, Stephanie Valente and Jacob Victorine, on Tuesday evening, September 21, at The Cornelia Street Café at 29 Cornelia Street (between Bleecker and West 4th) at 6pm.

Featuring forty-one poets—from San Francisco, Atlanta, Green Bay, Boston, Seattle, Nashville and New York—hell strung and crooked also includes interviews with Mark Doty and Claus Ankersen.

Featuring: Lenore Balliro, Samantha Barrow, Paul M. L. Belanger, Alex O. Bleecker, Meredith Devney, Malaika Favorite, Joseph Fritsch, Christian Georgescu, Robert Gibbons, Thomas Gibney, Deborah Hauser, Suzanne Heagy, Aimee Herman, R. Nemo Hill, Vicki Iorio, Kit Kennedy, Stephen Kopel, David Lawton, Richard Loranger, E. K. Mortenson, Nancy Carol Moody, Puma Perl, John Marcus Powell, Bob Quatrone, Seraphime Rhyianir, Lynn Samsel, Jackie Sheeler, Mary McLaughlin Slechta, Elliot D. Smith, Laura L. Snyder, Francesca Sphynx, Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino, Charles F. Thielman, Andrew Topel, John J. Trause, Geoffrey Kagan Trenchard, Stephanie Valente, Jacob Victorine, Ocean Vuong, Bruce Weber and Laura Madeline Wiseman.

ISBN: 978-0-9799792-2-4
Published September 1, 2010

$15.00

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2010-09-01T11:11:00.005-04:00

I’ll be visiting with editor Jane Ormerod and Uphook Press at booth #87. (And I’ll be visiting the Gurdjieff Legacy & Used Esoteric Books booth!)

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2010-08-31T11:11:00.009-04:00

Paradigm of the Tinctures by Steve McCaffery and Alan Halsey is now available as a free ebook via Argotist Ebooks.

“This revised and expanded edition of Paradigm of the Tinctures by Steve McCaffery and Alan Halsey revisits the classic humanist idea of the Sister Arts where poetry is understood to be a speaking picture and a picture a silent poem. The revisitation, however, is bluntly revisionary and the result is a fresh text-graphic dialogue.”

Read The Alan Halsey Interview at the E·ratio Poetry Journal.

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2010-08-21T11:11:00.000-04:00

“Matches Pieta”  after Pietà Surréaliste by Marcel Mariën, 1938.

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2010-08-17T08:12:00.003-04:00

Her motto: toujours gai.

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2010-08-03T11:11:00.007-04:00

“Looking For” by Márton Koppány.

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2010-07-30T08:12:00.001-04:00

Nobel laureate J. M. Coetzee reviews Strange Attractors: Poems of Love and Mathematics edited by Sarah Glaz and JoAnne Growney.

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2010-07-29T11:11:00.000-04:00

American artist Joseph Keppler, center. From the Seattle Group show Spirit Resonance at the Ouch My Eye Gallery, Seattle, WA. See here for photos of his sculpture.

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2010-07-22T11:11:00.001-04:00

The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop, the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. A many comely nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. Even so did they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. And they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the bark clave the waves.

(Episode 12, “Cyclops,” circa 335, 341.)

Anything strange or wonderful?

I think if you’re going to fake it, and sometimes I wonder if that’s not what I’m doing, then there’re some poems and passages you’re going to have to have memorized, and this is such a one. (It’s not enough that you read it and talk about it again and again and again until it’s rote, I mean have you lived it? To live it is to wear it in your face .)

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2010-07-21T08:12:00.007-04:00

The English poet Alan Halsey at the Hay Poetry Jamboree a few weeks ago. “The Salem chapel is where the readings took place. Although I must have walked past it a thousand times I’d never noticed the date of its foundation, right at the start of the English Republic . . . of course boomtime for chapels, in the absence of an earthly king. . . .”

Photo by Scott Thurston.

