Stage and Scream Quit asking questions about the wine on the counter and take the potato from your pocket, peel, dice, splice. We are stuck between stage and scream. Like in a film with real milk we can’t get the sneezes out of our sleeves. Get outside with your fuel to burn something must break…

zra Pound | Late TateFriday, 3 October18.30 – 22.00Tate Britain, Millbank, SW1P 4RGadmission free http://www.ucl.ac.uk/pound/ To commemorate the 100th anniversary of Ezra Pound’s arrival in London in 1908, nine performers will present poetry, music, and creative performances inspired by Pound’s poetic work. All performances will be held in Gallery 17 of the Tate Britain this…

SNOBBISH SNOBBISHLY SNOBBISHNESS SNOBBISM SNOBBY SNOBLING SNOBOCRACY SNO-CAT SNODSNOFF SNOG … SNOW LILY SNOW LINE SNOW MIST SNOW MOUSE, SNOW MUSHROOM SNOW ORCHID there is real. it is all real. very real. a little wriggle upon a yellow guitar made out of beeswaxI intend to eat swordfish and mushroom kebabs for tea tonightpappymashy on a…

Poorly paid Laborers Break Up Ships for Salvage The deft seduction of art keeps us transfixed. There’s always some visual pleasure to engage us. A painter’s eye for color and a sculptors eye for form. An uncool composition of light. The lyrical morpheme. The skyline of a water-edged city. The play of shadow and light…

check it: Contemporary Poetics Research Centre

i have been finding time to write from 4-5PM before teaching my evening classes. When I am supposed to be preparing for classes. Between the first and second half of my day.

a monster haunts uswith cut-resistant ballistic pads carefully cut and sewn with curves in mind bright yellow peppers in the morning courtyard old tyre caked against shed and cooling trouserson the white picket fence someone has stolen the pasta machine hot potato wet tomatoif you hear what your body says then put yr mindin the…

Alien fruits For magnesium light I lifted my pillow with gold teeth into the mythical moist night, co-mingled with minions and unpeeled onions, all my vigor squeezed into a single sneeze. All my friends from the Great Empire have abandoned their stations, have puttheir slinkies in the mud. You are a supposed person rushing late…

Recycled from Today identity is a serious personal issueself-imposed deadlinesit shuts on its own darlingi’m sure you’re gonna be somebody, soondo you understand what else there is?stop anti-aging, stop messing with yr widgets, o2 unlimitedi’m now in touch with Jim GoarI don’t know what this nation needsbungee jumping with five quidtake shower early when not…

Andrew Duncan’s Origins of the undergroundTom Atkins FolkloreTom Atkins HoraceSoft Targets (featuring Brian Howe purchased from Bookarts Bookshop in East London)Maggie O’Sullivan’s Body of Work Mairead Byrne’s Talk Poetry spent the very last of my american money in my last american bank account. also used that money for an imac. all gone now. that was…

I went to a fantastic reading yesterday afternoon. Sundays at the Oto (Japanese for sound) with TIM ATKINS, ISNAJ DUI + SOPHIE ROBINSON. Tim Atkins was absolutely nothing short of spectacular. One of the best readings I have been to in a long long long time. He takes Horace and Petrarch into 21st century London.…

Elit in Europe

Love the clean look and always excellent painting as cover of Jim Goar’s Past Simple. Check out my poem and short reading here: Auspicious Wanderings Thank you Jim Goar

In the techno-creep, broken glass, you knowwhat reason tormentsfallen face in the surfperpendicular foot on my memorywhat you sellingoh comeo, oh obsidiantoken sanity, it behooves you to impound yr authenticity, cropand leverage and spadethe hollowed ground. bellies agog light showsthrough weighted shoeswe’ve got lift in the stirred porridgewhat tinkles while London growlsus northerners draw our…

it’s happening Robert Sheppard

performing childhood is something else where light is a lonesome hymntouching commits to memory rhetorical proof in perpetual motion and love’s unbroken compositionapproaching the furthest moon salvation is among the borders of civilization and alas tonight the gaps are graced migration to memory inside the praxis of livinga mongrel shakedown on the milk-stained carpet

first week in new flat in west London. paid the deposit. Just hooked up wireless internet a few hours ago. I start a new job on Monday teaching part time at Ealing and West London college (ESL). Hope it can turn from temp to more permenant work next year. The last four months in London…

