Monday, December 16, 2013

"The president is obsessed: / breathing at the sun..." / El Aleph Press

El Aleph Pressplanet with many transistors, received a thing of mine and will do something with it. They do nice broadsides out there too.


Also Pablo Neruda just regular died.

Also the newish DEAR SIR, is a fun night, one can be out and leather and dance? But Dear Sir, stays fun. Brad Vogler’s erasure (?) proj gets out the snow fear and paranoias and shaky propellants, and C Dylan Bassett’s work keeps close to the bone, does not go on vacation, good ol’ George Mckim punches a hole in the narrative with the connectivity threshold, fusing, orienting, culling in his piece.

Also ... 4:30, of


Next one in town

Poet's Corner, that Vanderbiltish monthly meet, is up again: Rick Hilles - 12/19

Monday, December 2, 2013

"Earth hound./ Soap butcher./ Skeleton laying on its side./ Husbands beetles soviet dung tuft.." / poems in Likewise Folio

I'm a complete vassal for not having read this. Olson, The Distances.


am reading


Nikki Giovoni read again but not to me, elsewhere ( website design )

Gaylord Brewer read at Scarritt-Bennett, & I missed that ( website whistle )

Then Ciona Rouse did another Lyrical Brew 

I caught the tail of the trio by that last, but, ah now is December, alongside, curled in, atop.


and what, the music blog aggregator extraordinaire is now a single word hovering at all the internet hordes of internet hoofsounds ( ? ) 

All Day and All of the Night by The Kinks on Grooveshark

Windowlicker by Aphex Twin on Grooveshark

Dondante by My Morning Jacket on Grooveshark

HOLDING ON THE BLACK METAL by My Morning Jacket on Grooveshark


and been space - Likewise Folio has agreed in principals to set up some pieces in their next batch, to commit batch; they do it bi-monthly. Abigail Zimmer made me do it.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Recent Musics + 2 Nashpo Readings

First. Pile, Of Montreal, Wild Beasts.

Prom Song by Pile on Grooveshark

Colossus by of Montreal on Grooveshark

Please, Sir by Wild Beasts on Grooveshark


O, the Beef played Dino's again bassless though, an almost status on the EP as of now.


It was:

Now it's ( ? ):


And the poetry readings of late, Lynn Emanuel. The meta bursting all like woodmines. A question was asked about the prolonged and frequent presence of the writer in the writing, to which she replied "it's an ethical decision," to be judged alongside the poem, as inside of it. It's a good response to a practice of census that is not often pleasant. Names dropped - Frankie O, Gertrude, Ted B. "Chain," "ball," "page," "poet," "hovering," "now." "My Life" starts her newest book, Noose and Hook ( which thrusts the jowly ferocity of an open bear mouth out of the cover). One reviewer says that the book has "an advanced career quality." I don't think my opinions are relevant in the face of that.

Lyrical Brew had another month's worth of reading. Chance Chambers was the one that read well enough, "advanced career quality" material, though the advancement was in a certainty of where parts are, how they behave with other parts, how speed or the index of a situation is necessary or blurred, a physiological imperative with psychological tentacles ( all things the fictions hold for a helm ). Plus his effbook image is 308's five buck drink menu, plus he uses emoticons.

Monday, October 14, 2013

Southern's Festival of Books

Strewn of days immersed in the poetries that are to be had here at the Southern Festival of Books, its 25th.

Rooms - What a rampart are these police that are not able to be seen. Government shutdown. Judgement rooms, court volume. People fill them making volume, getting into it. Most of the readings were regarding The Southern Poetry Anthology, volume VI of a state by state shakeup of known, teaching voices. A regional satellite, the beginnings of the shapes in any place are the range, pool, weight, is the limit in their being seen.


Animals - Two stories with large cats a day apart. "What I was would not work for them all..." is how James Dickey's "Encounter In the Cage Country" starts. His son, Christopher ( though the son of a writer maybe develops a terrible coat from the almost necessary mention of the exact person previous to him ), read his father's poetry, that intimate filial curious sheet between time, and do them amazingly. If to draw from the events a priority thing, this one.

