MADONNA KABBALAH

THE SOUND OF YOUNG AMERICA + poetry by Jared Joseph | HOUSEFIRE

Mon, 20 May 2013 18:35:02 -0400

THE SOUND OF YOUNG AMERICA + poetry by Jared Joseph | HOUSEFIRE:

“You are afraid of Tuesday I’m going to marry / A skull with pubic hair, a city tangle sound of baby”

Enjoy THE SOUND OF YOUNG AMERICA, a new poem by Jared Joseph up on HOUSEFIRE today!

So this book I wrote is available for preorder now from Leif...

Sun, 05 May 2013 13:52:26 -0400

So this book I wrote is available for preorder now from Leif Haven’s wonderful press Persistent Editions. I am excited & bewildered & here, feel free. http://persistenteditions.com/books

the currant

Fri, 12 Apr 2013 20:23:40 -0400

ever have a vantage of the riches, the wealths

cosen him to mandate to you & He’s crumbled

: force. God

the void rubs a vapo

somehow survived tonight’s imagination.

: In signal of his power he will come : a long alliant ar.

of security for your Mister; he will shut your love in

Moses family & of Aaron; the angles have her in their

you as a sign, Waring/waning hug.

shoulders, he told his soldiers : God goes to prove the

with him is thirst : his thirst will not be mine;

alvo drinks the hole of hand) counting herself : hmong

all the rest drank their His thirst. When the way &

traversed the river the rest exclaimed upon the middle

a numerous ugly trope vanquishes a

eal to Pls Gd. God’s a condom

soft sugarwater : that you’ll lack the fear temptation.

mystique god. If they terminate their actions, intone

I know, I know perverser contracts.

like the back room

mouthing, & those secret place makeles below the

opens you, Porres them as they oppress you a

Mister saps the con with coins who fear the Opiteous

within the send a God & it does not appall you, it

manners flocking on your breath an abdomen. Do it

phases moons well, shar crescents pululate the Fiendish

& the visit to the saints’ places

Mamma rots in circles thru her ovarios, & if that

Don’t share : your wooly heads

where you owe one immolated star of being from your

would inform or waltz razors Rausing some sensation

a whole sickle-bodied Currant, continente this, he’s

savory

wrong & crooked lumps the moon

for women : ‘s ccramps, the possessive leaks tos ay it

a slit in which to enter Pardon : of God highly

Money is indeed an ecstasy, a manor in the otherwise ascetic

crenibues CONSERVED THE MEMORY OF

Mathers & haste men to life today. Hey, Men, that say

of ghosts that World of guts. There will have no

Mister, a signature a good part in this World a good

us in the FIRE in the ash mountain of the templ

to g oto them amidsr the TINY BLA BLAS OF

angels, & all the sea commanded all the sees

mortality causes turning unto God.

makes brilliant changes, God favorable, He apprehend this

is for the text that do careen towards the makeles

God atop those [1st. Ed.] on the day of underwear

without telling much about them love.

roundly fascinated like a nation

The deity of the book (The Pent

he truth, to decide among the men’s asses foam the

well, the men don’t pussy to dispute more than they

the evidente surges women threw the

guide to men relieving hazes smile for the truth

to be an object of dispute within permission of the

without heaving : thought sensed the book that

eeded you. Felt them up now well, the disfraces &

were lacy sockets : the adversity until the hasty

& those believing in him had exxclaimed : When

They ash you : They ask you how it’s necessary

Is he not caring the ox of cirling boustrophedonic

them bend & break, your Ma

there’s a manola, lovely Morello smells but with the

Which kind. The apple’s whole cohesive knows its

part with the taste of hit to better known be by God, my

& yet you rake & in aversion take upon yourself

which gives a vantage do you like dancing do you

but you don’t know the damages

Lope the sacred moth, stamped war nto this month Tell

a grave : peeking, part yourself from God’s send & relieve

jumbled, high-jumping expulsión from his rectum to

*The temptation of idolatry is worse than

your ripped shoulders are operas

the ether, a son, those men destined to the FIRE

the women, they all on your Brothers. Good knows to

& that the which does good. He’ll offbeat you if he

surge the better good

women til they don’t relieve. A believing slave’s

dolatrous women even when you like her oven. Don’t

A blowing slave values more than

capitalismo though you hate him more

to the mad floor, proverbially free, so the tread itself

House with shut.

persistenteditions: Coming soon from Persistent Editions.

