signals on the karma scale what will be is set I call the peripheral voice we moan voodoo blues drawing out identity man's face is watching me for the question of the void the fountain overflows suck it back in karma the revealing must wait
Poetry resembles painting. Some works will captivate you when you stand very close to them and others if you are at a greater distance. This one prefers a darker vantage point, that one wants to be seen in the light since it feels no terror before the penetrating judgment of the critic. This pleases only once, that will give pleasure even if we go back to it ten times over. --Horace
Send your name and mailing address to madverse [at] gmail [dot] com for a FREE copy of 888, my latest chapbook of bizarre poems and experimental texts.
This offer is good for anyone, anywhere on the planet of Earth!
Sheila E. Murphy - COLLECTED CHAPBOOKS (1981-2002)
Blue Lion Books announces a new hardback book by Sheila E. Murphy, COLLECTED CHAPBOOKS (1981 - 2002). A collection of all Murphy's chapbooks issued during that period, many out of print and now available in a beautiful hardcover edition.
"For three decades, Sheila E. Murphy has been been one of the master architects of American syntax. Those who have read her poems only in magazines or chapbooks have no idea of their scope, the scale and the depth of her work. For those readers, this collection will be a revelation. This is a great book!" --- Ron Silliman
"Sheila E. Murphy is indeed a virtuoso bird, one who takes flight through language at the slightest provocation, carrying her readers with her on long poetic journey. These poems are about linguistic experience, about music on the page and in the head, about ideas approached from surprising angles and made anew, about renewal and revival. Over the last twenty five years I have continually migrated towards Sheila's approachable, lyrical and engaging experiments, basking in the sun-drenched visions she has gathered and made from the worlds and words about her. Collected Chapbooks is an overdue delight, a tribute and a publishing event." --- Rupert Loydell
http://www.lulu.com/content/2251616
is the web-address for ordering this book. The book has much to merit purchasing a copy to enrich one's experience of contemporary poetry. In reading this book, you will be amazed at the variety of her poetic discourse, no doubt, in paraphrase, falling in love along with the the spell of her bright syntax.
a beautiful maintenance dabs at a bit here a bit there wakes earnings' shutters to rise from flash to shred the maverick clouds as soft as polaroid to light a match in one long wheeze shacked up in the hut of cigarettes remember when where first we did it or chant a while something snappy and unhinged and strapless as desire
I don't know how it is incurious against already disappearing wind chimes I don't hear enactment of this yearling heart I don't induce a person's breath when it is finished at the moment life begins it ends
I don't evaporate by heart for being I revisit how I know that you are here a while until I lose alertness for your smoothness that requires as it requites I give up love for you
I don't enlist your light I make up for where it has been lifted I mind the quiet where we met soon enough not far from where I am again my soldier my endeared and polished reason for the constant shine of heart's own flight of feathering across
I don't consider selves a plus an acreage I don't delimit scars that show through who I am I don't align with prior to my pose the question of your answers drawn into a generation of loose moments that evade the crop of notice
White Fucking Whale Fucking Obsession Fucking Tale
Fucking sun raised to devil's taunting shit I cried Loose lips harbor fucking A they fucking harbor killer whaler in screw you fucking pompadour
My goddamn fucking cocksucking tale I tell you cock suckers now:
Fuck death fucking stinking cunt of hero books at sea A suck ass who... Cunt hole prick of demo angel devil ass hole Shit headed whirligig mice tantrum on two wheel harpoon pontiff Mother voice three hole fuck at one hell pit below decks Spokes & bells sucking infant life surreal gonad wooden stump captain asshole Burnt fucking teeth tooth whirring gunwale Scorched skull abandoned bone king ass hole fucker reflector mirror Screw you fuckers like a prize coin hammered fucking up All I did fucking shit was fuck up all day all night Never took my own fucking advice Never once fucker thought about any fucking thing but shit I hated that peice of silver coin hammered fucking up On ice flesh of white wash fucking seething blow hole Anti warp fox sequence tail duck fucker demon shaman eye cunt sailorman Shouting: “My dog has fleas shit hole fucker in auto distance!” Every diamond a corpse cunt prick tit on a fenced corporation Binges fucking fucking symbolism lunatic fringe fucking basic Fucking freaking tradition gag order acting HO! Fucking white whale men there's shit I got my self fucked Bitching rope snagging me fucking down...Cap'n...I'm fucking telling you There ain't a fucking thing we can fucking be doing but Save our selves screwed men though we fucking are Sone things are fucking better off left un.... But Fuck it Fuck it to fucking hell
BETRAYAL SO REAL OBNOXIOUS WHYS I CRIED SO INTENSLY THIS TIME SADNESS EVOKES STRENGTH DREAMS BELEIVE ME EYES CLOSED THOUGHTS RACING INFINITY TRUST LOST SWEPT AWYAY YOU SAID STAY I LEFT!
lights to a pin in the tall tall room each floral stab of ecstacy rose bones suggests something naughty with bff builds a fire around a bubble it burns submission going down down hangs laundry something's happening here today confounded o infatuation like streets doing things flat beer miles spread thighs happeningly shopping the shit you'd like to do but never'd confessed before okay cool well make the secretaries feel better won't stop until it's that feeling inside penetration transmitter radio usa ways to choose skirt the red tape slopping dingy diners on fire yeah make the blood flow rootsy o do it a walk in the park high on kites
1. Write/read a poem that is torture to both the reader and the writer.
2. Waterboard a sonnet.
3. Climb on a poem and take it for a spin around the block.
4. Read the first word of a poem and then every other word thereafter. Then read the second word and every other word thereafter. How do the two readings differ?
5. See the poem as a mountain. Plan your ascent to the peak and then your descent. Don't forget your oxygen.
6. View the poem as a hole you're digging. How do you know when to stop? How far down do you go? How do you get out once you've stopped digging?
7. Write the poem backwards, and then make it make sense, or not.
8. Imagine the poem to be a city that lies beneath sea-level. How do you prevent its being flooded the next time a hurricane comes along?
9. Imagine the poem as a hurricane.
10. Put your poem (or someone else's) through basic training. Teach it to march. Train it to kill.
you (amiss) will vapor as my pores (damp light) of you (let go) the finely tuned redress will not come easily in present tense unleashed (from happiness) affixed to gentle weeds in unison the song an old familiar dialect left short of here (a mix) template and tongue in groove elapsing capstone course (correct) the vines come down to threads (remedial) the ones we hear the ones we tie
Finally, it remains impossible. Of course, in fairy tales anything can happen. Effects arise both from using others to our own advantage, and from their using us.
If the wife has the upper hand, the husband has the lower. Her clenched fist signifies, but the assigned tasks are wearing. So, parting deeply gives tunnel, as is so often said.
A visitor to this world must both learn to drive in his first ninety days and register as an off-planet sex-offender. Wreckage must be cleared away by dawn.
fr. Organ Harvest with Entrance of Clones (Hamilton Stone Editions, 2007)
or saltines staring blankly waist deep in blue broth of wilderness is breath is above page through chimerical evergreens lets better read huge as beauty its pulpit circling perpetually groovy machine it emanates it calls it speed dials follow me
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