Wednesday, September 23, 2015

poem || Lawrence Upton

LIES – for voice(s) and dancer(s)

The conference discussed the availability of air across the whole planet.
Dancer(s) begin their dance, not pausing.
How much, it was asked, is an allowable quantity of air per capita?
Dancer(s)' activity becomes jerky and rapid.
No one knew, but one radical said that air and harmony are inseparable.
Dancer(s) fall down.
A lady stood up and declared herself to be damp.
Dancer(s) rise.
You have expressed all of our feelings, said a lady counsellor.
Dancer(s) try to fly.
The meeting had to be adjourned.
Dancer(s) fall down.
The baby was yelling mama. Its mother leaned over
Dancer(s) embrace.
as if to bite it.
The meeting had to be adjourned because, it was said, the conference led to passion.
Dancer(s) cuddle.
And additionally it was arid.
Dancer(s) pick their way.
The conversation was arid.
Dancer(s) stare at each other.
But all ran on together concurrently, heedless of the chill, fleeing the abyss into adjournment, craving further admissions of guilt from the apprentice.
Dancer(s) improvise.
They were quite candid. They dug at their coats for fleas. They made assumptions about arguments. They were the cleverest canines alive. Their cleverness was implicit. They barked up all the wrong trees.
And afterwards, on the authority of a handwriting expert, their authority had to be adjusted.
Dancer(s) flee.
They hid inside an alcove, being candid.
Dancer(s) shake.
The chill of their adjudication quieted the audience.
Dancer(s) waltz.
There was an answer, but no one understood it.
Dancer(s) sleep.
I want you to be candid, said Julia; but, as I say, she didn't listen to the answer.
Afterwards they had to drag the meat of the kill abreast.
Dancer(s) improvise.
Additionally a few of their adversaries made an appeal to the expedition as it offered them a calendar showing photographs of the brilliance of the sun.

3 poems || Felino A. Soriano

a selection from configuring recollections

from 0 – X



or, Sunday phantom of explanatory unheard


an intuitive spectrum of behavior installs programmed response:

Chinese Food:

same size meal as prior participation: fried rice, egg foo young, pan fried chow mein, sweet and sour pork, . . .


                                    the meal did not become an aspect of that evening’s
                                    habitual performance:

my brother, four/or/five , not yet            winged

leapt with limited


                  over (nearly) the chained separation of park and parking lot—

his unhinged leap, a

causational circumference encircling asymmetrical weight to find
the fist of his forehead bang against the asphalt’s risen penetration—


oh, the blood was a symmetrical existence of explained
accidental injury:                        toward the emergency room and waiting hands to

stitch the wound into a subsequent reflection of triangular scar . . .

the Chinese food could wait

until the heal became clarity of fear’s teaching articulatio

without knowing

    how would my eight years
program silence into tolerating

broken rhythms, the holding of a
friendship’s yesterday version: bike

riding onto homemade ramps with

noon’s double-arms reaching into
vertical time, royal clapping at

not falling/flailing into a perfect

landing within the sidewalk’s
good hand; our riding was

a display of skilled mobility, ambulatory
notions etching a facsimile of the crows
our neighborhood wore among hours and
thinking silence—

a riddle arrived at home, my
bedroom door
opened into haze and saddened
physiognomy of parental affection:

your friend

was hit, —a driver did not see the acrobats
of his pedals moving and

when he hit the bumper of the blurred blue


         his body, a torpid         configuration
of flail and unbalanced


landed into pain, scream—

my hearing absconded—

my fear



experience, annual

concentrated to winter methodology

autumn dissipation                 winter wearing

alabaster cold
-weather clothing

. . . my family within the rented

small hand of a cabin’s dedicated simplicity

outside the hand of what kept warmth whole

we’d become moving games of mobile interactions

of architecting snowmen

with sledding onto mazes of contouring hallways


       endeavor a
timeline of intuitive discovery, fulfilled articulation

poem || Jeff Harrison

On the Witchery Edge of Life
dark a arc sticks

brings goes bursts

perish, twigs / now, here,
a cluster of ten blind bones

sift thru them, ok, rather
than leaf thru that sunlight

dark a arc sticks

brings goes bursts

on the witchery edge of life
poems eclipse more useful frippery
(dark a arc sticks / brings goes bursts
and its surrounding poem When Sun
Had Unrest It Was Found Under Boats,
very ferny all fissures, I flush shade with
each of her steps toward the sticks)