Sun, 07 Apr 2013 12:39:44 -0400

persistenteditions:

Coming soon from Persistent Editions.

WHAT IS THE STYLE PREVALENT IN OUR OWN AGE CLASSICAL

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 10:08:48 -0400

terse my termination ceremonies

tongue, a signature I’ve done

they’ve invited that, limpid stomach

Mister try, define my wet hair dog

i’ve without crushed limping

path unto ourselves, congealed eats him

tremble wet dog blue private shot beets

me i touch giraffes. hanging from the margins me

defiling now they’re animal. They’re weird in

they have made of me a pardon

up the valley quotes the life rising

unquote mercy

is an ecstasy in fat

fucking oblate angel-smooth

all the hard on my little before is, un-hard he sources

he screens my head

before he knocks the ball, temple screams

the ash temples quote Tremble, then, to God wet dog End

Quote abrades you in the manner of

mirror in the face or, oaring hole

portmanteau a whole psychology

some prostitutions thought i was

thought me into being

a hot new parted lily futures

parted flower i am love with problems

& preserves, ash straight path, book the crimps

best day arrives a quote, like a sea
Quester, day horrible, house difficult, quothed the bask horrible repeating

repose the bed will not be horrible

on the contrary, corrugated ante is my runoff

horrible ante that man is

that man is shoulders

shoulders cripping crooning

accruing plays my football playing past

that man’s shoulders

past lion

beard

hat

When i was ugly when

wasn’t i? wasn’t i, A dire god

damned sense budding over

Fanta drinks

into me perfect

perfect

like one syllable pa’

no one not alone enough candela

seriously quote you are a better player

than i ever thought i was un

quote beautiful

loin like this cut of

book in states contrary

expresses a sincerity more complex before the feat of its

very irony encompassing, destroying every correct

left-body, lacunae, t-cell molecules a spit of atom ruining brain

ruining brain

& tic i spit

abrades

i hit a globe it was an

i declare autopsy on the table i am naked on

the table can’t believe this naked

my vary phloe

m this very furred pa’ beau

I remember portmanteau of Beau his blue eyes everyone Spoke

hushed how much they hated him they fucked him on the floe

husk of bugs

morning frost that hate of color

was his eyes’ colore

& make a lunch

i remember days days hunger

days after i forgot how much i hunger

him because i didn’t care, my glands were sponsored

posed around the hut

natural in a way hut buried

strata for the archers

who spit like aches

THWIP

i have felt nothing, & i remember fucking it.

i am working time toward feeling a Chinese paper moon

when i poled the moon

pulled in boat & water

quote He looked up in the sky through tiny crack the day green foliage

And he was overcome with wondrous

mosses end quote

moss-roses in the loosen gar

Tue, 02 Apr 2013 00:51:48 -0400

How can I successfully

absolute the purposeless body

This very furred beau

these – was the water-lily flower

a strum across a flower

don’t shake

& the body on her beauty

& the body on his beauty

& the bodice on ours, others, pressed

briefly care while, a little further again others pressed

all that is wife

all that is infinite – in the passing hour, it seemed

long & useless elegant gloves

& weren’t all

these careful interests & conditions just eva

I LOVE DICK

Sions of a greater truth, my cunt?

We’re washing my hair to gain

OH EGYPT I AM WASHING THAT

MY HAIR MIGHT GAIN KNOWLEDGE

OF YOU i am rosing

buleria mia

at the corner in wisconsin

the shout gripes some

with flu you shot out

streak was in love

in love with i was talking

love about reading

on the phone THIS morning noise

noise absolute, purposeless beauty

be all the problems all the time

REVIEW: Leif Haven's Japanese Red Leaf Maple

Wed, 06 Mar 2013 11:58:04 -0500

banangolit:

Japanese Red Leaf Maple
by Leif Haven
Love Symbol Press, 2012
50 pages / Free E-chap

REVIEW BY: Jared Joseph
Jared Joseph is a 1st year candidate for the MFA at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His chapbook “Commuting: Have Gone to Ithaca. -Frank Quitely” is available from Varmint Armature press. More poems & mutts are here.

