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...
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
haibun || Sheila E. Murphy
The sift brought on five fevers synonymous with twelve silent reeds. Words ceased to be anonymous pointing to common mistakes. The cult revolved around themselves. Moved at their own pace / risk / will. Emergencies are what you foster. Biding someone else’s timetable. Enliven every ounce of grist for now. The formal silver shakes mercurial. She used to play with it for all its properties of subdivision endlessly. Now, same game forfeited. In due course, rinse can mean a sampled river. Equally the ample frost over a warm calliope. Is that fanciful completion something like a dime upon the desk? Or more like vaulting over loaned executive suspicion? If not,then why be reasonable more than once? The furniture seems quiz-worthy at two, again at four. The war used to be startling. Now the trusted one has returned home where she will shepherd at her leisure progeny who so resemble, they appear to dovetail with her urgencies.
Narcissistic code, the devilish learned dream, equator-prone and almost everlasting