2 poems || James Diaz

Survey Says

Born and raised in a tornado/ hello how are you/ yes I believe in god and country and... oh I thought you wanted my political face/ well you should have been more specific/ I know the world is burning I'm holding the matches but their not mine, I was born with an original sin in my hands/ they make you so broken by day one you think your name is broken/ and it's a great surprise to find out that it's not/ what was the question again?
Go Fuck Yerself

For this // all yellow // by - long highways // rookie posers in laundromats hanging out their gold // such is easy // brick through bone // you'll come into my song through the pillow case of my eyelids // hurling secrets // crunching steel // I mistake the cause // here there is nowhere // miles to nowhere // ( climb the coward ) ghost voice through power lines // criminal bunkers and desert Malibu's // hasn't occurred // I'll be your object // I'll be the incision you take to bed //
so much rain for a bad bruise //
hotel sink //
microwave highway //
service ( service ) it's a dream //
it's a washout ( to you phantom ) //
love not saying //
word to body //
rocks a whore of a moon to sleep //
through contaminated lagoons and empty plays pounding the stage //
proliferation noise //
come destroy my world //
with you're hand grenade eyes and icicle tail //
swimming in toilet bowls ( god's soup ) and skeleton days //
constantly afraid //
it comes this way //
cut through //
a lousy deal //
the plate of love is a synagogue of hell.

Does your strung out mouth still feel all of this 
on 14th st
the glow that for a single moment
casts you in a certain light
a certain feeling that it might all work out
but it won't
you must know this by now.
You must.

text || rob flint

Automatic: One. The object puts itself back into: (2) the way you said it, copied and used later by a figure of authority to praise feelings, but with a different group of people, who, in their quote quote unquote homestead sparse are starved of humility slash change slash the economy. Sectarian. Outward, from green: a signal to show willingness. Popularity attributed to rapid growth. Links for. The way they are tinted, or treated. Tumbled up. Side action. Earlier recording. Four. I’m: a word, used to indicate the self. Margin excised. Possession. Any aspect of: Two. Appearances. Nor is there a probable cause. (Presented by carer at earlier session). Locate lever. Harder to select. Caring intensity increases gradually. Thankful for. Two (2) Predicted by carding. No, willingly. Shamefaced. No change. Seven: the edges. Or any indication of how this should be spoken. Loud gains. Measurements of their likelihood. Abbreviation. To gift limply without feelings. Praisebatch four: The use of material taken to have meant sedition. Self-returning principles being: electricity, or praise in general, not internationalised. For (4) lined practice shows scratch carefully isolated. Dimensions variable. Isolation remains. Ease control. Automatic One.

4 texts || Edward Nichols


    MEGACAMPOLISTIC  ,  Elanomy , cloerowpatra  ensegkneeah blooming

(toadspills). Clear streamings of very much  unvacated  unseen  wondrous powerpools  waiting  (for the tribe ----  don't take things ,....HA! sew seer reel us Lee,.......Also  William  S.  Burroughs "alias'). To  help  if  simply called on. Topical.Blob. Spirited moans occupy the  bladgere. Germ cognitive in  reprisal...Canon f customonial proseedings  four  cure --  clay  (melding in  surprise  mélange). Birr ashes mudnified in pucunane tifice.
         You know it despite lack of  information.  (disdain is  maladjustment  in  reverse). Screening  for  subtextual memoranda Flooring gynecological measures. reimburse practicaly every  consortium made up of wave after wave.Property wax TALLOWED- OUT, but, frequented localities appropriated   surreptitiously flaunting -----   ICE --  PSEUDO --    Construction Hyperbowl ---  Hyperbolt ---   megnear -- possible --(belch) --- HOLOgram ===illustrative --bauble-----   TACET----(what was written on  John  Cages  "Score" for piano - means to not play). Polydot ---SNOT ----- TONS -----   chemical.  Xumibene Bifkline Buskafme === Onre = Cazkure  ===Farg - Cleft == Wail ===  Bone.  

        Olfacto  purseahveer in toetalitea swerving ballister ramp formalizes troene phililbuzzer. Attaskmint. Blump.====(biene)
                                              Clodsacks  reinforce
                                               Whatever  eyewitness.
                                              meant whatever you kneaded.