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2010-07-19T11:11:00.001-04:00

   I have not loved the world, nor the world me, —
   But let us part fair foes; I do believe,
   Though I have found them not, that there may be
   Words which are things, — hopes which will not deceive,
   And virtues which are merciful, nor weave
   Snares for the failing: I would also deem
   O’er others’ griefs that some sincerely grieve;
   That two, or one, are almost what they seem, —
That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream. . . .

Byron, from Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage

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2010-07-16T11:11:00.000-04:00

Modulations is the new volume of eidetic poetry by Márton Koppány.

There was a time when pictures and writing were not as separate as they are today, a time when the picture was given not just to show but to tell; a sort of “picture-writing.” And each “pictograph” was as an aperçu, at once an insight into and a brief digest of the thought to be communicated. The poet Márton Koppány has found for himself a form most becoming of his intuition; each panel here is an aperçu into that space where picture and writing are one, that space where the mind knows the word in the figure of its substance, that space that is language-in-eidos. And so I see Koppány’s panels as “eidographs,” as urtexts of “eidetic poetry.”

Cover image, “or,” by Márton Koppány. Published by Otoliths. Cover design by John Moore Williams.

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2010-07-15T11:11:00.000-04:00

Poem dedication

do not meet me, friend, at the Fort de Vincennes,
at the posts at the Fort de Vincennes

do not expect me, tonight, at the Ambassador’s
where you, and your companion, are regular guests

and do not look for me at the Institute,
where celebrities and intellectuals, and good-looking officers,

toast “this wonder of Western civilization.”
for that, my friend, is the smell of kerosene.

that is not the smell of coffee, but of acorn and chickpea
that is not bread, it is pain noir

that Thought Must Continue Its Mission is the Surrealists’ propaganda
(his tōmatō a red, white and black skull-and-crossbones

insigne)
and I am joining the Zazous.

“Poem dedication” first appeared online at Big Bridge for the War Papers project edited by Halvard Johnson in March of 2008.

This is a poem about collaborators (or, collaborationists — “those who co-operate with an enemy invader of their country”) and one who refuses to be a collaborator. Captured soldiers, spies, Resistance fighters were brought to “the Fort de Vincennes” where they were chained to posts, “the posts at the Fort de Vincennes,” and tortured to force information or confession out of them. The quote, “this wonder of Western civilization,” is attributed to Adolph Hitler, who on June 14, 1940, made a tour of Paris and said, “I gave orders for the troops to find a way around Paris for it is our responsibility to preserve undamaged this wonder of Western civilization.” (Four years later he would demand the city’s destruction.) For information on the Zazous, click here.

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2010-07-13T11:11:00.009-04:00

It’s me, reading at the Mathematical Graffiti Wall event at the Bowery Poetry Club on Saturday, July 10, 2010. Can you read my lips? I’m saying: “A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.”

Mr. Blue Meanie says, “That has nothing to do with mathematical poetry!”

2010-07-11T01:11:00.011-04:00

"Signs" by Mary Ann Sullivan.

Mary Ann Sullivan's e·chap Mending My Black Sweater.

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2010-07-08T11:11:00.000-04:00

The Math-Art Graffiti Wall at the Bowery Poetry Club.

2010-06-29T11:11:00.005-04:00

A great quote by Douglas Hofstadter that I think is pertinent to the debate I’ve been having with Kaz Maslanka and Bob Grumman over my use of analogy in my “mathematical poetry”:

“Analogical thought is dependent on high-level perception in a very direct way. When people make analogies, they are perceiving some aspects of the structures of two situations — the essences of those situations, in some sense — as identical. These structures, of course, are a product of the process of high-level perception.”

From the essay The Pedagogical and Epistemological Uses of Analogy in Poetry and Mathematics by Marcia Birken and Anne C. Coon (and which cites work by fellow mathematical poet JoAnne Growney).

For the debate, see the comments attached to my essays, “On Mathematical Poetry.”

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2010-06-25T08:12:00.006-04:00

Three works in sculpture by the American artist Joseph Keppler.

From the Seattle Group show Spirit Resonance at the Ouch My Eye Gallery, Seattle, WA.

