Sunday, December 31, 2017

Sarah Cave, excerpts from An Arbitrary Line

Google Maps, Sorry, we could not calculate directions 
from Khodovarikha, Russia to Moscow, Russia

excerpts from An Arbitrary Line   

Matchstick World’s

hum, hm?

          the generator’s
hum soothes cowled ears.

Slava fiddles with matchsticks
recreating Hyperborea/Cornucopia

the stilted viewing platforms
the sock-muffled gramophone

filling the hut
with oscillations
of Pechoran sea and divine prophesy
the world – a sauna
                             birch wood strikes
against flesh
                            bathing in warmth
dry currents     desert parents crunch

flightless birds in their steaming swamps

eternal light // pin-prick night

cages but no chickens just cages
a warning in flight
Slava sleeps exposed on the dunes

it’s raining toads
and yoghurt pots                        (.)


Spiral bookcase              forming staircase
                   the tower’s ascent
                     mist damp cool
                  water on Slava’s skin
a finger caresses the dust
pages decay
                    Slava strikes a match
                              holds it to the shroud.

‘This lake could be
anywhere’           repeats Slava

changing tenses                          
these waters were once populated
                    isolated man

a heron                thumping

a driftwood ballad

speaking in long-lines

a rockpool elegy                      a one stone reprieve

leaving behind the tousled Nina

and the flustered Sunday afternoons
before attendance was compulsory

the conclusion
to faith holding hands with doubt

Slava watches the evening    and waits

for the yearly melt                   

as inevitable

as the changing of the skyline
                                                        in lakes, of lakes,
                                            vast open absence
by the lake/ in the lake/ of the lake                                        

glacial foundations mocked

Konstantin fights his corner
up to his shirt sleeves
in the rising                             / lake
Nina plays the riverbank chords

a xylophone minuet of lakes
lakes lakes near lakes eventual lakes
many lakes melting

—Sarah Cave

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Nico Vassilakis, excerpts from LINGUA INFORMATIN

Nico Vassilakis
Lingua #1

Lingua #3

Lingua #6

Lingua #9

Lingua #12

Monday, December 11, 2017

David Alpaugh, ENOUGH…ENUFF…

William of Ockham


IS Enough! As Myriads strut from their
files to be more, nice to hear 1 word say
F You! to Connotation. Moonbeam went
238,000 miles too far with less is more.
As for me, I’d sacrifice my potbelly for

Enough. I hope superlatives take heed &
simmer down (& pregnant Paroxytones,
like Comprehensive & EntrepreNEWer).
Trillionaires fear Ockham’s razor might
slash 3 or more zeroes off their FLUFF!


—David Alpaugh

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Charlie Onions, Six Poems

Babylon Kissed Out, image by Irene Koronas


Warts, false starts and synth lines
The fringe suits,
Like the DG he wants, needs, adores, pines,
For John Hughes,
Tight bedroom-devouz sourced from Itunes
Reviews, Gucci goody bags,
Good shoes, nice pens,
12 hens drawn up in a Chambord carriage,
No replay, Joe’s Garage quietens me
Back until I daren’t dream ‘bout marriage,
Or at lost boys in silk, watch that video
About milk in films,
More like films in milk ayy bab?
Lay back and learn their culture in the back of a taxi cab,
Second channel, man Sandy’s shining mad,
Roasted, Dubai stone,
Become by Mum and Dad, fuck life in tads, it’s half and drab.


Tube screwed, my Crest tastes like Slush Puppy,
Beat creature, hold fast shaft,
Think of eggs beaten, Bugs Runny,
Affect, take hugs then take money,
Heavy Canada, plush as my pillow,
Weighs a tonne, a,
Purge a half-decent Monday,
Fast harsh hard, lain on greased trays,
Ponder BO’s oldest daughter’s name,
Bet it’s wavy since she know who Joey B be,
Such a rogue, splattered
American home, ruptured pagination,
Hooped ring Dad I bought American
Vogue and the piano’s kicked so
I’ll have to leave in a mo,
At a dash,
In time hearts will bow.

N/A #2

Spelling things with eaux,
Time I’d like for that,
Figure out with crabs and a strat
What makes AOR such a blond-shade sex,
Does time jack off late ones out of
Favour for poor chore dodgers that really should
Know better but they do
Rue the day their dos got cancelled
And their dos got messed,
Play at me mook Saint Laurent,
Jab your feet on the ledge in case your fans attempt hanging on,
Dangling down, surging up right,
Calm it down with your fake dirty sprite,
The ones you leave behind will blind you right,
But do sit when your dead deaf and alone,
Cursing mountains, instead of Beetlejuice,
Sipping Axl, mimed Patron.