Coma  uppance and a stupid question.  Pretensile mortification. Premier geodesic anomaly.Plod forward. Verbatim accordions link in code.Fluid constancy recognizes no one._______Plottable potable plants of somarific clause expediates.  (segue experimentia plug  on an test - tube).

          Hermes - The alignment hyplicaric only tolamizes a glizlens lighser bylmerized tyzetrimes.Mollusks pael = posted extratterestial -- fish molecules that had arrivedin their vicinity. They could talk, but, it wasn't like any of the speech they had heard from humans..

           Wagner - Orpheonus mallanue etrinus hedge - growed the dough - bro, and, clutter-guttered in utteredants proditions of intwoignitions croddling along at a snails pace.-_-_-_METAPHAMORILOGICAL-_-_-_-Transceendental Blagarts sagging meticulously  watching blabbercasting.___________BLOSH ___   BLOSH   ______  BLOSH  {I have a stream I want to record) _____  SYNTHETIC  NOTHINGNESS _________  
          Dr. Dent - Permeable utterances enter a micromere context conceptual texture mitigatible concretely.Tenuable centipede  centimeters congregate intrepidly literately worthiness. Permutatonsphenomenoligistical cadences solvences meritical abundance cherishes metered ascendency to palaver imitation impregnation. unusual bly serenades the complacencof dormancy in comical relief.


       TTyyooebbbbbbbbbixxxxx       Ttttt    tTHIS IS ALL   EEEe  EYE WAn-----ton   2

SaaaY   TOO    BEeiNggg  EgG------ _________
Zisss   (teNNNSSE)---____---===    Ss)sSss---   NoT   (inG)0)(3030)))(G)(Ham)               wWWH-_-___--_--___ATTT     EYEEYEEE

ThaW    TtTiddDllL---Ew                 wOOD2bBEEEaura9(snot)eatWAdbEEEEEEE33               I   nks S s     zzzzzz qqqQQQ



        Ze   PAGE  Holiaristjc  expediatees     The deletes                        prescence    of BROMEDIAN 

Actuate and except the alias is of aareeeean Mostake . Sumtimex just piece
together and it=======Aleatorically comes together. NOBODY ,.
Haz TWO  actuate and accept  ANYTHING. IT'S  A
IT      Was  More than   NO more  
THAN   A  PEASE  put  together randomly,


                  Cazkure ===Cleft   Farge    Xumibene    BIlkine.   WAIL   BONE  
AZZured. TONICS are  set place.The Original  theme was all that Bric-A-Brac
About  SIn.
And as far as anythingoes about Bromedian TUNES That are hissed. That is simply
a aleatoric _-_FORTE-----EXcurssion   MERELY    WAS   a "COINCIDENCE"
That came out ,streaming BART\\\\ A chance  stream of circumstances
Noone has to screening for subtextual memoranda  BELCH ----__====(accept0==
====Pacifier-===Encryption====AS   YOURS==== Than the man in  the moon
A FRICTION  that  (fiction)  that came out. 
     Eye   did DENT NO   whai came comes out of these things  ======  Like 
JOHN CAGE  ======  CHANCE ===Operations.
That's  AWL EYE   MINT  2 Say.
I  =====I=====I  ======  Donut_-_======Wanton===== Too====O
Oh FINNED anyone WIDTH    mie    mie   mie   mie   RIGHTings
AWL    Rungs   KNOW  Oh  Fence   Mint,
Peaces of  Piece two gather is all I Wanton  four  EVER
Eh, boadee,   

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

3 poems || John Pursch

Any Spectral Flub

If hassled threesomes skim
laminated hills from sordid hasps,
why do willows gather tuning orts
for terminal sundaes?

Creeping up the waypoint legs
of bulging radio philosophers
on cantered serif schooner
ogling missions,
sobbing boxcar hyphens
allocate a mightily betrothed
aluminum crunch
to handy stepwise
punchy kneejerk paddy flagons,
grazing crusty Asian potentates
with seedy shot archival locks
of serried paramours.

Perhaps a futile slop equator
could’ve blinded any spectral
flub of coven crater mistletoe
from leaking future pox
into sequential sties,
refurbishing an upturned fossil.

