H_NGM_N #9

Friends,

See a link to the new issue of the fabulous online journal H_NGM_N, wherein I have some collaborative poems writ with Dobby Gibson.

Here's the official note from H_NGM_N's editor Nate Pritts:

Citizens of the world!

H_NGM_N #9 is locked & loaded & ready to be dropped from a low flying plane on some unsuspecting country whose regime is in need of being toppled.

& if that country is CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE you can start to see how my metaphor is apt:

http://www.h-ngm-n.com/cur_ent-i_sue

Please note that we are currently open to submissions until November 30th & be sure to check out the updated info on H_NGM_N Books:

http://www.h-ngm-n.com/h_ngm_n-books/

Matt

COLERIDGE ON SPINOZA, etc.

"Each thing has a life of it's own, and we are all one life."

[By the by, I recommend highly Adam Sisman's The Friendship: Wordsworth & Coleridge for anyone interested in these two poets, the Lyrical Ballads, and the underpinnings of Romanticism in general.]

ALEXIS ORGERA'S ILLUMINATRIX REVIEWED BY MARK ROCKSWOLD ON THE TARPAULIN SKY BLOG

Congrats Alexis!

Here's the link: http://tsky-reviews.blogspot.com/search/label/Mark%20Rockswold

THIS IS MY LAND ESCAPING

1) Poems register a particular way of paying attention. They point to/remind us of a certain kind of aesthetic interest, a way of using and engaging with language (to make a kind of sense), which is both heightened and degraded from the ordinary.

2) Form is the evidence of the parameters used to shape a poem (whether they're explicit, implicit, or considered only after the fact).

3) The highlight of the moment is my broken foot. Seriously, my broken foot. Throbbing.

4) This morning Agnes said: "Water comes out of my face, it just happens."

5) Someone else said, maybe me I can't remember, though I did write it down: In art the opposite of meaningfulness is not meaninglessness, but indifference and pointlessness.

6) How to write a poem: What would happen if...?

7) In the Udine region of Italy this summer, I actually woke up to the sound of a rooster. Then church bells clanged in the distance. Recently, reading Ann Lauterbach's Or to Begin Again, I thought of that rooster. Italy. Uncomfortably hot sun on my face.

8) "The question is no longer about what the artist is saying--in fact there is no question any longer--but only a sense of the object as a site where one's awareness is centered."--Crispin Sartwell on the Wabi-Sabi in Wolfgang Laib's "Mountains" of pollen.

9) I would like to make poems which are crash sites and/or building sites where one's (my) consciousness/awareness is centered.

10) I would like to...