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2010-06-24T11:11:00.004-04:00

Thanks go to JoAnne Growney for taking notice of my posts on mathematical poetry at her blog Intersections -- Poetry with Mathematics. I had the pleasure of meeting JoAnne at the Bowery Poetry Club at the opening of the Mathematical Graffiti wall a couple weeks ago on Friday, June 11. Thanks, JoAnne. What a pleasure meeting you!

“The processes of mathematics offer themselves to the Beckett protagonists as a bridge into number’s realm of the spectrally perfect, where enmired existence may be annihilated by essence utterly declared.”

— Hugh Kenner, Samuel Beckett A Critical Study

2010-06-22T11:11:00.005-04:00

The math-art graffiti wall at The Bowery Poetry Club is taking shape. (If you are reading this, you are invited to get down to the BPC and write some math-graffiti of your own!)

John Sims.

“Here is a poem I did with my NYU students in response to the Sol LeWitt / Adrian Piper show. Each student including myself wrote and recorded a small poem that was stitched together into a hyper poem. Visually each poem was mapped into a binary visualization of pi (see my pi quilt work — same idea). These crossword-looking forms were then mapped back into the original binary form (this gives a sense of self-similiarity as seen in fractals). Now, we created a model of this in animation space. The default flight path is associated with the sequence of pi in base two. As you travel over each section you will hear the voice of the student associated with that sub-poem. However the program allows for any path.” — John Sims

2010-06-10T11:11:00.001-04:00

On Mathematical Poetry (Post Three)

Our third type of “mathematical poetry” — or, rather, of “mathematical poem,” because within the mathematical poetry genre there exists different types of mathematical poem and our three types are but one family type and this expressly concerned with the analogy between “the grammar” of the mathematical proposition and the grammar of the linguistic statement.

Our third type of mathematical poem is based on the “parallel lines” situation in geometry. Our formal symbol, here, will be two horizontal lines, the one parallel to the other, that make for the “parallel lines” situation; however, as we progress, that formal symbol will change, and the change will represent an actual situation come into being, as distinct from a potential situation or from what is simply the place or topos for a future situation, and we will call this actual situation a “transversal.”

So while we may speak of two formal symbols, we will actually be using only one formal symbol. Why then still speak of a first formal symbol and what does it mean in relation to our poem? To that end, let’s gain some perspective on this first formal symbol (and on formal symbols as such):

In my Logoclasody Manifesto I included a brief addendum entitled “On Mathematical Poetry” and there I put forth a proposition, a challenge of sorts, to myself and to the mathematical poet. Every good student en route to Aquinas via Copleston will have come upon this proposition, which in situ is for the relation between substance and accident, namely those qualities and relations which exist only as qualities and relations of that of which they are predicated. Here is my rendering of that proposition — and in the form of a challenge, of sorts, to myself and to the mathematical poet:

Write for me the mathematical sentence equivalent of the sentence, “Peter is sitting on the chair.” Write for me the mathematical sentence equivalent of “sitting on” existing as an entity apart from any sitter.

There is a distinction here, between “Peter is sitting on the chair” and “sitting on” per se. We might speak of “sitting on” as a position without magnitude, or, as abstract as opposed to concrete (and indeed in that you cannot picture it!), or, as empty, or, as without specification, or, as being in the same position as a formal symbol. The formal symbol, per se, is empty; it is without circumstance; it is like a predicate without a subject (thinkable only in the abstract); and in the case of our first formal symbol, the parallel lines, what we have is a situation in posse, a place in posse, a topos in posse, awaiting some action or state of affairs. This state of affairs is brought on by the transversal line, which crosses both parallel lines thus bringing them via their formal relation into an actual relation, or, indeed, into many possible relations, each signaled by the angle and by analogy with the angle the many possible poetic and ideational senses.