***

Japanese Red Leaf Maple is a curated series of poem skirmishes based on found ads from the Portland Craigslist free section. The first poem is eponymous

Japanese Red Leaf Maple

in the wrong place.

needs a new home.

This bare gorgeous poemish from inception uproots the reader & sets a sort of precedent atmosphere of transplant & homelessness. The poemish-text on the one hand appears to have been written by anyone in direct reference to (A) the Japanese Red Leaf Maple, a natural object that has needs, a tree with people-needs. The poemish-text on the other hand appears to have been written by a reader in indirect reference to (B) Japanese Red Leaf Maple, a book based on error & re-appropriation, grammatical issues intact, dealing in issues of tact because it is a plea & also in abstract tactility, the intangible book that, hell who knows in another incarnation would have been made into paper from a Japanese Red Leaf Maple, but is instead coded binary. Its tangibility is assumed, as is the presumed tangibility of these titles’ unreal needy objects.

Read More

all the time

Sun, 03 Mar 2013 18:42:32 -0500

All angel dog gifs go to

heaven’s dynamite parties

made of blooms, blown apart sacred

ravishing monsters : that word has been prostituted

but love rehearses my identity

called eternity. Called it a drop

system like the beautiful

inspired by gods’ eyes’

gazes causing falls & burning froth

& moths on the ferns

the way all angel dog gifs go to heaven a gif from god.

Heat is hard, inaccessible to reason, reason not snipped

Like a hat uncircumcised.

Adults snipe the crayons off of children

& god He so incredulous. He damned them

rehearsing eternity

But they say: Our hearts

Are wild anise.

My hair is rinsed with raw & wild

I am made of rain

I take bolts of thunder bolts of ravish bolts of mulch up the ass they say.

I soften it with the they say like

The God of the Jews & the Christians

Looks directly at the model’s burning face

& sees Paris

In a way

They cannot stay this woman.

Nor why should I.

She is my overwhelming wife

Killed by dint of force of wonder

of the moon crime, yellow flowers

& the impact of the collection of them all revealing themselves

To be two partners one an angel inflicted pain roses while wrestling her

Own holy shit, the burning Susquehanna.

The Next big thing: jerimee bloemeke

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 19:28:19 -0500

I was tagged by Jared Harvey - thanks to him for providing his blog as an outlet for this.

What is the working title of the book?

Esoteric Cults of the American Soul

Where did the idea come from for the book?

It began as my thesis manuscript including poems I wrote while attending the WW, and has begun to incorporate projects including the 25¢ CASH (written non-lineated in a thrift store money ledger Summer 2011) and a suite of poems under the umbrella of Undergraduate Girl Women taking their formal cues from badness, easy rhymes, destitute poetics.

The title of the book was derived from a phrase coined by Allen Tate in the foreword of Hart Crane’s White Buildings I found in the Notes of Crane’s collected (p. 796-797, Library of America, 2006).

What genre does your book fall under?

Hopefully poetry, but that’s no doubt debatable.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Jennifer Lawrence. Werner Herzog. Zach Galifianakis. Vincent Gallo.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

“It is likely to be appropriated by one of the several esoteric cults of the American soul.”

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

2-3 years

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Art manifestos, read-only memory, Ft Lauderdale, corporate tombstones, amazon.com, pharmaceuticals, sororities, dream sequels, Jules de Balincourt, casinos, my girlfriend, the handicapped, childhood backyards, 80’s lyrics, the L&M Mighty Shop gas station in Iowa City, The Tennis Court Oath, Pall Mall blues shorts, apartment complex dumpsters, Lucas Arruda, crackberries, Jon Leon, train punks, The Invisible Committee/TIQQUN, glossy magazines, the Roxy Music album Avalon, CGI, colors, 90’s hits, clothing, public library clientele, montages, lakes, Roberto Bolano novels, cognac, tornado warnings, missed calls, text messages, the marginalized, humans in general, white walls, my friends, free concerts, currency, misogyny, the Hamptons, the Aurora massacre, merchandise exchanges, whiskey, my grandfather’s abstract paintings, Woody’s in Cedar Rapids, “undergraduate girl women,” neon, jokes, bestsellers, rhyming, obsolescence, anachronism, laptop TV, vapor-wave, Frederick Seidel, mainstream rave culture (to an extent), the Miami Dolphins, Jeff Griffin poems, abortion clinics, logos, camouflage technology, art museums, etc.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

