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 matt margo at firstname.lastname@example.org for consideration...
Saturday, November 24, 2012
haibun || Sheila E. Murphy
Timber versus timbre, don't you think? The lariat once tough now blistered slinks along the moving walkway. Remember, man, and so forth. Wampum made noble by the tinctured eyesight brings forth claims of lackadaisical young blunders. When one expresses thanks, one reveals beneathment. Equally, the love in danger of its lorn-ness chafes whatever possible deformity might bring forth crazed entropy. When you want things to go south, just point. Last night's dream had no apostrophe. For now, what's rumored to be good, elaborates on moments. Live once, relive, relieve, retrieve. A sense of sotto slumber overcasts the pretty moon. Who says anything will not be possible? The good once sorted, trims inferior. The great divide will fracture. Pick up pieces, shape a piecemeal peace. Find rest you made yourself amid these tainted weeds.
Lambent sequels, changed initiation, an imaginary splice