Formally, parallel lines are situational, they are the place, the topos, where things come to happen. That happening is the transversal line (and the angles or by analogy the poetic and ideational senses it carries with it). Our poem, then, which we will name “the transversal poem,” requires a formal symbol other than the two horizontal lines that indicate the parallel lines situation; our symbol will have to indicate or show or signal to the reader that here is an actual situation; that here is a poem, and that here we must consent to the intention of the poem; that we must as it were enter into the confidence of the poem. Our formal symbol then will be thus

     ≠

and will thus be known in this context as the “transversal poem.”

And our poem will take this structure, or, syntax or arrangement:

     lines ≠ spirals

     particles ≠ waves

     constancy ≠ change

     permanence ≠ transience

The transversal line, along with the angles it suggests, is then analogous to the many senses brought about by the juxtaposition of our words (of the poetic elements or ideas or images we bring to our formal symbols situation). Those angles, or, senses, or, “transversals,” if you will, exist side-by-side, and as often do complementary, competing and contradictory ideas. Some of these ideas can be said to exist in a state of “perpendicularity” or to be at right angles with each other, which is to be “at odds with each other.” Such as:

     multiculturalism ≠ ethnocentricity

     government ≠ media

     determinism ≠ character and motive

     turpitude ≠ enlightenment

     a poetics ≠ an attitude

     creationism ≠ evolution

     god man ≠ monkey man

Some “transversal poems”:

     the order of ideas ≠ the order of causes

     the causal relation ≠ the relation of logical implication

     word ≠ memory

     paradox ≠ semantic tension

     attractive ≠ repulsive

     force ≠ matter

     edgèd words ≠ edgeless words (sounds)

     milquetoast ≠ white bread

     iteration ≠ chromaticism

Our next post will be about “mathematical prose.”

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2010-06-07T08:12:00.004-04:00

On Mathematical Poetry (Post Two)

So we set ourselves a task — to work by way of the analogy between the grammatical and the mathematical — and we formulated a definition — the “mathematical poem,” if it is to be, or to contain, poetry, must have some poetic elements, as well as some formal symbols and operations of math — and we posted a set of examples of a “mathematical poetry.” Let’s name this type of math poem “mutually inverse operations.”

     Change + purse = church.
     kite + propeller = wing.
     to + to = too.
     am = be + I
     secrets = ? + whispers

Now let’s move on to another type of “mathematical poetry.” This type will also be based on our analogy, only here our analogy undergoes a slight modification.

The idea is to write a “mathematical poetry” based on the analogy between the “grammar of the number system and of the mathematical equation” and the grammar of the linguistic sentence.

So, whereas the "mutually inverse operations" were concerned with the formal symbols and operations of our math, here we’re going to be concerned with structure, which is to say, with arrangement, with system, with the rules for writing math in analogy with the syntax or with the rules for the arrangement of the words in the linguistic sentence.

NB: Grammar is concerned with the structure of a language and the rules and principles of its use. Morphology is concerned with the forms and formation of words. Semantics is concerned with the relations between words and the changes in the meanings of words. Syntax is concerned with sentence construction, with the relation of words as parts of the structures of sentences. Our concern, here, is going to be with syntax.

So, this is our task:

The idea is to write a “mathematical poetry” based on the analogy between the “grammar of the number system and of the mathematical equation” and the grammar of the linguistic sentence.

To do this, we’re going to take the “place value” system in arithmetic (where within a number each digit is given a place value depending on its location — for instance: millions, hundred-thousands, ten-thousands, thousands, hundreds, tens, units) as an analogue to the syntax (the syntactic structure, or, arrangement) of grammar (where sentences are generated by means of a series of choices made from left to right as after the first, or leftmost, element has been selected, every subsequent choice is determined by the immediately preceding elements).

Consider the “place-value system” of the Fibonacci numbers:

     0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34 . . .

Each number is the sum of the two numbers before it. Each number in the sequence is the sum of the previous two.

Let’s name this type of math poem, “place-value poems” and we’ll call our first one, which is also a haiku,

“Molotov’s Sister”

a blonde bomber,she.smokes filterless,plays upright bass & writes haiku

NB: There is no space before and after the comma and the decimal point.