Some interesting use of short poetry and photography from Dylan Harris. Check out ALL HANDS

reloaded os x on my mac. simplified. writing again. doing remixes of readings i’ve attended so far in London. I don’t remember their words and my words. Words. whose words????? alas, here we go . . . I know, now, more than ever I need community to write well. it’s coming back. the play .…

Scott Thurston (Openned Reading, London, The Foundery, July 17th 2008) “take cover from my artificial intelligence” “we cannot justify our deserts” “shapeless static boundaries” “our current past-life on a disused railway track” “separate yr voices” “beckon me form to time to air not even missiles” “can they dent, in turn, a mold, a straight jacket”…

Nate Tarn (Swedenborg House London June 17th 2008) “how to keep in favour with the sky in another pieced together country”‘the eardrum inbeasted to savour even more so, now”“my father never shot his wad”“thin trial of glucose, thin trail . . . .”“all is clear like a green ghost misting against my summerhood”” we know…

Lee Harwood London 17th June 2008 “theory of colours and walking skeletons” “the usual desire for the glue monster”“in small rooms we sat around the fire”“I know what you are thinking in this closed room”“the exit contains the tomb”“closeness obscures as old photos clearly understood face to face”“yes I know you son”“somehow this works, being…

My brother is awake. At first he couldn’t speak and he put his hand on his heart and pointed to my mum. now he is using words . . . it looks like everything is going to be ok so far :-) he is a fighter alright!!!!

my little brother Spencer was in a very bad car crash three days ago in utah. he is in a coma. brain swollen. collapsed lung. machines. I can’t really focus on anything else at the moment . . .

It is really happening. or seems to. My first feed for over three years occurred last night in east london at the Foundery: Sascha Akhtar Sean Bonney Frances Kruk Scott Thurston John Wilkinson All great . . .. especially the performance of Sean Bonney and Frances Kruk. If you have not heard of the poetry…

A lot of tube time. Over three hours. I’ve seen some of the same people but we are not supposed to look at each other. When I blow my nose black shit, a bit like newspaper ink, comes out in chunks on the tissue. West London is much better than living near Manor House. West…

I must attend this event next year!!! report by Alison

Prodigal Drift Lapid maze-fault: something calls my name, tomotoe on the table I wish you could pick me up operaticallyhot/cold with critical speculation. I’ve met gravityat every turn and in America very basic lightning to take a different direction in comparisonto the primness and residual limits of Victorian England. This is the ramshackle of a…

COFFEE HALL sex drop and damp dreamsin coffee hallbefore a Mormonbaptism there was silent chatter and I was borderline skit zowhile star wars figures melted on the light bulb This is the scene, the seen, the redeveloped conditional, the hemoglobin of a healthy heartbeat. Once upon, once the time was, the time is a disappearingpoint…

My friend and fellow poet Virgil Renfroe gave me this link to a very interesting poetry and sound art website. The soundstuff is really really interesting. Check it out: Dean Parkin

got a big room for the month of August. Half a foot on the ground. So my third move in London coming up in two weeks. Then in September I must move again because room is only for one month. So four flats in four months in London. Par for the course. I am circles…

so maybe my feet will come back. maybe i can work in marketing for this language school and then create a mental space for my writing. I think other writers work business jobs and still are prolific with their poetry and art. started copying some of the language from a marketing report for the middle…

went to brick lane in london yesterday. it is an amazing place. my favourite place in london so far. lots of interesting galleries. it is where the new shit happens. fashion is hip and mind blowing. i also taught a class as a replacement teacher at the school and i felt like myself for the…

It is pouring rain in London right now. Typical English weather i guess. I live in a Turkish neighborhood. I got my haircut the other day at a Turkish barber shop. No one spoke much English. It was interesting. He got a burning hot metal stick and put it close to my face. Supposed to…

Portadown cum round againsex drop and damp dreamsin council housingsilent chatter borderline skit zofigures melting on lightbulbs I’m painting a portrait with the pelvis as a disappearing point and masturbation is nothing left to lose. I was pretend smoking with twig and some girl named Sweetie and then my gills turned to lungs underneath the…