31/10/17 (Wake Up 31st)

More dreams,
More lava,
More life wedged amidst old friends,
Fucks, Riley dogs, daydreams amok,
With the remix at the edge of I,
Me, hips, you, end of the world,
Babylon kissed out,
Tripped a Charlie Brown by you,
So greet ’18 like ’12,
Rev up your twitch, christen your
Damian bastard, save yourself,
Wish back to sticky dial up
LOTR fiction picking up on Steven’s
Diction but stuff up with bik,
Because before you know it,
Xmas gets fucked by Richards, Kevins,
Tensions and dicks.

N/A #3

Tucked in in 5% evenings
Power in pussy being said
Fruit name and synth creeps past the
Chicken strung out and past the wings
Fuck did this rhyme with the last
Nevermind if not ‘cause the old tears
Are here
Sade smoothing over the potholes and past
Decadence in having a dry patch
No old-fashioned love like beauty spots
Or pubes in thatch
So why don’t you live for the
Same things that come formed?
Where’s this page gonna land
When degree’s daunts get chucked
Straight to the quicksand?
Back off too far then live through a backhand.

NA # 4

Commes Des Garçons Play
About around beneath vagina
Grasp that fuck fast don’t delay
Hum ‘round the mound bush crush
With eyeliner
Whisky works on teeth but doesn’t inform
Me my oh me on KMT
That’s a googleable offence
A fizzed up rather
The best rapper
Applaud me dense
‘Cause I fux with the vision
Lord wherever thou aren’t
Allow me and allow it to get
Dead set on a mission
For I love this shit
Dave Navarro’s in my Dads
And steady in my pit.

—Charlie Onions

Thursday, December 7, 2017

Rose Knapp, Four Poems

The Tristesse of Madame Tard, 
image by Daniel Y. Harris 

Weiss Coltrane

River Iran Eins
Zwei steps drei 

Fier to the fleur
Fury Breakbeat 

Skits slits scats 
Roses may melt 

With zero Zeno
Emotion motion 

Becomes invented 
Futurist lights flights

Far beyond post 
Modern iron curtain

Plotinus on Fire in Tiananmen Square 

Hebraic Aramaic aromatic
Concrète Words gardens
De Stijls Spirals Bauhaus 

Clarity cleanses crosses 
White with of sectarian 
Sects with consistency 

Bulldozes Bare Stearns
Historical archives say
Way Fay books may

Or may not burn as
Subconscious Memes
Memories Tories Eve

Architectonic Forms
Fall Faux Fallacious 
Light match Māori

Blok Smoke Tosses 
A Molotov within 
From two thousand 

Digital miles away 
Witches still incite
Terrorizes America

Proofs without validity 
Soundness need not 
Singularity Apotheosis 

Andro In Medas’ Wastes

Rain drips onto Angeles 
Los wings fleur through 
Truth Mars freezes lithe

Orange Lantern Danse Macabre

Chinatown does not dance crowds 
Krauts encircling eyes dart
In-between Masses of laughter part

Respectable leather part crimsoned
Silk roads leading beyond

—Rose Knapp

Tuesday, December 5, 2017


Dr. Duo Denalulcer, Perforated Intellectual,
image by Daniel Y. Harris  

for Harvey Hix

Defendants encoded performances of musical compositions on perforated rolls of paper that caused a quite rare, but life threatening, lecture on the history of anthropological thought. This did not apply to broadcasters, jukebox operators, or background music services.

He had a broad intellectual background and a deep interest in journalism; he spoke of metallic letterpress blocks on black surface, non-invasive positive-pressure ventilation, and the design and conception of study.

Keeping control of your assets brings a smile to the recipient as they tear open their duodenal ulcer. A common surgical emergency, but literature is is a useful tool, especially for patients with no intellectual disability.

Tell me a bit about your background. I am a vertical holder for paper toweling or other material, related to a water quality control device, and was modified after an assassination attempt in 1952 which stifled my intellectual meanderings.

A small increase in background noise provides a nonwoven web fabricated from joy and mechanical squares on the manuscript. It can be used as filler for a muffler cavity or introduced within amendments to the writing process.

A hearing loss or deafness has no bearing on a person’s intellectual capacity or the future. We are seeking an individual with a strong background in Finite Element analysis to deliver a completion string collapse. Wooden puzzle brains need not apply.