The separation of sentence elements takes this form:

noun,pronoun.verb,verb conjunction verb

Here are some more “place-value poems”:

undistorted,Zeno’s perceptions.so says Simplicius

Iamblichos,AKA “ruffian,”slew.old Apollodoros

Anaximander’s walking stick,his evening constitutional.

Semele,importunate summons,the environing naught

Sos’thenes,our brother.called by God

Next, in post number three, we’ll see another type of “math poem” and we'll take a look at “mathematical prose.”

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2010-06-04T11:11:00.023-04:00

On Mathematical Poetry (Post One)

I’m titling this series of posts “On Mathematical Poetry” and in the days and weeks to come I’ll be revisiting and revising and emending my thoughts as necessary.

In my Logoclasody Manifesto I included a brief addendum entitled “On Mathematical Poetry” and there I stated what I hold to be the most important point in the whole mathematical poetry endeavor:

There has to be considered the analogy between the grammatical sentence (the linguistic sentence) and the mathematical sentence (the mathematical equation). Already (“mathematical sentence”) I’m thinking analogically.

There has to be considered the analogy between the grammar of the sentence and the “mathematics” of the equation (i.e., of the mathematical statement).

And these are the examples I gave:

     Change + purse = church.
     kite + propeller = wing.
     to + to = too.
     am = be + I
     secrets = ? + whispers

Here I offer a working definition of “mathematical poetry”:

The “mathematical poem,” if it is to be, or to contain, poetry, must have some poetic elements, as well as some formal symbols and operations of math.

I want to emphasize that by “operations of math” I do not mean that the poem will be “doing math.” What I mean is that the poem will be, in some way or in some sense — be that metaphorical, allegorical, but for the most part figurative — mimicking or imitating or finding a trope in that operation (whichever that operation may be). (I emphasize: I do not mean that the poem is “doing math.” Math does math. The poem is representational.)

If these are my formal symbols (and as such indicative of operations):

     +, =

What then are my poetic elements?

     ideas and images

(i.e., “to,” “am” and “be” are ideas, while “kite” and “propeller” are images, and an image can at the same time be an idea, and be as general or abstract as it can be specific or concrete)

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2010-06-02T11:11:00.000-04:00

This Saturday, June 5, 2010, will be “Jack Foley Day” in Berkeley, California. On this day Jack Foley will receive a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Berkeley Poetry Festival .

Congratulations, Jack Foley.

Walking Across Brooklyn Bridge

by Jack Foley

As we walked across the Bridge,
  I thought of Hart Crane
    (poor suicidal poet)
      & of Joseph Stella
whose paintings are like chords struck
  on the harp strings
    of this amazing edifice
Crane saw The Waste Land
  as a condemnation
    of modern industrial society
      (“so negative”)
    His answer was
      this marvel
    of spidery, delicate cables
      which swoop us into skies
of unspeakable beauty
“sleepless as the river under thee”
(Eliot: “Fear death by water”)
  Our guide, Gregory,
quietly told us stories,
      raged against the sometimes reckless bikers,
        & watched our wonder
            as we walked
        across this passageway
        from busy life to busy life—
            this “between”
          suspended over water—
            that took us
            into the sky
          & home to Brooklyn

With Jack Foley in NYC, 2005.

2010-05-27T08:12:00.017-04:00

My short novel, Stephen’s Lake, has been reviewed by Matt Margo for Goodreads. Stephen’s Lake is published by xPress(ed) at Lulu. Cover by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen.

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2010-05-26T08:12:00.002-04:00

Videostills from the videopoems “Green” and “I am and I am not” by Doris Neidl.

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2010-05-21T11:11:00.003-04:00

“Liberty,” by Nico Vassilakis.

Read more of Nico Vassilakis, here.
And with Nancy Burr, here.