n/a

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

It is available for publication and representation right now, but I’m not going to publish it myself…

My tagged writers for next Wednesday are

Jeff Griffin
Russell Jaffe

The Next Big Thing

Fri, 15 Feb 2013 15:14:47 -0500

Carrie Lorig tagged me & now I tag along

What is the working title of the book? 

The Currant

Where did the idea come from for the book? 

Present fruits, The Koran, Madonna, Gershom Scholem

What genre does your book fall under? 

Bib Lit, bib spittle, Crooners of the 50’s

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Huddie Ledbetter

 What is the one sentence synopsis of your book? 

God said to Adam: Show Los Angeles the numbers of all beings & when he (adam) had done so, The Mister (aGod) had done so, The Mister said : Didn’t I say I know the secreto f the ceilings & the torso, that which you do to the Light of day & that which you make apoque to hide : As if blind girls glass from me.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript? 

At the 1 month mark now

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Irrepressible boredom, date palms.

 What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? 

Black currants are incredibly rich in phytonutrients and antioxidants having potential health promoting and anti-disease properties. This highly esteemed berry

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? 

Please redirect this question to my sty of uncountable lawyers.

My tagged writers for next Wednesday are

Dan Poppick

Jerimee Bloemeke
Jessica Laser

forever

Mon, 11 Feb 2013 00:06:04 -0500

hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey

hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey ey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey

hey hey hey hey vey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hep

hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey bey hey hey hey hey

hey hey hep hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hex hey

hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey

hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hep hex

hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey

hey hey hex heyx hey hex hey huey hey hey hey

hey hey hey hey hey hex bey bey hep

hex hay hey hey vex hey hex hey hey hey

hex hex drey hay gue hex It hey

hex hey hex drex hey yhau hey sex

hey hex hey hey hey dsev hesy They

they they hye hex hex heg hexe

hey hey hey hex bey heg hex hey hey hay

hey hex hey hey husy hey Lex

hey hey hex hey hey hex harey hex

tey hey vex hex Trey hey yeh

Rey nph hey hey hert vey hog very

hex hey hey xex nes ney xey

boy all day

drew on her face

private lessons.