So I moved into a new flat in North London (near Manor House) last monday. Lost money by moving out of the other flat before the end of the month but the new flat is much better. Cool flatmates and nice and modern place and even internet in the front room. One flatmate is from…

so leave in a few hours for a plane back to London. Belfast was great. Fantastic indie rock clubs. The area around Queens University is really nice. Cool vintage clothing shop and lots of cafes and rock clubs and beautiful botanic gardens and lots of cool hip Belfast hipsters roaming the streets. Surprising and refreshing…

scene speak: NewportPagnell: green green greenand old village pubs, countryfood: Yorkshire pudding and roastand carrots: loved and lostand loved it all maybe not, although, I don’t think so, my lapsedtravel zone, still winking star-studdedchallenge, hear all, heralded, just grab the tab &pull off the damage, gravel &chips, travel fresh, pushed-in chin maybe not, although, travel…

The Goose at The Goose across from Wood Green Station£1.50 a pint, Slovakians and Bulgerians and Polish and North Londoners and a man in the corner climbing a ladderof tongues in the overheard compartmentsof the mind what has liftedwhat has shiftedin the supreme footfall, in the swaggerof alternate tendencies: sparksof the masculine dream dragon: can’tget…

what does it mean to sell out? it entails something about authenticity which is a big bag of bones. but being authentic is always a question in motion. like individuality it is under suspicion. and at the very least it is fucking hard work. to be authentic requires constant questing and questioning. i have a…

in new room. old place. a few cool bulgarians. now my mum is in belfast. flying back to belfast tomorrow. it is crazy globe trotting. come back to london in 11 days. will eventually get settled. met cool german named sven and went to about five london irish pubs full of irish londoners here since…

I traveled from Milton Keynes to London all last week. After one busy extremely stressful week I have a job and a place to live. I will take the train tomorrow to London. I will live with six other guys in a cheap flat share in North London (Wood Green). The new job is in…

birds everywhere. at least twelve new songs. clock ticking. slugs nestled into mud puddles. Lush, in short. i have applied to a mad amount of jobs, it is the system, my tick, oversaturate then choose via exhaustion or luck. just want a bit of peace, a piece, small piece, of the pie without getting sucked…

hey we go . . . one hour . . . two trains . . . plane . . .london well, Milton Keynes for a while . . . interview for a marketing gig in North London Tuesday. If I got the job, I would be the marketing fella for an English language school in…

dipping feet into dead holes: polski pani polski pani zoo wee su zesh gee oh wee ma me pling plang ol la ba na na the eye socket does not contain a rainbowbut the informer keeps on informing coins on the table, flight delayed, & still trying to simplify my lifeI’ve the restless disease with…

cruel spring is on the way and my savage old identity is in the making, three years of foreign lands, my action is mental,don’t jump outta airplanes ‘cept in my mindget natural, get funny, get off, get your tailin a hairspin, tis insanity hence sane ached-up falliable nauticalhot-splotch rollerwheels &squeels& a dummytit to shutthe trap…

Throngs of people in the centre of katowice scuttling down the street. Legs don’t work right around here. My energies are dispersed and can’t keep ahead of the curve. Nothing is not enough. A saturation and then repulsion of selves. Reading and writing and being awake are a survival strategy. A pull toward the pit.…

three more hard days of teaching in Poland. Then a few days in krakow and then London. Trying to stay calm. No idea what kind of job I can get in London. But I must awaken again. need to get some roots. hunker down and create. meet my basic needs and write write write .…

it was a very hard, sad and beautiful funeral. it was nice to see my mum for a little while. It had been almost six years since I had seen my mum. i fly back to Poland tomorrow. then london at the end of next week. I am hoping to find a community of artists…

My Granny helped raise me when I was little. I will miss her terribly. I never got to say goodbye. from my uncle Stan: Georgina Phyllis Wilson (Gibson)Monday 21st April 2008My Mummy died this morning at approximately 6.25am, after a very long disturbed night. Thankfully after an additional injection she passed away peacefully in her…