2010-05-11T11:11:00.007-04:00

If you’re there or if you can make it to Seattle, The Seattle Group, featuring Joseph F. Keppler, is having a show at The Ouch My Eye Gallery. Joseph F. Keppler and I have collaborated on an e-chap, it is entitled, 3 Poems Introduced by Joseph F. Keppler.

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2010-05-07T23:11:00.004-04:00

Tonight I made it over to Granary Books (on Mercer, in Soho) for a talk by one of our living masters, the remarkable Jerome Rothenberg. The occasion was an installment in an ongoing series of talks and presentations all to do with the phenomenon of the book and, on this particular occasion, of the book as it has appeared in the poetry and in the art of Professor Rothenberg and his collaborators, which have been co-publishers, co-editors, co-scholars, translators, artists and other poets. The setting was intimate and perfect, being close enough to hear every word and close enough to discern every facial expression. In addition to recounting his adventures, and sometimes larks and capers, as a poet self-publishing and publishing the works of others, and of the various types and productions of books ranging from the most economical to the most sophisticated and sumptuous, professor also spoke on ethnopoetics and on the dichotomy of the spoken word and the written word, of the presence in speech and of the absence in the printed. Several of his books were passed around for us to peruse. The one that made the deepest impression on me was entitled The Burning Babe & Other Poems, a collaboration with the artist Susan Bee.

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2010-05-01T11:11:00.010-04:00

This year I am resolved to attend as many poetry readings and events as possible; regretably for me, but happily for poetry, there are so many such events that I, that one, am given to pick and choose. In this my instincts have not failed me. Yesterevening I made it over to Unnameable Books (600 Vanderbilt, Prospect Heights, Brooklyn) for what turned out to be a very special reading. How could I pass on Kate Greenstreet, Janet Holmes, Brenda Iijima and Stephanie Strickland? I was excited to see Brenda Iijima again, who is quickly becoming one of my favorites, and to meet Stephanie Strickland who I am sharing a bill with at the Rhythm of Structure mathematical poetry event come this July. In fact Ms. Strickland started off her reading with a math poem—and as she read, I could see, there appeared . . . octahedrons and tetrahedrons and icosahedrons and these spun, and, then, poof, they disappeared. Especially rewarding was meeting Kate Greenstreet who I’ve been admiring from afar ever since I read Scott Wilkerson’s review of her Case Sensitive. I introduced myself to Ms. Greenstreet and she was so charming. I’m now reading her new volume, The Last 4 Things (Ahsahta Press, 2009). Janet Holmes read from her volume, THE MS OF M Y KIN—“If you write out ‘The Poems of Emily Dickinson’ and erase some of the letters very neatly and precisely, you can get to THE MS OF M Y KIN—the manuscript of my kin, as it were; the manuscript of my family. It might also be said to be the manuscript of my kind.” A good thought, and one that sends me inward, in the realization that I have yet to meet my own poetic family, or, kind. I don’t know . . . I thought poetry was all about not fitting in and being different, now it seems it’s all about sounding alike and shunning difference . . . différance. . . .

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2010-04-30T08:12:00.003-04:00

Colin Wilson, author of The Outsider, The Occult, and Poetry and Mysticism, in 1956. I had the pleasure of interviewing the magus back in 2006. Read the interview: Colin Wilson on poetry and the peak experience.

And here is the trailer for a new documentary on Colin Wilson:

Some more info here.

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2010-04-29T08:12:00.022-04:00

I'm beginning to brush up on all things "mathematical poetry." The Kaz Maslanka installation was a smashing success. (And it's so nice to be able to say "smashing success" and really mean it.) I'm excited to see what Kaz brings to the Rhythm of Structure event. And I'm excited at the prospect that Bob Grumman might be coming up from his home in FL. I've only met Bob once before and only briefly. Here is a link to an essay I wrote on Bob's "Mathemaku" poetry, it's entitled:

Notes on Bob Grumman's Mathemaku and on Mathematical Poetry Generally.