Jeff Hardin makes a Mitch Hedberg joke. He grew on me, made me want to vote, think about the specific things under my control that I can improve.


Effects - Deborah Bernhardt read to still crowds, spearing, avenued, content in burst ( her hemistitches pulse the creature content, stretch of that which volume is close to ), tonality with indeterminate range, "...direction of our faces..." / she read from Echolalia and from Driftology.

Jan LaPerle reads, and her fear, stated and kept, propels her work, trajectory like testimony, testimony, the good poetries have something testimonial. And, I think, she has four hearts or one four times the size or forty or inside her poems. More in than what they surround.

Tyler Mills read, more challenge is with her work, delightful, and graceful, serene, too, though like a Ken Burns movie. Lyn Hejinianan. Somewhere in her reading I obsess the word 'random: randomly randoming randomed, randoms...'


I text a friend: 'make yr poem the awe pod'. 'Kiss-poems.' 'How'd you hurt your arm?'

Got an earbud caught in a bench, a man has a metal tool, he spreads the wood to free it. I was thinking about the entrance of the earbud and less its exit at the moment, but now I think of the last part. I think he was a poet, Keith Flynn. I wanted to think about Rimbaud and Verlaine, wrists.

All the King's Men by Wild Beasts on Grooveshark

Monday, September 30, 2013

Readings attended weekend / plus, 2 of a Beefy 3rd

Two unmissed readings this past weekendish - Kevin Young, winner of a 2013 PEN award, finalist for a National Book Critics Circle Award, read his writing to a full hall at Vanderbilt's maddened campus the other night. I made it slightly late, plopped down in the grey carpet wing with grapes and sippycup with wine and consumed almost an entire claw of grapes. 'Rhythmic spaces for breathy still / tonality cleared against, and blues, and puns, lightly pedagogical / some pausal end with no end / I guess antagonistic to mere forms / safety / money, odes / a poetry sometimes teaches against itself,' then a drawing that looks like spaghetti mopped over some old seaman's jaws.

Then Ciona Rouse's lovely event - Lyrical Brew - brought together three readers to present their work in expanding volumes per round, versatility, volume, relation. The format, as always, entices, fosters. Stephanie Pruitt Gaines, Tiana Clark, and fervent Bill Brown read to a packed sector at West End's Barnes & Noble.  Bill Brown stands out as a leaning, warry, experiential voice, at one point hollering "Bomb - Womb - Tomb" repeatedly peering out with a Creeley smear. Though a small number of reading series have appeared in the slumber of PoetrySucks!, I think Lyrical Brew may be the most accessible ( though intimate ), unpretentious ( and surprising ), sociable ( but varied ) milieu. Every month at the end of the month at the B&N across from Centennial Park at 7pm.


Been spending most of the times over at Rhino ( check out their back issues, plus Founders' Prize ) and revolution and/or poetry, & listening my hair out to Echo Comets, and Haunted Horses.


And the Beefies, Beefering Beef Oven had music at divest Nashville Springwater missing bassnotes and a bassman but are recording their EP exactly now, so that's grand, and are set to play a fistfull of shows in October - like their effbook for updates and schtuff.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Chicagi Spread

A day from the Chicagi* visit and reeling, time with the spearhead of family, maternals, fraternal, being all up on their skin in the same rooms, something chemical, what Frank Lloyd Wright did with mass - compression & release, how 'ol Frankie made his theory masses how I am with family.

Flight, we are panels of a thing afraid of its insides, far from the openness of Wright Brothers, last week they had very difficult times flying for more than a minute, from airport a milky eyed man has trouble defining his city to me, it maybe moves past his experience of it to me.

First night the hotel didn't give access so brother Tom and I poked our heads into the town slightly and by slightly I mean infinitely; hooch was obtained in our five hour walk, southside, then the sky opened like Bowles understands god, and our puny purple hoods were weak, absolute is a word that comes to mind, the absolute of rain's watery range was our context, brother Tom heavily upset but me ( rum ) well enough and already the instance pupped along memory and closeness of compression & release, the combinations of emotion and fury, of direction and efficiency, location and movement.