In the daily minutiae picking up, picking out, packing up, freedom is a force multiplier still increasing in importance, where you going with your lazy eye in central Europe rollerblading on love’s highway got no action to declare wszystkiego naylepszego dream on, dream churned out in a post-bomb haze, what about ya, little legs twisted…

From that moment on the body refused its movement and there was the feeling of everything left to do. What am I going to show you now? A protoclysmic eye? A terrestial invasion? Everything wise is broken. Non-instrumental potential. you must sitdown in this tunneland trya new breath you must vacate the storm’s lecture yr…

Looks like it is back to America in May or June. It has been over five years since I have seen my family (mum dad and three brothers and three sisters). Arranging tickets. Salt lake City, Utah and living with my folks for the summer in a place called Spanish Fork (Utah). Earn some money…

The Secret of Why We First Took to Our Feet the brain weaves a strange kind of music and our bodiesseem unable to forgetthe memory of what it feels liketo be properly seenall I have said is truly a conversation with light as a shadow puppet among the livingwe can find breathing but we can’t…

The Secret of Why We First Took to Our Feet the brain weaves a strange kind of music and our bodiesseem unable to forgetthe memory of what it feels liketo be properly wholeall I have said is truly a conversation with light as a shadow puppet among the livingwe can find breathing but we can’t…

it is pleasant to breathe after strangulation it is pleasant to clink a wishbottle against yr yellowing teeth it is pleasant to tie boredom to the bed and whip the shit out of it it is pleasant to walk on cold ground with defective spaces in yr mind it is pleasant to dance in the…

Kultura It’s a milkshake dream. Chocolate chunks in a pool of milk. What will prevail upon the tongue when human time is disappearing from the universe? And so the large self is proud of no-nation. They are all little shits. I’m a chain. A chain around grotesque nipples. I myself did love, did leave a…

Shame Ladies and gentlemen, better wake up and hijack these images. Don’t wake up too old for experience. You’re beginning to believe in the past detached from the body. I have found ergo I am dead. A damned birth needs continual shock. An exaggeration of subtle truths. Here beneath the house of language a bat…

Saturday morning Pre-CAE class. Great students.

Shame I am full of shame. All my work is a forgery. I don’t thinkI’ve said one important thingin my entire life I’m back in a body crumbling within the prism of white supremacy. Purity is for dummies. *******************************************************************************************Ladies and gentlemen, better wake up and hijak these images. Don’t wake up too old for experience.…

We’ve talked a little about the horsepenis and change and luck and the way things come down. There are cartoon voices and a jangle of keys at the station. The penis is abandoned or postponed for old age. Sop up the sperm of these swift cheap words. Through any window piss is raining from the…

Most Fridays only contain three or four hours of teaching and then the afternoon and evening are free. God it is nice. Here is a revision of an earlier poem. Still in the works, but moving in a better direction. Think the manuscript is changing. Prodigal Drift is no longer the right title. Primal Verge…

it is announcements like these that make me wish I were still in North Carolina with the Lucifer Poetics folk: Announcing MIXTAPE (the Reading Series) #4 Mark you calendars now! Mixtape is a salon-style reading series, where invited poets will read “mixes” of work by writers other than themselves. Host: Chris VitielloWhere: 1106 Ninth St.,…

There’s a he and a she separated by slender wood. The graver engraves and the wood isbitten into. Who carves and who is carved really doesn’t matter. Who bites and who is bitten depends on the occasion. Please observe the sound of a broken flip-flop from your bedroom window. It is summer and a city…

There’s a he and a she separated by slender wood. The graver engraves and the wood isbitten into. Who carves and who is carved really doesn’t matter. Who bites and who is bitten depends on the occasion. Please observe the sound of a broken flip-flop from your bedroom window. It is summer and a city…

There’s a he and a she separated by slender wood: engraved and bitten into.One broken flip-flop clops along the wooden floor.Each footfall sinksinto sand. A final whistle cutsthe air as eachmemory chugsaway on forgottentracks. Romanticrubbish is stuffedinto recycle bins.To have been is to becarried away and pushedopen by the lidless.I must mind my memories, minethe…

Scene Speak Katowice centre has the highest percentage of limping people per capita. The table in this café keeps tipping. Hands won’t get warm. Ice cobra of the mind. Caution for the darkness that rumbles from the post-communist trams. Glops of kebab stick to the pavement. Fingers null. Old homes mold holes. Word my brain.…

Maybe you had wooden fingers in a past life

Bloodlump bit my tongue on some thinned-outPolish bread and it’s a bloodlumpagainst the invertebratemovements of the tongue when with contempt the exposure of dust in the daylight: a fertile stasis abovethe hills of a shelled-out city: the liver deposits unconscious memory: from bloodsimple that wish in the water: to think it’s true asleep among the…

have to tilt a little to the right but new glasses are back with a new lens . . .