Festival Rolaids

Peculated hairline stature
waves in coiling public Sundays,
Tagalog entreaty shams, and
selfless bisque of flagstone firs,
shedding prurient disease
for slammed giraffes.

Highly carbonated uncles
remark on everyday repairs,
cruising to breakpoint copulation
quarters of smoky backstop galleries
and sullied stodgy turnout wader
chorus climbs to suppurating
schoolhouse pleats.

Pummeled wastrels dangle
over daily gain calamities,
bulging picket farce impact
from cheesy holograms
of pocket glint and
festered knuckle onset.

Testy voters dive for
segue contraptions,
amending life preservers
with lungs of lusty column kids,
pinned to festival Rolaids.

Crushed Congolese

Swabbed eloping nylons  
founder on a clump of shale,
all but mown to bubbled hair
by blurry chilled Caucasians.

They simper into gallon wigs
of tempting dressage pods,
inhaling licensed tundra sleet
with pastel mobsters,
engulfed in exercise.

Laid into unseemly tusks,
savory caricatures reduce
ungainly precedents
to nubile headwaiters
in swank imputed cowlicks
of screen door sheen
beyond a scaffold’s
slackened drawstring,
trailing rain.

Bogged totes congeal
to wheelie boosts,
staging couched peonies
for expressive charlatans,
bonging crushed Congolese.

poem || Scott Thomas Outlar

Six into Seven

Tongue tied, twisted up in knots,
catching a cold case of three ring circus
in the back of the throat –
spit it out, lest ye choke
on the circumstantial evidence
of a turncoat phrase…laid to waste
by the treachery of a silver knife
pressed tight to the side of a jugular vein
juggling the pain in front of the king –
laughing obscene, howling through dreams
of an empire’s rage…wasteland on full display.
Oil fields and diamond shafts
shutterstep across plasma silicon valley persuasion,
dripping with chocolate propaganda
laced in vanilla honey lilac maple syrup paradise –
skin soothed by open wounds,
bleeding out with doomsday plumes –
up in smoke, out of luck, triple six
branded on the wrists, followed fast
by sunsplashed sevens marked on the forehead
as an escape route to salvation –
kicking up dirt in the face of the Beast…
dust, grime and ash prepared for the feast
devoured in full, electric gut swirl
all a-twirl in the splendor of a glowing ember
raging red hot with coal-kissed carbon cries
polluting the hazy skies…violently pried
a beam from the eye…judgment decried –
holy happy hour hallelujah on a soapbox pedestal
raining down the ivory tower shards of glass…
house of cards sure to smash
in the futuristic fallout, fade away, quick to blaze
righteous on the singsong cross
after three days of a sweltering solstice…
begging for the solar savior to return in full glory
of glamour in the midnight hour retribution ceremony.

2 poems || Tempest Brew


a force goes to force
goes to street goes to rain
goes to new land goes
to the dogs goes to our
backyard goes to hell
in hand basket goes to a
closet seat goes to the
floor goes to rot goes to
our head goes to the clouds
goes to God goes to us
beginning goes to end
goes to another beginning.


into water
cold decision

Thursday, September 10, 2015

text || Matt Margo

Excerpt from an untitled text, June 2010—Nov. 2011
First published in Two Titles (white sky books, 2011)

observations expand on the crucial regulations of out-and-out impolite decisions, establish the strength of expected triggers. pardon the weak spot, no one else there had been intelligent on the way to the radio show. thus far, having flung the status of favors’ phase, breathing space, concerning crude religious studies, the carcass of our isolation should be involved in spying on abbreviated possible events, hitherto the supreme canister not able to sleep or catch the story of otherwise engaged findings. it appears that the skeleton abandoned the anonymity of the wicked person and his item for consumption, the identification mark. on the wrong side of the law, with a shotgun shell automatically. it became visible between a rock and a hard place and a few people with down conceptions. the anticlimaxes shoulder the burden and accede, yelping ( as the booklover should think watchfully to no avail, that is to say ), to the monopoly of the objects of ridicule through a name, a space invader to the casual observer of sophisticated workmanship and instance. owing to outbreaks of no great concern, otherwise, in my book, canny, as a group, furiously androgynous, as, like peas in a pod, the world turns over with decency. a short time ago in the nick of time, it follows that, so far infinite in the soup empowering, the social order, irreparably off-color, exclusive of the night, yet to be paid of its own accord, may possibly, as butt of all the jokes that you can imagine, accept this contrary belief. seeing as education of no use is authentic and methodical, it cannot be budged of good standing, and the archenemy of necessity is the kerosene lamp at that moment, requirement. through an assortment of stipulation, it whacks at the front of pragmatism. as a consequence of the link sandwiched between the immeasurable retreat in the region of experimental surroundings and outbreaks, our joysticks confirm the force of the same kind, and in so doing settle on the jeopardy of the paradoxes. as a result of our neckline of circumstances, the locker remains U-shaped, in the company of times gone by disk-shaped Judgment Days, and dwells of no value in its place as to the continuation of our dreams in most cases. the unworried should barely be unhappy as a joke meant for our sense of right and wrong, using reasoned unison. we can construe that much with the purpose of, above all, rational banks and their possessions in the line of fire.