That essay will give you an idea of what I think of and of how I construe "mathematical poetry" (as basically a "making permanent of the transitory," which is what I maintain poetry does generally). Soon I'll post some samples of my own "mathematical poetry," along with a brief essay explaining it, and that'll be a sort of preview of the perspective or angle I'll be bringing to my responses to the "Mathematical Graffiti" at the Rhythm of Structure show. And I'll be posting about John Sims, the curator, mastermind and impresario behind this whole thing! So if you're reading this and you're at all interested, stay tuned. . . .

Follow Rhythm of Structure on Facebook and at the Bowery Poetry Club.

Click here, please, for an article on the Rhythm of Structure series in Art in America and for a photo of John Sims with the former Poet Laureate Mark Strand. And here, from an article in Nature, is John Sims on math and the arts:

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2010-04-25T23:11:00.006-04:00

I made it to Zinc Bar (82 W. 3rd St. in the Village) tonight for a reading by Nick Piombino and Brenda Iijima. The occasion was the release of Contradicta: Aphorisms (Green Integer Press) by Nick Piombino, and with illustrations by Toni Simon, and If Not Metamorphic (Ahsahta Press) by Brenda Iijima. There was also a music-and-projection performance by one Pattern Diver (AKA Mike Burakoff). "Pattern" is the word for the music-and-projection piece, as this was basically color patterns oscillating (the word for variations) to the music. As these things go one must rely on the taste and good sense of the artist, because these things can get tedious fast, but Pattern Diver kept it under control, and for that I'm glad I had a chance to experience his work, and I would welcome encountering more. In such a setting it's difficult to appreciate the acutenesses and subtleties of Piombino's contradicta, which are after all aphorisms, and pretty "deep" aphorisms at that. In such a setting one picks up on the wit and humor of the sentences, as alas their deeper meanings go fleeting by. So be it, the point is to be in the presence of the author (the authors, both Nick Piombino and Toni Simon), and for that I'm happy. This was my first time seeing Brenda Iijima, and I'm very happy to have discovered someone new whose work I can get into. I'm looking forward to seeing her again. I thought both Piombino's and Iijima's reading times were too brief. Overall the program was fine, but I could easily give up on the music-and-projection business for more of the poetry.

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2010-04-10T11:11:00.028-04:00

Last night I made it over to The LAB Gallery for the opening of Morgan O’Hara’s SPRING LAB, her latest site-specific drawing which is part of her ongoing “Live Transmissions” series.

“Live Transmissions” are made by a process in which O’Hara, with a pencil in each hand, records the left and right hand movements of an observed subject performing a task. Drawing methodically with multiple razor-sharp pencils and both hands, as time-based performance, O’Hara condenses movement into accumulations of graphite line. Such tasks have included knitting a sweater, a farmer’s wife digging up asparagus, a musician performing on piano and street pavers setting paving stones. The result is an abstracted map of the subject’s gestures.

“Movement of the hands of  Conductor Riccardo Chailly”  while conducting the Concertgebouw Orchestra in Mahler’s Symphony No 4.  first movement,  Carnegie Hall, New York City, 10 February 2000.

Here’s a video of the installation.

Morgan O’Hara

O’Hara’s works impress me as being neat and articulate.

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2010-04-01T11:11:00.003-04:00

E·ratio Poetry Journal celebrates poetry with The Alan Halsey Interview.

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2010-02-25T08:12:00.017-05:00

Visionary poet and mathematician Kaz Maslanka is bringing a special installation to NYC for The LAB Gallery at the Roger Smith (at 47th and Lex.). The installation will run from March 5th to March 26th, 2010, only.

Click here to see a “computer aided design mockup” showing the main structure of the installation.

Click here to read my interview with Kaz Maslanka.

Click here for Kaz Maslanka’s blog, Mathematical Poetry, and for updates and videos about the installation.

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2010-01-02T08:12:00.002-05:00

a noun sing e·ratio 13 · 2010 · featuring the Alan Halsey interview

with poetry by Laynie Browne, Jill Jones, Jane Adam, Jeff Encke, Joseph F. Keppler, Mark Cunningham, Jadon Rempel, Keith Higginbotham, Anne Fitzgerald, and Halvard Johnson

e·ratio editions e-chaps by Travis Macdonald and Carey Scott Wilkerson

and featuring The Alan Halsey Interview

edited by Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino

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2009-12-18T11:11:00.015-05:00

Read me in Poets and Artists January 2010 v3.1.

