3rd Iteration (Next Night: 14/05/08)

Resolution 14/05/08: check the Nights page for readers and travel information.

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Hannah Silva - Talking to Artaud

Talking to Artaud

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NetPoetics

'These are digital poetry forms, bridges between the print and wired worlds. While not intending to create a blueprint, these poems and the included code, descriptions, videos and examples, are designed to help poets explore translating their poetics into interactive, non-linear, moving, playable digital creatures.' Link

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2nd Iteration

Interference.

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Pilgrim by Gracie Leavitt

I. Street Let us ---- neurotic cages rattling down the street ---- viva la blah blah blah, that virtuous blues ---- take in some virulent nonage ---- and the glutted club of stammerers ---- we muster for a saga of bleary steppes ---- we huddle in the brass drained from cages. II. Prison This obese joinery scared a man ---- was killed by a falling scrim ---- black jacket bolted shut ---- over the hem of sky you come white ---- white sheet knotted to white sheet and so on ---- the prisoners climb out from their windows ---- called back to ---- there the beach under the street we rattle down ---- raise glasses, goblets, cups of fire higher. III. Beach Roiling provenance of agitated lime ---- out of what was built ---- backs of legs tighten into walls around water ---- my eyes are leached ---- the beach is lit. IV. Postscript As only will would contort and caress ---- this redemption slow moving ---- a saffron cylinder of clean water to drown mice in ---- to slobber over the torso of anima ---- adore it, breaking.

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Imponderables by Gracie Leavitt

All you imponderables ---- sometimes in a dark theater you close your eyes ---- try to fall into that clotted tumulus ---- or lap of world ---- or ideogram of an unborn nightjar ---- enlisted to be rude ---- all you against the creosoted lee side masses ---- ravening with palatial mannerisms ---- end up kicking burnable clots across their lawns ---- sometimes pinning scratched up ingots to folks’ jackets ---- dug up from the lawn where you kicked night jars back into place ---- what holds up this insuperable lap ---- all you footsore ---- you rinse you thrum in the deep port of sloping wires ---- I fall into your lap.

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Conceptual Poetry Conceptual Interview

Marjorie Perloff: 'Kenneth Goldsmith and Christian Bök largely equate the conceptual with the “uncreative,” the unoriginal: they talk of the use of “stolen texts, random words, forced rules, boring ideas,” and begin with the premise that in the information age, “language as material” can be seen as “junk, detritus,” to be reframed and recharged. Charles Bernstein, on the other hand, defines conceptual poetry as “poetry pregnant with thought”—a definition Craig Dworkin, whose “Anthology of Conceptual Writing” on ubuweb.com first gave me the idea for this project, would seem to endorse since he talks there of an “anti-expressivist” poetry”—a “poetry of intellect.” And Susan Howe declares with nice irony, “I don’t know what conceptual poetry is. Maybe I will find the answer in Tucson."' Link

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1st Iteration

Cell structures.

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Joke Book (extract) by Tom White

Let’s probe themes, demands tradition. Doesn’t poetry pass its imports into less languid commentaries? They stiffen on vision: Delia’s mum’s long parlour (bra is ample); dad classifies home as sick hell, all weekend in anger swears that ‘even if I frig her wet, flex her, say “my dear”, carelessly comb my hair, she remarks that “he sends all men the summer dance, he never wants to stay home for sex. Usually he feels coarse boys back on the station. He calls to them, ‘get your kit off, fall on it!’ Knobs on show, and such positions way past just a sigh! Pa’s a column in some sexy page.”’ Get a car. I’m going to show just whose son regrets the day these walls caused us to stray far from home. Yes, you all hiss and yell at tit all your gay rhetoric and you hope the next day she will get all the blame. A kid comes in to hear (‘move over my dear’) rumours abound. ‘Who’s carrying on?’ ‘But I swear..!’ ‘Consider killing your one connection: enter, lead her to a settee, offer smiles (“after you”); be a disease, lay fate so soon upon the bastard. Erase her, mask the pencil. Solace to you, day’s sin satisfied. An éclair? After decent kill, men stay hopelessly sexual danger prowling there. A cheque will donate income – see the amount? Do your best and watch for the money. 1890 begins it, alright? I become impatient and see hell’s empire proffer demons a symbol, it’s clear, to endless space with your corpse. Just be sure she fell. Bullets kill – start increasing harm.’ The cock is large: he knows it. He pastiches you others pouring tears and pours tea. The men may have passion but later they waste – see Melnick on top, defiant of male violence. See the key appraise the place, her skirt so near to her anus. Too hard. Dance the salsa and I tell you don’t stop at all, and on him sew the cigar’s song. Don’t laugh about a marvellous tableau of being done. Fast feet upon carpet meant only he murmured ‘key’, a house leading you teasing slaughter. Pterodactyl knee compound as gas set an outer force: tradition. Come sell one. He bit her lemon (big). If I can rig a wet dance… A long novel set on a supper table.

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scantily clad press

- windmilling by andrew lundwall - whored tourist by ryan daley - Or Else What Asked The Flame. by Mathias Svalina & Paula Cisewski - The Milk for Free by Brooklyn Copeland - Curtis Harnack Wrapped Me in a Shawl by Tomaz Salamun Link

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