"She’ll always be illiterate, since she can’t read the letters of the alphabet, but now she can read one character and knows that the alphabet isn’t the only system of writing in the world," from Yoko Tawada’s Where Europe Begins (Translated by Susan Bernofsky and Yumi Selden)

"REAGAN says RONALD REAGAN a healthier, handsomer hair / in Jeris’ name, we pray: SHAMPOO WHIP! SO ECONOMICAL!"Photo credit: Joyelle McSweeney

"REAGAN says RONALD REAGAN a healthier, handsomer hair / in Jeris’ name, we pray: SHAMPOO WHIP! SO ECONOMICAL!"

Photo credit: Joyelle McSweeney

Trailer I made for Kim Hyesoon’s SORROWTOOTHPASTE MIRRORCREAM—a collection of poems translated by Don Mee Choi.

(Now available from Action Books)

“PQRS is a mess of genre, mixed media, and script; it is both part poem and part critical essay. In his notes, Patrick Durgin explicitly states that sections of this piece were taken from his other works, lifted wholesale and placed after the speaking colon. This is a kind of conceptualism: take the genre and fill it until it exceeds its own boundaries and becomes something else, or something several. 
What does it mean when our work is easily archived, searched, collated, cut apart, pasted back together, quantified, shared, compressed, leaked, and otherwise shifted from one place to another? Its materiality is questioned, since material things aren’t supposed to be that mutable, although maybe that’s naive. Still, what does it mean when our genres are wholly pierced through and bled out? According to PQRS, it means nothing. Or, it means only possibility. In this demi-play, Durgin uses the form of a play’s speaking action to build deep trenches between what is being said, who is doing the speaking, and the origin of those words.”[Click] to read Drew’s full article via Fanzine

PQRS is a mess of genre, mixed media, and script; it is both part poem and part critical essay. In his notes, Patrick Durgin explicitly states that sections of this piece were taken from his other works, lifted wholesale and placed after the speaking colon. This is a kind of conceptualism: take the genre and fill it until it exceeds its own boundaries and becomes something else, or something several.

What does it mean when our work is easily archived, searched, collated, cut apart, pasted back together, quantified, shared, compressed, leaked, and otherwise shifted from one place to another? Its materiality is questioned, since material things aren’t supposed to be that mutable, although maybe that’s naive. Still, what does it mean when our genres are wholly pierced through and bled out? According to PQRS, it means nothing. Or, it means only possibility. In this demi-play, Durgin uses the form of a play’s speaking action to build deep trenches between what is being said, who is doing the speaking, and the origin of those words.”

[Click] to read Drew’s full article via Fanzine

you’re invited. cosmic wolves and poems. and prose.

you’re invited. cosmic wolves and poems. and prose.

"Nobody should need to know whether a poem is important or permanent before allowing him or herself to get renovated by it."[Click] to read the full article

"Nobody should need to know whether a poem is important or permanent before allowing him or herself to get renovated by it."

[Click] to read the full article

Some footage of Ben Fama reading from Cool Memories in Seattle.

"One morning I woke up in the midst of troubled dreams that would not settle, and found myself in the midst of more midst and more troubled dreaminess, into the turbulent verminousness mid-morning of adolescence, well-documented in the Gus Van Sant film, Elephant. Late to school, but alert to World Lit Class, I was handed very few texts that would unsettle me further. But one such drug for unsettlement was The Metamorphosis. 
If The Metamorphosis hits you when you are vulnerable, it lodges like an apple in your dubious carapace, and stays there to shed its rotty apple-effects indefinitely afterward. The Metamorphosis is so massively culturally dispersed that it almost feels like an epic shape you can move inside of, despite its extreme brevity. Or, to re-read it is to move inside a kind of funhouse, with new and familiar (=uncanny) apparitions arising every time (and perhaps you are the wraith haunting The Metamorphosis). Or, when you re-read The Metamorphosis, it becomes a shifting topo-map, the text presenting new clefts and declivities, welling with intensities and sinking away into a diminishment one might choose to view as repose.” -Joyelle McSweeney via Fanzine[Click] to continue reading

"One morning I woke up in the midst of troubled dreams that would not settle, and found myself in the midst of more midst and more troubled dreaminess, into the turbulent verminousness mid-morning of adolescence, well-documented in the Gus Van Sant film, Elephant. Late to school, but alert to World Lit Class, I was handed very few texts that would unsettle me further. But one such drug for unsettlement was The Metamorphosis.