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2009-12-06T08:12:00.007-05:00

Cover art by Eddy Burger for Cordite Poetry Review #31, EPIC. To see Eddy Burger's complete set of illustrations, click here.

Cordite 31: EPIC is edited by Ali Alizadeh. Read Ali Alizadeh's excellent editorial, here.

Read my poem, "The Archaeology of Palestine," here.

Cordite Poetry Review is directed by David Prater.

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2009-11-13T11:11:00.002-05:00

from In White Writing by Alan Halsey

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2009-10-16T11:11:00.005-04:00

It’s not so much that I am reading Skip Fox’s book, Delta Blues, as that I am having an encounter with it. And all that “encounter” suggests; as in, say, confrontation. This is subway reading without the subway. As I get older I begin to appreciate different writers; as I get older I begin to appreciate different writers writing differently. Writers like Pete Hamill and Phillip Lopate, who belong, really, to someone else’s generation. I think it’s in the confrontation, and in what is being confronted. (They’re not the same.) In Delta Blues (2009, Ahadada Books) Skip Fox confronts life. (Wait. . . .) Life in the form of other people. Mr. Fox has a definite interest in life, and more perhaps than in being alive. (Got the difference?) There’s something Roman going on here, and that’s a tough scene to master. I want to index these pieces according to subject. And list of names mentioned.

p. 3 “Blue Note: A Valentine for the New Millennium”

p. 25 “Cavatina” and footnote.

p. 40 footnote.

p. 42 “COmMA.”

p. 43 from “Tombstones for the New Millennium”:

“Imagine jail time for asinine ideas that catch hold and sprout in the barren cultural soil of this nation-planet.”

p. 80 from “Notes toward Definitions for the New Millennium”:

“I wonder what constitutes blockhead, as Olson and Creeley called Corman in correspondence. His dull self-insistence, perhaps. Sufficiently stupid and petulant. Smothered in lethargic gravy. Fog of an identity.”

riddle of the abyss

age is telling a long joke, with some apparent joy, early
at a party, not all the guests have yet arrived, a first
drink freshly in your hand, he’s an interesting stranger in
no hurry, pausing for laughs, comments, not prolonging
the punch line but forgiving it its necessities, standing and
laughing and listening, slowly he reaches the part about
deepest Pacific blue and the sound of sails at sunset, how
their color changes in the changing light, shades of white
in encroaching darkness, pewter, you are still young, any-
thing can happen, yet is a word you can still use as a soft
wedge, argumentation may again be filled with joy, now
for witness of sheer mind’s leaping, but his words have
slowed, slightly, and his head almost turns, then with a
light shift in his eye, oh yes, the abyss, I almost forgot

Mr. Fox’s Delta Blues takes various narrative forms (including visual poetry). I found the poems “solstice two days out” and “solstice two days out, take two” to be especially compelling (and something of the eidetics of an askesis).

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2009-10-09T23:11:00.000-04:00

This afternoon I had the pleasure of visiting at Granary Books (on Mercer, in Soho). What a thrill to be among such fine poetry, such fine books (art objects and artists’ books, “small edition books”), and such fine people. Thank you, Steve Clay, for welcoming me.

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2009-10-03T11:11:00.017-04:00

Read my poem An Georgics at EOAGH.

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2009-08-07T08:12:00.005-04:00

"Vacation" by Márton Koppány

KOPPÁNY WAVES TO E·RATIO EDITIONS.

E·ratio Editions is happy to announce the publication of Waves, an e-chap by Márton Koppány.

See Márton Koppány's work online at e·ratio:

IT IS THE SAME
Dedication Poems

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2009-08-01T08:12:00.001-04:00

Postcards, 1994.

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