—Rupert M. Loydell

Monday, December 4, 2017

Matt Johnstone, From o n e

Untitled, image by Meagen Crawford 

From o n e

        VI: one

        One shakes /
        multiples / at
        whom is closer,

        before each other / included

        seizure /           on manifold,
        quantity /         of /

                                these vague
        over / trajectory
        a solution
        is chord,          where

                                one shakes / gone to quote
                                isolations / to
                    valves /

        XIII: one                   
        Eerie / the total
        that gets in
        or /
        “immensities happening
        outside one” /
        they feral array an opening thing,

        one got many / twins
        in half sleep

        drunk / polysemous / engulfed

        is of
        shallowing /


XXI: one

Ceiling, the recoil
of ceilings / one

            things ones


its flat angle, what
one is
ahead of
is description

more one like breathing voids

the “sense of one / remaining” unbroken

is its

testimony / thinned /

blurs more a concentration of
oppositions a thing
is too large when it goes /
forming oppositions

splits    deliberate
vibrating nearly dark

—Matt Johnstone

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Volodymyr Bilyk, Ar-Gu and Morose Delectation



Twist Up
To Speak
To Walk, To Run
To Duck, To Dive

Pow Wow Now
Ha Ha
Six and Six Nine-Thirty
So-so flies had an uh-hmm
Just whisper
Oh- Blister splat
Oh No
Open E C F
Um, yellow... crack a smile

001 0898201179 1 1. 1. 
1 1-900924-64-1. 

U” “U U” “U” “U” ”. U
a A a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a 
U U U U U U U U U U U U U. U.

Action tse-tse
Yum Yuck
Clank - plop
Bo-Go-Bom bom poo

Pop Kiss
Finger Ear? Hair? Tar?
...– :53
--- – 2:30
Flip flop
In O"
Ah-Ah. Ah... 

Morose Delectation for Gary Barwin

Yes I’m Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnking
O.K. ”  , ???????????
Hop flop squawk
(yes, with an exclamation mark) 


Kind Hearted
Stop Breaking Down

Ba- Bo Ba-A
Ba- Bo Ba-A

44/4 (coma) 
42/4 (coma) ...moo-moo Bee

, uh.
re-bop-om da boo
it om... ‘o’.