A day later some nightlong affair of shootings.

Mute rental cars, deep pizza, walking, alcohol, obsessions over the bean, failed drug dialogues, flat -

Myopic bookstore came recommended and was visited, snatched up Aase Berg's Dark Matter.

The sun was never absent or stagnant, in my vision the glare of a moving sun is a word repeated on objects I pass.

Hardcore burgers, walking, Charles Shaw, men fighting men, running across Lakeshore to skit around Michigan Lake, and television, the hollow gems have a filling which is to say when you go looking for one thing you may have a hard time finding it, when you go look for anything you have a much easier time of the entire thing.

Flight, journal re-appraisal, offered whiskey by executive young typewriter pants girlish woman, accepted, small gazey poem jotted on napkin that went 'I am trying percussions against every other person, the planes talk about each other over some clouds, there are only a small amount of moments we are actually in movement' and ended 'how does it always arrowing?"

Airports are never without a tension of pasts, airports cannot produce anything but negative histories, it is itself a place of conduit, for the movements, and they reek of the shallow tube they are, pent.

Walked out of the airport on their lawns into the throat of the freeway side, then penetrated deep head high bush of poison ivy and black lizard rocks and stream spider web held to decipher fence from thick screaching brush then up and lean and into and over these and adventure smile with ripped pants and some small blood, small itching, I am unallergic to that from which I emerge, Nashville then.

*Lew Welch's oft quoted repeated Chicago Poem

Friday, August 30, 2013

Ulysses, Seamus, DrakeFrank

Ah snap, Drake ( sprite ? sprite ) got tangled with Frank O'Hara ( 'mash-up' ). *


Starting an americo poem-burst named Ulysses S. Grant that has nothing to do with him, except the haunt of handless folk. 


Seamus Heaney, keeper of language ( ? ), departs the earth but his footlong-width 'collected poems' still exists on in libraries.

* ps. / how I adore the ol Frankie O, recommended free spirit boost of the day

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

'P i d e r II / Summer is everyone's oxygen too

Whose lil shoes got bigger during sleep?

'P i d e r  II  - New, Vague, Omniscient

* Or sure go ahead and go back to its previous, first - 'P i d e r  1

Monday, August 19, 2013

"...Swerving / the ends of your teeth, At the sun." / Chunk of Rum Gums in Steamer #4

Nashville narrows and expands, width feud depth and contraction. August has the teeth of summer this way. More whom than where.


'Ol Sam Langer and his Steamer are at #4, and saw fit to stash a bit of mine in there. One can order ( ? ) this zenith booklet ( a set of two ) from him directly ( ? - probably cheap, plus it ain't nowhere online nor even goggle-eyed with at by googling it ) -

You will not be unexcited, unembarrassed.


Have not been sending work anywhere for months now, finishing 'o n e' and configuring 'See, they return' into a chaptered array of facets...

And lo our 'P i d e r II is coming to y'all quiet soonish, with work from some seasoned comrades, and a newborn musico. Keep your eyes open, be looking good ( tambien check 'Pider #1 in case you don't know what's what eh ).

Friday, July 19, 2013

'Value' read 'valve'

Yah the 'poetry/literature is dead/doesn't mean crud anymore' issue limps on, skewed by people that wanna get things off their chest. The issue is made heavier by some jacked up numbers: the writings of ladies are less presented than the writings of males. On and on and on this thing goes. What is reflected by this, the anger and zeal over a literature that does not reflect anyone anymore, that people don't feel represented by literature, that literature simply cannot represent anything? 

Internet, the pervasiveness of literature, via the internet, to literature corrodes/has corroded the question of privilege to some great degree, has it not...

Internet is the equalizer of culture, technology is the alteration of culture into symptom, poetry/literature is the symptom of us now.

Poetry/literature with a pre-understood set of intrinsic, nonequivalent, jacked up facets regarding receipt, audience, readership, affect, riches, respect, recognition is no new skinny for people engaging in it. 

