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3 New Poems in Sporklet 15

Thanks to the Danika Stegeman LeMay for summoning my words from the Rust Dimension, I’ve got 3 new poems in Sporklet 15: “Da Fugue Zone Vol #23: I desire oblivion, rhythm, breakfast,” “Da Fugue Zone Vol #25: The Hour of Life In Which Mistakes Become Apparent,” and, ugh, “Sonnet On Fourteen One Dollar Bills in a Container with Several Copies of this Sonnet Each Line Available to Purchase for One Dollar and Fourteen Cents.”

Marvelous poems by Angie Mazakis, Matt Mitchell, Elisa Gabbert, Sean Cho Ayres (& more). Rusty Morrison writes “I realize now that for once I / wasn’t performing, just letting myself / listen to myself, for whatever I didn’t / know about the self who shot speed so / many years ago.” Rare company.

Rough drafts of “Sonnet On Fourteen One Dollar Bills in a Container with Several Copies of this Sonnet Each Line Available to Purchase for One Dollar and Fourteen Cents.” I hate typing this title.

Spork does its thing, chugging away for years: a stalwart small press with a low-key fabulous archive. And Drew Burk’s neon vomiting contributor proof page GIF. Seven years ago, through Jake Levine’s hands, they published a huge pile of poems not collected anywhere else (Part 1) (Part 2). Things evolve, but don’t go. I lv Spork.

Raining today in Buffalo. Working an evening shift at job #2. Typing this while people clear out. Here we go.

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End Capitalism Now: Da Fugue Zone in Elderly

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I’ve been writing a series of poems called Da Fugue Zone. One of DFZ’s threads is the experience of being deskilled. Another thread is disgust with capitalism. Another thread is how capital is just fine at coopting forms of resistance. Another thread is word goofs, metonymic chains, pleasurable intuition, and light refracting in the broken glass of the day. And here we are writing a blog post about it. Everyday stuff! Anyway, the point is: End Capitalism Now! is the title of Elderly’s super-massive most recent issue and some of these poems are there. There’s a rad load of stuff in here. Some things that stuck in a first browse (& which bring me back to the larger poem — )

 

Anselm Berrigan’s handwriting

 

from avery r young’s “so say(s) de blk creative to de blk capitalis(t)”

“i can be an undertaker

if I wanna make money    luv(r)

 

from CA Conrad’s “Corona Daze 21”

“who are these men show us their goddamned faces”

 

from CA Conrad’s “Corona Daze 29”

I held my breath often

last week trying to get

a relative out of jail in

another state before

the virus made its

way down the

jailhouse hallway

 

Eric Mesmer’s “Enisled”

 

fluvial , chthonic—

( gin, tonic–)

 

frag from fractal—

tectonic sift—

 

not a bucket

but a shovel

James Yeary, “Caveman Sententia.” James Yeary’s titles have always made me laugh.

 

Jennifer Karmin & Bernadette Mayer’s “Are We There Yet?”

 

are you writing then?

or just going haywire hoping

to end with a verifiable commitment?

oh dear, what would gertrude stein do?

survival is a form of repetition

oh dear, what would machiavelli do?

is that a fresh pasta from brooklyn?

i’m sorry i have so many husbands i’ll try

& be better, have fewer, in another life, you can

watch it on t.v.,

 

Lara Durback, “Recent Phases”

 

I rather like the 6 foot rule. I like the agreements. I see my own body lying on the ground, because I am almost 6 feet tall I see this fractal of myself radiating around myself.

 

 

I was too scared to go out all the time right before this, pre-prepared. The desperation of people surrounding me on my commute next to people at work who didn’t seem to care about any of it, some people who would call 311 number to take care of dog shit. And meanwhile everyone steps in the shit, waiting for someone in authority to clean it up.

 

Everyone was touching your items all over the world, it always felt like terror to me, so many people scrambling to deliver to the sedentary.

 

 

Lindsey Boldt starts TWO POEMS TOWARDS FULL COMMUNISM with “Can u shit / w/o a coffee.”

MC Hyland:

“What capital wants is to read you / & know what you are    & this is not the greatest suffering / but it should be refused with the other sufferings”

 

Ryan Eckes’ “Memo From Labor” from his book

 

Zach Haber’s “Man’s Law” begins “Heart vomit heart.”

 

Trying to say to my son it gets less lonely as I get older.         I say

I am more comfortable.          He knows I’m lying.

-Amie Zimmerman

 

 

 

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The Accumulation of Dwarf Thoughts / End Cops, Plz

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Dwarf Thoughts

“The Mule is Burning” // I write on a Covid-19 quarantine digital comfort food at Fence Digital. Secretly work out some thoughts on socialist municipalism.

 

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These walls are doors. These floors are floors. And everywhere ppl are working on wood.

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Once again marveling at resilience and creativity of ppl in Buffalo in resisting oppression. This time, from the police. Demanding defunding of BPD, calling out the mayor’s incredibly weak slate of reforms, demanding justice for Myles Carter and Deyanna Davis, and making sure Meech Davis, Pito Rivera, India Cummings and other victims of racist, killer policing in Buffalo aren’t forgotten. Black Love Resists in the Rust could use your support.

I’m starting to hear some discussions about how cultural workers and institutions can act in solidarity not just now but for the long haul. Urgent, overdue.