all day

boy drew on hex face

private lessons

boy all day

drew on hey face

private lessons

private lessens

drawn on hayseed

boy all day

Nacay

Hey seed

rude on a fey

fairy privates

seedy he

doe face lemur

rude permanent

my duty

is a bad duty

bye all day porous lexics

drew on hey faces

private lesis

private lesions

is clearly

my duty

is a bade duty

is baby wreaths

my specter

rode all day

ghost leaves

my cleave

is hot boy

boy all day weapons

my rule pony

is a hey seed

is cl

ear ruse

my ruse

is sure as

roses

my roses

is roses

mitosis

my doses

as tone

blows

my blo

nde hair ro

ad government

my greek dec

ay dec

ember roses

my greek decays december’s roses

my coals

are humps

lovely

lady all dey

hey

boy all that rude

ooooh

ooh

wee

mayfly

oooh

weee

lay flies

oooh

weee

let fly

oooh

schlafly

there is

no schlafly

schlafly

no schlafly

more schlafly

then schlafly

more schlafly

than meets

thy

lady all day

hey boysen

berry

rhx-rise

rhy rose

thm ble

aye-aye

foot

in the deer humor

eye eye

foot

in the deer hun

ter

on the door hair

blonde government

models feels

frustrate

lightly in my

water vine

gar

in my wate

r fur

vine

gee

tary

tatouille

hee hee

tatted

hee

die

graci

no muerte

muerte

yes carp

e die

middle

love

sta

tue

sday

gratis

bile

perf

orm

rom

ance

perv

ert

romance

peeping

tom

blue

pants

dog

ddog

prince

mom’s

gift

basket

moms

gift

baskkk

ettes

wine

lay

lady

address

wine

this

country

nice

ferry

beau

tried

how

beaut

you

? paddler

poles water

padd

le morte

tremolo

hey pole man

hey hey hey

blood

ffff

fuck

water

fishes

ghosts

hum

ming

bird

nasty

ming

nasty

man blood

fishes

the

ghosts up

thanks

fur

being

made

thanks

for

being

made

mom

the

ories

thanks

fur telling

thanks

for be

coming

stories

out

our

hanks

for

muscl

ing

coin

treau

to my

hankering

mout

hhhhhhhhh

than

ks f

stor

very

single

thank

for America

n s

tories

coming

out o

myy

our

story

hole

Esent’Aye

Sun, 03 Feb 2013 21:17:32 -0500

Foot contacts earth

My essence is dogs.

They call fur hair that

Hates rain.

They bite my mandibles

Into hands.

I choke crawfish.

I bark at small childs

I bury myself.

There are three dead witches

They live in the fractured bark

of the city outskirts’ tree by the hideous igneous rock horrible head

Ache horrible as people.

There is a calm place

It is not here

This is eternal.

Every step the electric fence

Says hello

I collapse

Dreams of wolves

Dreams of red

Dreams of result of values and red.

Foot contacts earth

They gnaw off my foot

The other tears the sky

Pink sky, fingers itself

Rosy twilight

Behind my life daffodils

Pissabed and sun

The son cannot hold his bladder.

This daily problem my soul

Gets in my body

Toxic shock

Despite the manifold golden

Catheters I wear

Which wear out.

Smear out that other thing.

Buy me every ipad

i will download the maps

Swear by it

Individually, every territoried

Quadrant of earth

& I will lay over every surface

area of the earth the maps

& if that hummingbird don’t sing

Momma’s gonna buy you a conquering flood.

& if that great flood’s conquering don’t –

From the great monolith obsidian hideous rock horrible head

Ache this problem – contact earth

Lets not live.

you used to wear red clothes

Thu, 24 Jan 2013 20:58:26 -0500

you used to wear red clothes.

and i am a blue tunic.

now my hands are cold

now my hands are cold freezing

and cold

you used to wear red clothes

you used to read me Ito

Ito to wear red clothes

closed life

closed life up

closed up life you came back.

you gave me pink clothes for my hands

you came back new blue gloves

and closed pink gloves on my hands

now i wear pink clothes

you used to wear red clothes & I

& i still remember

i still remember nothing.

besides you

when i was bedside

you were bedside too

when i was above you you

absorbed me til your red clothes

turned red, turned me around upside

down my entrails falling down red

and blue bedside

i absorbed you then because

you wanted very much to.

you wanted too much.

i absorbed your wanting too much

it was too much

your wanting too much

i became red clothes

i used to become red clothes

on the phone we are blue clothes

in different cities

reading Hiromi Ito

we are one dead child

i read the playwrights

i read the shamans

i still read hiromi ito because

now i am a ghost.

you once wearing red clothes

is a ghost i absorb wanting too much

i am wanting too much

i want too much

now i am a ghost

my entrails wearing red clothes

your poetry in the sky and suffer

yours live in heaven’s after poetry

rhymes with heavy

rhymes with life

like our footsteps used to carry

the bed reds between us

pushing it out doors

looking for the new home

looking for the old dollar

you used to wear red clothes

now we’ve found a new home

now i am a ghost with red entrails but

waking trails behind you

to find me by my red trails

now i am a ghost

hold, my life is roses.

violets copy right with roses

copulate with other ghosts

hate with other ghosts

now i am the ghost of red clothes

that you were

last i saw you

you used to wear red clothes

last i saw you

you were a picture in black and white

you once wore red clothes

you used to wear red clothes

now i wonder what color

now i am i wonder what color

what color red clothes.