For a straight whitesh male to say such inelegant things is bad taste, but taste. Taste, in the arts, the notion of taste in art. America is a kid with no taste buds, and no appetite for nothing neither.

So much attention to who is what, seems a waste. Make the art. What is 'getting access'? Getting access to being read, getting access to being appreciated as a writer, getting what and how. Has it not been that poetry/literature is less dependent upon getting something for its production than its coming into being, its existence...

There is a great decadence to the pessimism that seems necessary to write anything of importance. 

An unyielding, inarticulate, obscure sense of inadequacy and anger foreground the art I understand as 'good'.

Doom. We are not the we we talk about when we talk about we. Poetry/literature is in this way always deathing. Because the power and exclusive importance of the straight white male to make himself always so is waned. Those for whom an optimism is a necessary part, those to whom an outward still warmly cares are split then. 

Skew that which creates symptom, virus, narcotic is a moment of poetry/literature, connected to the drugs they they they.


I know who Amanda Bynes is when other people know who Amanda Bynes is and not before.

Friday, July 5, 2013

Bunkers / ThirdManRecords-PoetrySucks! Marriage / Beef

o brother, egypt, egypt direct, egypt linear

we had here our red chests on the young men hovering on top of the slip n slide, potato salad, beer, rains, firecracker demos, lady dances for the 4th


Plus the Jonathan Richman show was delightful, humid, unimpeachable, acoustic roars, gypsy americana.


these are complicated images - a side effect of google earth's massive project


The radical, insightfull English Language Notes, and Language in Society each tossing me bones of late months, each aiding, each for me to play catch up, to forward, each and neither available easily on line

(where does one acquire out of print books for very cheap? Bunker Archeology - from which these



Third Man hosts a PoetrySucks! reading on Sunday, 7/7, should be myriad entendres happening, with Paige Taggart reading, also Sampson Starkweather 

And and and The Big Beefers, Burg In Your Eyes, Pseudo-Omnivore, Beef Oven is doing up The Stone Fox on Wed, 7/10

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Namaste houseshow / missed reading

Tao, Mingus ( I've bee'd through all of Yo La Tengo, their bests always are the 8-14 min songs, with mantra chant bass lines repeating under/around distortion ), Oppen, Aime Cesaire's Notebook. Don Delillo!


Namaste houseshow friendparty bday keg-in-the-el-camino went swell - Kin Ship, The Beef-Hags, R. Ghosts, Clear Plastic Masks stirred such a hotfoot party brew that everyone sloshed in the cup, backyard cuba 50's DIY economic setups mingled abuzz atop ourselves, we all split into sounds just pushed through each other unbodied then rebodied in materials leaned out on, I did.


Missed B&N's Lyrical Brew this last saturday. These things happen.

PoetrySucks! to host an open mic at where else Dino's on the 6th, go sure, sure.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Missed Readings, ' P i d e r / Honey Locusts

Toubab Krewe is playing at my house ( also Exit/In tonight )

and tomorrow, May 25, duende forces Josephine Foster w/Victor Herrero play The Stone Fox with Honey Locust. Go there.

Also the Owl Farm is three for three on delivering straightup fun and delightful, stimulating, eccentric shows. I'm going more often.


Day the less objects jammed back into themselves, drum close wind, altered. After waking from men construction everywhere adjacent windows, I find little bones in the streets. Olsen's Maximus never got done, in face I owe money for re-re-re-rechecking it out /plus spilling coffee into her and quick bits of head hair during hair cut reads. Onto and re-into George Oppen, his brevity, linearity, machinations.

Our 'Pider, ya'll made this list of experimental journals- Selby's List 

As per norm of late, missed last nights Poet's Corner at Vanderbilt. Jamie Collins read, uh, his, uh, po, uh, etry. Also, I missed sentry Toni Morrison read at the Barnes & Noble last week too. 

O, PoetrySucks! is doing an open mic thing at homebase Dino's on the 6th, June.