poem || Jeff Harrison

Quatrain Is Five 

ten the garden,
water is dozen,
plume is eleven,
million the banker's convenience

nine is sweet,
qwerty is delicate as twenty,
mountains or woods and
sink in between (this is two)

darkness is eighty-three,
window is ninety-one,
dollar is one hundred,
coast is two hundred

course is four,
fencepost is seventy-three,
migrating with sleep is eighty-eight,
evening is breeze as ebb (seventy-six)

turncoat is fifty-seven,
silver is zero point nine,
quatrain is job one,
scurry is twenty-two

2 poems || Daniel Y. Harris

Invokevirtual #85; //Method java/io/PrintStream.println:(I)V

Nvokes an interface method on object objectref, where the interface
method is identified by method reference index in constant pool
(indeddyxbyte1 << 8 + indeddyxbyte2) and count is the number
of arguments to pop from the stack frame including the object
on which the method is being called Eddy Daemon or greater
than or equal to 1 jump to subroutine at branchoffset (signed int
constructed from unsigned bytes branchbyte1 << 24 + branchbyte2
<< 16 + brdaemonnchbyte3 << 8 + branchbyte4) and the return
address on the stack pushes a constant #index from a constant
pool (String, int, float or class type) onto the stack (wide index
is constructed as indexbyte1 << 8 + indeddyxbyte2) ext opcode,
where opcode is either iload, fload, aload, lload, dload, istore,
fstore, astore, lstore, dstore, or ret, but assume the index is 16 bit;
or execute iinc, where the index is 16 bits of a debuggers class. 

Range 95-99%+

Esprit de corps is a surrogate key, the access port of a disfigured
troll—extortionate profit desires a seigneurial to gain the talents
of an acq-hire or say even an acqui-hire to prosper due start-ups.
Will the lixitae of Orange County be speedier than these extreme
herds? Heard of what? Herd of stocks. Nobody keeps up with us
to interpret. Eddy has gadget fatigue. Eddy is vendor haste: grab.
The canon has no genomes. No coding sequence names us now.
New, untamed confessions wax era. It’s urgent, yes. It’s relevant.
Nothing is more urgent, but will pass. Is Eddy Ezra? Ezra, beats
noise to make terror. How many mediocres publish? As if history
mattered? Eddy knows. We know Eddy’s map maps a new writ
in religion’s county seat for civil parish. No one to end it don’t.
Nature and you don’t matter, even as you extinguish these limits.
Read yourself in Eddy’s “not about me.” Born to retell this alias.

Sunday, September 6, 2015

poem || John Pursch


Brahmanic Mutt, telepathic dachshund, frantically runs from Easton She’s Bored to Nubile Coda’s Canned Avian flesheries, little paws flashing into light speed wink-out cloud of smoky faces, feline longings, and long days slumbering in sunshine status.

Past-life lucidity hints to Mutt of humbled human undercoat in karmic disrepair. “If only I could find a stash of slow-culled time-reversal drugs, revert to human status,” Brahmanic muses, carelessly sniffing piles in Contrail Park at end of leash-line daily walk.

“What’s this?” He’s vibing in on Shetland pony fantasies of one Chastity Chatterbox, high-heeled toy poodle owner, skipping shoddy memory to harebrained dreams to solid flicker of factoids in her addled mind, strangely relevant to Mutt’s own causal castanet.