Neighbors 1 no eternity without mythical speechtotem mud paints the brainclay codingsseven to nine stiches suture the minda paradise of blemishesmusic drawn like conceptsbetween meaningsvisions in the mudpit Neighbors 2 crazy oblivion terminates in the nude bathing in pine needlesskin stripped from the bumthe most inquisitive childrenon the sundial of the dead all good people…

In fact, there are only two things in the universe which are simple, and one of them is the universe taken as a whole; and the other is its language, because its language is its capacity for love. And the capacity of the universe for love is that for which man was born. Oh yes,…

The third half SHIT HAPPENS, that’s howthe writing on men’s toilet wall ends.This is the worst –to walk with such hungerof at least minimal glow – to findonly this, the writing at night toilet,that’s how it looks, pussycatand that’s how it ends Dogs make love on the pavement. I pretended a tenorfor fifteen minutes, till…

Memory Clouds . . . the most benign symptom (Roland Barthes) memory clouds, as the say, feedon mountains, endlesshover that dwells, or dwelledelsewhere, and yeahbehold a punctured tyre, nightfeet acrossswollen floorboards, eachperception divides itself intoearth and air. In the theatreof crashing streets there is: a ladder of bird feathers children mock smoking with brokentwigs a…

Went to a club last Thursday with my friend Andrew. My friend is 30 and they wanted his id. He was visiting Poland and did not bring his id to the club. I have never shown id in a Polish club before. There was a bit of an argument with the bouncer but nothing serious.…

Detergents force out dirt and foam makes something out of nothing. Foam is the spirituality of luxury. The emperor’s new clothes are a reflexive lyric of the bodysoul. The washing machine is a house of memory and clothes are washed in epistemological soap bubbles. Lost socks for a new medium. Music hall of tumbling cycles.…

I have been thinking about old patterns. In marriage therapy towards the end of my marriage I realised I needed to be more assertive. To tell my wife no sometimes. To take on more “masculine” traits in terms of being decisive and a bit less open etc. I believe in freedom. I hate jealousy. it…

I did not teach today. It helped. I cleared a space for thinking and writing and reading. I am taking an 8 hour train to Gdansk tomorrow morning. I will need to find bananas before departing. I read some of Clayton Eshleman’s Companion Spider on Google reader. It inspired me to order some books. I…

Auspicious Wanderings Auspicious Wanderings a lemmon seed floats in my milkauspicious wedding rings fall into drainpipesshadows stick to the branchescigarette butts smell like rotten peanuts Irish flem leaves my throat recovery is only partially responsible I might dance spermatic tissues block the heating ventsas an answer mercy swallows the cat’s tonguethe story of our masks…

performing childhood is something elsewhere light is a lonesome hymntouching commits to memoryrhetorical proof in perpetual motionlove’s unbroken compositionapproaching the furthest moonsalvation among the borders of civilisationso tonight the gaps are graced migration to memory inside the praxis of livinga mongrel shake-downon the milk-stained carpet

new issue of onedit is out today. It features complete works by Miles ChampionKhaled HakimHarry GilonisStephen RodeferEleni Sikelianos It is at: onedit

Katowice is the city of mud. The Polish just throw a shit load of dirt on snow maybe to save money on salt and when it melts it mixes with the coal grime and it is just one big mess. Slipping and sliding in mud all over the city . . .

http://www.youtube.com/p/D1597C2CAB3870FD

still recovering. zofia got me a new shirt. dig it.

got back to poland last night. fantastic new year’s eve party at Spencer Pub in Katowice. Lots and lots of wine and food and dancing. Now I have a serious hangover. it is 1:30PM. I am going back to bed :-)