texts that change the conscious parameters of literature, both for readers and writers. from a different angle than these, r.p. blackmur adds: 'poetry: [is] ...language so twisted and posed in a form that...it adds to the stock of available reality.' now that blogger has included the ability to reproduce fonts more accurately, alpha-numeric visual-poetry will be welcomed for consideration. formerly edited by peter ganick. send texts to Volodymyr Bilyk at firstname.lastname@example.org for consideration...
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
poem || Edward Nichols
Contrasting caricutures constitutionalized the tragic semi-conduit of lavaratory containments indigenous condemnation of concrete concertos creeping along the sound barrier of decaying notes, much akin to a swan. Riveting ringlets of conferring ruthless anthologies of subdued withering habits of containment, remembrances of coincidal letters sent to the cosmos so refrains of sudden shudders answer on a plying platform of contagious innuendos fleeing just out of reach as pluralities substitute a resentment of communal platitudes measuring the gusts of vagrant samples of territorial torrential impulses complying with the cut of life which we all feel.
Contradictory attainment retrieved sodden manuscripts dripping words to the vastness of nothingness. Reactionary futures resemble the past and sojourn into pools of sadness. I stand in it in my barefeet ,on one foot, it soaking through my sole, the planetary vibrations of archetypes. Rarely have I witnessed such a downtrodden existence. I am the great nothingness. Existential darkness. Determined to break through the blocks and say what I want to say. It's just out of reach. I reach until I can't strain anymore. I realize it has written me.