Chatterboxie’s stream derails on: “…Sandoz Time Slippers from Dr. Croakitall… shouldn’t’ve taken so many… why my feet are disappearing… can’t even feel my boobs…”

Brahmanic vibes back, “No, honey, yer fine, nuttin’ ta be afraid of, yer perfectly solid and yer boobs look wonderful,” throwing in a friendly little bark, sidling up to her poodle, hoping for a little three-way, absurd as it may seem.

Tug along the leash, it’s vapid Chuck the dog walker: “Come on, dachsie, ain’t got all day.”

Brahmanic vibes him, “Dude, chill, you could get laid here if you just follow my lead.”

Amazingly, Chuckster catches on and soon Brahmanic’s poking around Chatty’s penthouse flat, amid grunts and shrieks of typical human foreplay.

“Come on, come on, where’s she keep the stash?” Brahmanic’s trying kitchen, bathroom, bedroom hideouts. “They’ll finish soon; chance of me being dragged along for any repeat encounter are marginal… ”

Relaxing, Brahmanic brainstorms, vibes to Chuckster: “Sex is so much better on time drugs and I know she’s got ‘em, all kinds!” What with ardent repetition, Chuck and Chatty are soon gobbling pills from assorted tumbling bottles on the nightstand.

“Reversal; reversal and time-slip,” Brahmanic intones. “By far the best. Head for some Sixties love pad orgy, you’ll get three-for-alls and anything goes,” sending the couple straight down the time chute in sizzling haze of soldered lingerie.

Brahmanic sniffs around the empty flat. “Let’s see, they’ll be gone for an hour or so. Can’t read any of these labels; just have to swallow every pill in sight and hope for the best. Here, eat these, Fifi,” hoovering up the rug.

Dogs dissolve in city skyline’s paisley dishpan underglow of cobbled moonbeam glaze and taut replay of timeline varnish overload to quantum buckboard plastic yore-slide quintic population trance.

Deep in dosimeter daydream, Brahmanic sloughs off feline lust, revealing serene juxtaposition of tugboat corridor locale and heavenly ape-kit costume parity, believing glossy souls and evenly spun electrons from simmering booze channel.

“Nod an udder dribbling camp edition, conned equestrian pallor drinking park or pumice Pollyanna praxis,” he moans in steady swirling breeze of time-slip chemical kin, tampering with hitched incisor metal man.

Fifi, aloe hung furtive rider, grappling to mainly stain her calm posture, wad this bean her foisted hedge peering hence weed time drugs and awl. “Wise ham eye nod able to bark oar growl? Mine lugs sheen mire alike my onus. Weight! Hammy now hand owner? Half sew, arse ewe mine dog?”

Brahmanic notice furtive foist dime data Fifi’s mate the chump along weed him to reverse human lime tine. Drinking vapidly, he counts her: “Fee-fee, ewer chest loaf lea, heifer sew spline. Yer jest a parson noun, an ink-ready-bleep utilized free male, at bat!”

Fifi smiles weakly. “Kiss aye joust groveled up two mangy hove dose peals off Ms. Chatterbox’ fallow oar. Fleein’ party queasy.”

“Nod two weary, Fiefdom, heat’ll ware huff swoon,” Brahmanic replies soothingly, unbuttoning her blouse. “Slammy loosin’ yer tarp; chest relax hand breed nominally.”

“Swear arse whee?” Fifi asks.

“Morey like Juan arse oui. Hide shave hit’s the laid Sexties, planet Dearth; sum ware in Nord Americon oar Myopia. Oui a pier two’ve slanted ride indie mettle oven orgy,” Brahmanic deduces. “Ether tad whore sheeple chest frock lie crab hits Constantinople.”

“Aye’d aft ooh argree switcheroo, Brahmanic. Wad’s data smog wa’s fleein’ varoom?”

“Hand hour lungs,” Brahmanic observes. “Hall moat spurting lea merry wanna; hit war ewes devil he piety heap eyes inch ta Sexties.”

“Oh,” Fifi contemporizes. “Oui batter pee carful nod tufa lamprey twosome udder snore powder full dreg hove da thymes. Far egg simple, sum sigh kid aleck.”

“Towel ate, high tinker,” murmurs Brahmanic, notice ink tea she link pea ginning two bauble hand cadge fire. “Dings her bay combing quiet lick weed…”