*Recommended reading/listenings - explore yr tear ducts, compounded by the quality of his writing: Larry Eigner at PennSound. Pull up the written along with the vocal.

Friday, May 3, 2013

"...we are to where / direction / has assumed / assumes / too many names..." / Poem in the In This Place Project

Campstars, wind in the mouth, tentpinchers: Got a poem ( "See, they return" ) in the absolutely fresh bioregional poetics anthology of Abigael C. Tripp ( the project is her thesis project, a darn fine one ) - In This Place

Who want to go to that new Zeitgeist? Its former spot now a bunkhole in the hillsboro torso.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

" are out / and a thing / is like you , through, more it, / too, shook the swamps..." / Poem up to Dear Sir,

"Town, of Furs" ( from a series of a bunch of Town, of's ) is ready to be et in Dear Sir,'s newest one, get yr slice of upside down cake over at Dear Sir, 


Now at least three ( 3 ) readings series in Nashville ( ? ) - PoetrySucks! & ( its new altered incarnation ) Sing Again Soon / Vanderbilt's Front Porch & Poet's Corner ( plus on-campus readings ) / & Barnes & Nobles' Lyrical Brew ( events nowhere listed on their website, check fbook ). Needless, a culture appraised long for music ( even if country ) ought expand ( outward, forward ) into more artfull aware less tired avenues with/in language; a re-appraisal of Nashville's chances for literary relevance in a national perspective is being cultivated. Cultivated, though, and bestly, by non-academic presentations of poetry ( this is in accord with the astounding house-show culture that exists concurrently ).

Plus Parnassus ( eh, but less eh with David Sedaris coming to town ) & new Howlin' Books ( adjacent Grimey's off 8th ) to boot, cahoots ( someone in the know said they may be hosting readings )...


& 'Pider 2 wants that art ya'll: send an art or two or three to us to gawk to, submissions to

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Sang Again Soon + Caldwell Beefs Houseshow

Readings last night, Dino's hosting a joint venture: Sing Again Soon, Richard Houston's gem baby, hosted Whit Smith, Joshua Gillis, Spencer Connell, Harry Kagan, but then I lost Kendra Decola for the roof, and for pitcher-beer, it's an easy roof, and below me I could feel timbres of microphoning words, sure. It was a social drinking smile house, it's a bravo moment for the nashvillers that are (in/to) it, and burgs were getting stuffed in mouth places where words are from out of.

Chrome Pony was the buzz of intermission and postscript.


The house show was a smash too: Kin Ship became all the new halloween costume ideas for October even the day after, Beef Oven - plus Boo Hags ( ! ) - ran the home room deep bones lurch by loud boxes connected to their connector limbs, and The JAG got its way denim knight python bangs.


Next reading(s) around town:

4/25 - Tonight, crap, tonight, Lisa Dordal at Scarritt Bennett Center at 7

5/4 - Black History House at The Downtown Library

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Yo La Tengo / 'p i d e r e r s rising

Oye, the planet the sun is spreading lines, we can show our jaws against all the rest of our bodies again, having no conversation, monologue atop which Yo La Tengo will be laid.


Farce, a James Joyce has quick litters he told his brother: 

August 26, 1928


Hired a new secretary named Beckett. Writes letters for me. I read 
them and I have no idea what he’s talking about. One to the 
phone company starts “The bill. The bill. The bill. I can’t talk 
about the bill.” What the hell does that mean? It means I am in 



And lo, our eyes doth not deceive thou: 'pider 1 poet Chris Hosea has won the Walt Whitman poetry prize ( 5,000 cash, plus street cred to bark like dmx if he wants ):

Also, Beef Oven, smashy spit gravel party they are, did double show last week, at Dino's, bless their souls, then Mercy Lounge to nightcap ( I got a large hunk of the shell of an orange lodged under my middle finger nail which oozed vitamins into me, curse ). 

The Beefs and John Carpenter, plus mystery 3rd band, are playing The Caldwell House houseshow on the 21st, come out and have a garden party with us springtime radishes ( and if you have a bad-mitten court to set up, bring it ).