If The Metamorphosis hits you when you are vulnerable, it lodges like an apple in your dubious carapace, and stays there to shed its rotty apple-effects indefinitely afterward. The Metamorphosis is so massively culturally dispersed that it almost feels like an epic shape you can move inside of, despite its extreme brevity. Or, to re-read it is to move inside a kind of funhouse, with new and familiar (=uncanny) apparitions arising every time (and perhaps you are the wraith haunting The Metamorphosis). Or, when you re-read The Metamorphosis, it becomes a shifting topo-map, the text presenting new clefts and declivities, welling with intensities and sinking away into a diminishment one might choose to view as repose.”

-Joyelle McSweeney via Fanzine

[Click] to continue reading

Head over to Fanzine for my thoughts on Coconut’s 2014 catalog and three of their more recent titles: Ji yoon Lee’s Foreigner’s Folly: A Tale of Attempted Project, Steven Karl’s Dork Swagger, and Shelly Taylor’s Lions, Remonstrance.

Head over to Fanzine for my thoughts on Coconut’s 2014 catalog and three of their more recent titles: Ji yoon Lee’s Foreigner’s Folly: A Tale of Attempted Project, Steven Karl’s Dork Swagger, and Shelly Taylor’s Lions, Remonstrance.

this is me at the Similar Peaks Poetry and Press reading in Seattle. i’m reading from a manuscript called ONE HUNDRED ACRES, a reimagining of A.A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh stories…

"I haven’t felt this guilty about picking up a book since Urs Allemann’s Babyfucker… Rauan Klassnik’s Sky Rat is the funniest, most disturbing book I’ve read this year—and that’s just page 24!!! Sky Rat will rabble-rouse its way into your chest and stay there like Catholic guilt. I knew there was no turning back after reading ‘Ron Silliman approaches me in a bar,’ and let me tell you, the rest is—literally—history, or whatever sounds like ‘knives being sharpened.’ I’m not going to spoil the fun by revealing the other writers mentioned in Rauan’s personal theater of cruelty, but I promise you that Sky Rat disperses and violently strikethroughs itself beyond the possibility of resembling any other book you’ve read before. ‘Skulls adorned with butterflies. And horses in their death throes (a kind of puberty). And sex parades, through the battlefield, like an Angel of Death. No timid House-Mouse now!’ Like it rough? Like it really, really rough? Good news: Sky Rat is BDSM, TMI, and NSFW!”

"I haven’t felt this guilty about picking up a book since Urs Allemann’s Babyfucker… Rauan Klassnik’s Sky Rat is the funniest, most disturbing book I’ve read this year—and that’s just page 24!!! Sky Rat will rabble-rouse its way into your chest and stay there like Catholic guilt. I knew there was no turning back after reading ‘Ron Silliman approaches me in a bar,’ and let me tell you, the rest is—literally—history, or whatever sounds like ‘knives being sharpened.’ I’m not going to spoil the fun by revealing the other writers mentioned in Rauan’s personal theater of cruelty, but I promise you that Sky Rat disperses and violently strikethroughs itself beyond the possibility of resembling any other book you’ve read before. ‘Skulls adorned with butterflies. And horses in their death throes (a kind of puberty). And sex parades, through the battlefield, like an Angel of Death. No timid House-Mouse now!’ Like it rough? Like it really, really rough? Good news: Sky Rat is BDSM, TMI, and NSFW!”

Damn, can’t believe I’ll be holding this in four days. Also, you should come to the release party. I’ll be reading poems from my manuscript, One Hundred Acres:
LIT AWP SEA 2014
LIT #25 Reading + LaunchIn glorious cooperative geekery
Thursday, February 27, 2014
6:30 pmOffice Nomads 1617 Boylston Ave. Seattle, WA 98122
BYOB

Damn, can’t believe I’ll be holding this in four days. Also, you should come to the release party. I’ll be reading poems from my manuscript, One Hundred Acres:

LIT AWP SEA 2014
LIT #25 Reading + Launch
In glorious cooperative geekery
Thursday, February 27, 2014
6:30 pm
Office Nomads
1617 Boylston Ave.
Seattle, WA 98122
BYOB



Joyelle McSweeney asks, "Are we in the end times or are we being challenged to evolve? Can we evolve from here or are we petrified? Hooray, we tell ourselves, on the internet there are no more borders — and yet we know it’s not really true. Not everyone has the same internet, and not for long."A must read.

Joyelle McSweeney asks, "Are we in the end times or are we being challenged to evolve? Can we evolve from here or are we petrified? Hooray, we tell ourselves, on the internet there are no more borders — and yet we know it’s not really true. Not everyone has the same internet, and not for long."

A must read.