Antigone

Wed, 16 Jan 2013 20:15:22 -0500

I move this book forward over the corpse of a man

It didn’t put me to laughing.

Father, who had been born as a ghost

He saw the danger in being a heap of being.

He who writes into the void has no use for punctuation

The surface of the cinema

It is all dukkha-birth dukkha

old-age dukkha pain dukkha

death dukkha, dukha-sensations

pain and stiffness

Mental states, like colored cloths

Stick to the heart.

Dash itself against itself again

Be a flash of the entirely new

“sticking to the heart?” Just look

Awesome sticking power of the gory death.

Always yesterday-haired people

Perhaps terribly stuck in it

Talk to the anger of the gift

Then spend all day studying power.

Which money eats money, the carnivorous way wealth

The dead are lonely.

Corpse, on purpose

Society is the gift

Person that you love is like a pit of gravity

To the dead.

And gone

To a funeral casino are a gift to the dead

Dead first father

Crowds come out from all around

He has to drink only foreign whiskey

Dead first father.

Assembled around the candles and the incense and remembrance

of the un-

In about every instance money is the unspoken

quiet dead

Pick up all the footsteps and the fingerprints he had

causing skillfulness

There is nothing outside the gift.

A set was spilling water spreading merit. If you are touching them

The State Ghosts

Long must they? Forever

a quiet, capillary proliferation of

Cowards crowd all around

a strophic violence that breeds

death-effects

Society is the gift.

The world is formless and cheating

Even cheated of their corpses

Pick up all the footsteps and the fingerprints he had.

If you shoot us to death if you kill us we SMILE.

Cough smoke up at heaven.

Bullets stick in them just like us

If you are touching them

Life buy their heads in the sky.

Tue, 15 Jan 2013 19:36:00 -0500

As I pull my pants up while everything is ending I crap out Mark Zuckerberg’s profile picture. It feels good to digest new media. I hadn’t known it could be done. But now I feel finally a little more private in the waiting room of the vaccination nurse’s office, where the sick loners go to prepare for safe human contact later. A dove releases from my fly. I take off my hat & I feel my bald spot while I, intoxicated, delete my one life’s love from my phone. Later after I burn down my apartment, the city catches the contagion & burns down, too. The idea is just that good.

I don’t credit myself originating the idea, as the vaccination package had included a safeguard against that & anyway I think that is illegal to do.

So after the city burns down this diner where music is playing in another city as from a music box is nice about their coffee. I’m feeling a little self-conscious about my needs, for example I can’t go to the public square, to any public square or they’ll lynch me. So I stay here in the anonymity. This is a need like water, & I hate rain. Often when I carry in my fur rain, I get very ginger tender thunder, & all my antibodies go pro, & I lose consciousness until I find myself at McDonald’s on my Snow Leopard Operating system purring softly to the Green Goddess Hey I am sorry I have nowhere else to go, although I am inaudibly soft, but I drag the deities after me anyway

After I am gone, I don’t know who will be here to ask me how long I’ve been here. When that day comes I will say A little over 5 minutes, & we will make love apologize until you leave I am making love apologize alone into my phone, which means I am asking Where is your number? Somewhere dancing in the snowfall. Somewhere dancing in the snowfall, deep in the snowfall center’s ring. Somewhere dancing in the snowfall, deep in the snowfall center’s ring around the white snow lions, there is a need like water for apples.

I was at a state party

Fri, 11 Jan 2013 15:35:53 -0500

GO TO THE STATE party

The price was morning

And after they took my liver

I filled it with hole

I bought all the morning

I ate raw hole

Jokes, I ate cockroaches raw

& I cocksucked the bugs

Because I am homophobic

I am homeless people

I talk through the can at god

Mon, 31 Dec 2012 15:32:33 -0500

When I am four pleading for snow

To reproduce its clones, all unique white lies

Across the same patch of neighborhood so

Like a whale song cancel school.

Whale songs are unique like god is one

Which makes two if you’re counting likenesses

Panting the city & the nature pink as god & yourself

Pink is a narcissus girl color. Boys oblivion

ad hot

Your writing brings all the boys to yard

Cow milk on the paper

Bloodplash on the paper

In little splashes of the spanties that the sprophet hostess calls

It blood pollution I don’t care for.

