New Apparition Poems: 1.31.14


Over smoky bar-
room nights, finished
in several half-forgiving
beds, were piths of blood,
corrupted air hovering,
noting I seemed
remorseless? Either
way, I suppose, you
sin if you think you
sin, and I say maybe,
scatter November leaves—


I collected light—
blue, red, green—
projected it over
& around me,
showered, put
on clothing, it
was 8:00, I was
ready to go,
a lady picked
me up in verse,
we went to dance
in prosody, got
there in a hearse,
now I recollect
all this light in
spite of death’s
curses in our
direction— two-
step, one broken.


there is a blush
that comes once—
when you know you
don’t know what’s
come. it’s new, this
“in,” it rounds, in
fullness, & means
you know love as
being no dream.
you sleep into it,
you sleep later,
past then— pure red.


Poems are not made
for the classroom,
because if they are made
at all, if they be poems
and not nuggets of faux
gold, destined for Styx,
looking them selves
over in prurient self-
hatred, there is fleshliness.
Poems are what they are,
but they must be this.
This, he says, is what
a poem will not become
once feeling has left the
room, taking with it a
milligram of Valium,
so that it may sleep
undisturbed by potency.


I suppose she told you how I
landed between her parted red
inhibitions like a rogue black plum.
Well, yes, you could say it happened

that way. You could also say she
sold me on the idea of veined trade,
or that her musky Scotch breath
excreted wafts of red bloodiness

into me. I promise you, it was
nothing like you heard. There is
no stain here. It’s just impulses I
reside in, like torn weeds cling to

rocks. I just know I like the part
where her skin is peeled, parted.


guido monte, "history of the world"


Comment of the author: this is the shortest blending poem ever written, only the first biblical letter of Genesis 1:1 – the “Beth” (on the Kabbalah it’s written it was necessary to begin with the second letter of the alphabet, not the first, because of the state of imperfection of the world), and the last letter of the Greek alphabet, Omega, that denotes the end of everything (Book of Revelation, 22:13)
(published on )


The West is the Best...

So, the sun sets on the Buffalo Poetics List. Elsewhere: Jeffrey Side's review of When You Bit... in Jacket 37; David Prater's review of same on his blog; and Peter Philpott's official site pages for the avant-garde.


Get back to where you once belonged...Otoliths 32

Because after all the mucky-muck, you either have the deep shit or you don't. 


Scrapping for a scrapbook...

Here's what's new in the files: the PhillySound reaction to Opera Bufa in '07; Mike Land's Highwire extravaganza at the Highwire in '06; my Stain of poetry reading in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, also in '07; Stain moves to Goodbye Blue Monday in Bushwick in '09; another PFS Presents in Chicago in '08; and a Chicago pic of me in Andersonville by Tim Yu in '07 again.


Archive.Is Link Catalogue

The catalogue here also subsistent in full-text.


From "The Posit Trilogy" in Otoliths

A page in the new Otoliths: poems from "The Posit Trilogy." Thanks to ed. Mark Young.

You can purchase Otoliths 32 in print here.


New catalogue

Newly Fieled archived on Apparition Poems on Bill Allegrezza's moria, from "Cheltenham" on Mad Hatters' Review, more "Cheltenham" Apps on Truck, a fictionaut thread with "When You Bit," the title poem, and from "Opera Bufa" on Simone Muench's Sharkforum. Peace out, y'all.


Opera Bufa

Opera Bufa, my first full-length print book, was first released in 2007, and has the same syndrome inherent in it that When You Bit... does; a foreign publication from a small press. Yet, Opera Bufa has also shown signs of strong sales, with full representation on Amazon and Lulu


When You Bit...

There is data suggesting that 2008's "When You Bit..." is my strongest seller. It was published by Otoliths; a small-press publisher from overseas; and has still found its was securely to Lulu, Amazon, and