I don’t care against.

I think goat.

On the crumpled floor is warm

But the ceiling fan need blow smoke out

The room is imperceptible.

There’s weight to express my love

tree growing in their heads, & when the brain

Itself I love throws open another synapse

Let’s get city & widowed. Can’t we go

All unique our plans & share them

In the couch of your navel when I want becoming more

Sailor around in the horse secrets of the stable where

the mares

SUCH A SUN

Tue, 25 Dec 2012 15:21:35 -0500

SUCH A SUN

freshtoil: this is a beautiful and astute reading of my...

Tue, 18 Dec 2012 04:09:16 -0500

freshtoil:

this is a beautiful and astute reading of my Japanese Red Leaf Maple

thank you for the review beach sloth

beachsloth:

Japanese Red Leaf Maple by Leif Haven

                Craigslist shows humanity at its weirdest. With Leif Haven’s chapbook he shows the bizarre goings-on of free stuff offered on Craigslist. Ranging from the perverse, why would you even give it away to the ordinary, these little snippets suggest larger stories. By giving bare minimum details the Craigslist Free Ads suggest a deeper backstory. They tease with images of how they ended up being given away for free, on the curb, in the backyard, or in large plastic bags. Due to the sheer number of these ads Haven’s work shows the inherent goodness of people. Whoever is giving these things away wants a good home for them. In fact several state for a good family or for someone in need. Craigslist free ad creators want to make the world a marginally better place in their backyard.

                The plants are strange. Several plants are given away. One is ‘in the wrong place’. Another one is basic sod. Why someone would give it away is strange. Various shrubs are given away. Sidewalks are being expanded. Without a special someone the plants would wither away or simply be destroyed. Offering it to someone else is thus the best way to ensure survival of the hearty little plants. Parts of the plants appear extremely strange. Pick figs in a front yard. Anybody can go to the place and just pick them. Free leaves are given away in case there is ever a shortage of leaves. Wood chips are given away. Broken shards of glasses require a new home. Perhaps this is an extreme form of recycling. Or maybe the owners of the broken shards of glass are curious about who would want them.

                Darker things are given away. Some of these things are funny (the Playboy – good condition is one example). The sadder things are the most moving. With the sad things it is reminiscent of the short six-word Hemingway story “For Sale: baby shoes never worn”. Broken infant swings offer up a slice of that sadness. ‘Working hospital bed and mattress’ fits into that category. Description is given in full: low to the ground, works great. The shocking or deeply depressing part of the ad is the ‘now we do not need it anymore’. Is this from death? Did the person’s condition improve? For what reason did they have it in the first place. Thanks to the brevity of the ad it remains unknowable. Anyone who picked up that item was probably in for the most depressing backstory ever, along with exchanging why exactly they were picking it up.

                Leif Haven’s work is so simple. He picks a wide range of ads from funny to sad to simply bizarre. The description is kept as he saw it. Grammatical errors and typos are kept as he found them. Re-arranging and changing the order of the sentence (offering space) lets the reader get the full impact of each ad. These are a wonderful look into possessions as a way to live.

"Apostrophe is thus an indirect, unstable, physically impossible but phenomenologically vitalizing..."

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 14:44:33 -0500

“Apostrophe is thus an indirect, unstable, physically impossible but phenomenologically vitalizing movement of rhetorical animation that permits subjects to suspend themselves in the optimism of a potential occupation of the same psychic space of others, the objects of desire who make you possible (by having some promising qualities, but also by not being there).
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Apostrophe is not only the condition of love but an ideal of self-encounter. Can the addressee make more of it than you can, she you who waits for the sentence of your existence to finish and, inevitably, to miss its mark? For the addressee, you are willing to make provisional clarities. For the addressee, you are willing to perform an openness that’s an optimistic brokenness. If you’re lucky, you’re a topos in your own world, although without the apostrophic phantom you cannot exist in the world.”

- Lauren Berlant on apostrophe in Cruel Optimism and “The Book of Love is sad and boring, no one can lift the damn thing …” (via loneberry)