Oh no,


Volodymyr Bilyk

Saturday, December 2, 2017

Michael Mc Aloran, 3 sketches from ’vapour tones’ (section II)…

Untitled, image by Michael Mc Aloran

3 sketches from ’vapour tones’ (section II)…

… = carving out the blind dredge of impetus = charred flesh & the bones still-birthed = diseased longing for the flight of once not taken = staccato breath in the rip of the tidal foreign as bespoken of of the silenteeism that braces upon = where breath is air a syllogism breaking forth from nothing of what matter to chase the secret the breaking of the which = as burning of throughout where a subtle scarab scarring the bereft pulse bulb where sickness only of ill-speech doth dwell abounding through the nucleus of shadowing cold chase = flames it says = sudden to expire through the gift-lack bile coming to the fore in blackened alleyways where the populace of the dogs of rot close their jaws around the carnival air = no hope = the absence of in the weight of bleeding solace colours acidic of speech devouring upon its own weight cold shadow = nothing is or of = the skyline is cracked across by the echoes of distaste of disasters in a melding of flesh only once from broken charades till once again following the shadow of oneself into room after roomscape of design debris of broken child’s toys and citrus taint in air breaking closure of fist shattered windows = until = sleeps graceless upon a discarded cunt-stained mattress the springs protruding = the bitter tremors come to fore of effortless shot white light and the eyes of blood = stone ache & the clarity of awakening in a kaleidoscope of (the) door slams shut = zero hours over and over again a picture postcard from nowhere left to be = zero hour & nothing more = yet eye perceives it does not perceive what matter if dusts upon subtle surface cold blight a discharge of breath a fixative a shot in the half-light of the sunlit = trace non-trace = to possess the violence that = possesses the violence that = in an interlude of speech rocking back & forth in the morning sun breaking from fear & fever wind it takes the skin from = dissolved tense spectral as of vapour tones exhale through the bloody nostrils as if to say that = rock-a-bye = snapshots colours fading into oxidate smoke furl of forgotten once what was throughout the hours of which cold stammer of all = strike a match = nothing of nor for the other than or of left behind in barbed wire exigency = nothing of the matter of nor of the drowned light’s carouse it-speak fades out into a whisper given to lack of the into in the lack of the in or of fallen out of throughout the nothing of in the birthing of the from the outset of given to unto having never till once more forgotten sudden as if to coloured by in lapse long absent forgotten the claimed by in the none non-speech listless desire where the breaking of it is the lack solace come to claim it never of what of in the devout cull of the dead lightless ever to return through nothing more than black stillness to dredge it reject all finally forgotten aching out where nothing of where there once were once haven till = …
… = an adagio of wings tracing their flesh through the viscous skies of unkempt desires = camera shift from black to nausea the skeletal slowly melts slowly away = carcass kisses of the dawn & the descent into haven horror of = till cannot = foreign as = trace of blood throughout where to burn is to know only of it = eye recalls it = viciously the torn shreds of nothing coating the naked body of the child that wilted gracelessly = here or then what of the sunlight’s emptiness = as the premise of disease was the laughter of innocence = cold tar & the skinned abrupt through the hyenic jaws where the bones warped in a sarcophagus of smiles revealed as if to having been the skinned fruit of dawn broke stillness recollecting nothing = it what wind what = barren the obscene silences that from the within come to collect the without = flesh to burn where nothing dredges the colours of bile the rotting shit in a latrine of discarded orchids = such was as it was = dreamt of = in recollect the flesh of present bitten through where seeking sought to find where electric excommunicated & condemned to silence = eye was long long peeling from the outset in realms of dissipating traces = vapour tones a mark of air & the meat of & the body broken = the razor sadness of some crescendo birthed = cut clear till drift it speaketh of the climb long dead where fathom splice collects the rubble & debris = vomiting scars till passage of some sickness tread of light’s lack & the burst lungs caverns of smoke emanating = it-dreams & a broken cherubim = extracting the teeth with a pliers a gut force-fed fragments of searing glass = extracts the fingers = blind nothing of the wisdom that once taught final as ever to avoidance = nothing as ever to remark upon = coal dust & the meat of air the between & the ever-foreseen = ever-blending into dark where obsolete comes to pass and silhouette claims nothing ever upon which the solar of it shines = rotting insects fill the cup of breath = warped limbs of the ghost flesh fulfill where null what deaf tones amber tones falling across the night = nothing but the air that is so breathlessly forgotten = till wastage = knocked bones from sixpence eyes the sealed fate & the waxen cadaverine eclipt = wave upon wave upon what of it it is said = what matter it retorts = roves the eye sealed shut = in = the body vocal broken = a crescendo of thunderous waste searing through where tense is blight & the open wounds some elixir given that the bleed ceases not = compels it is a lie it lies through the blackened echoes the bruised flesh of annihilation = the corpse-lit children s-m-i-l-e = it dredge of the spun light as if to say that it what matter of = as marks but one = terse = broken stone = collapses into thy dread where the purity of what will announces the given of = so sayeth without = having once of having ever said without ever = longing-lack = longing’s reclamation & the fading dawn…

...= zero echo attrition of devour = as if it once never yet once of the throughout verandas as if to trace a scar in skyline’s empty solace = broken dead yet once eye of colours claimed by silences permeating throughout where blood flows nowhere of into the devour unsaid = all locked to the bones of it a final flourish never of till opening out whereby what loss specious as devoid where open plains of null cut the blind stitch of not a = nothing ever-yet to of the other walls warping vapour tones & the breath of the bodily echoing in an excess of nullity that feeds the flames of nocturnal bled out from = it is of the stun remark the punctuation of loss final ash a collection of meat ever once through not of the lungs to ache where nothing embers of subtle distances = in a silhouette of blind of the membrane nothing of which to be dragging out the intent of to close the door to step out into where nothing abounds deathly shadow = the blood mocked by the night that will ever-stretch design echo-echo solace frozen from the commence of it as the skyline dissipates = till dense meat what of it in the glory of ever-distance the null of it the spasm ceremony the crescendo of blind spaces = hieroglyphic oxide the blind eye of devout through vapour tones the insight never dice rolled choking upon the ashen of which collapse subtle to fall unto = bleeding out as once was uttered in the nowhere of some distance to caress a slashed throat spilling its guts into whereof sweet sickly devour of it = kills without clemency as if to wish for ever-once cold spasm of desire & the reek of bones distances to lodge in the ashen vocal of it = nothing of the ever-till shearing laughter spilling into the void what once never of the till undone where once lay emptily a mirror shattered null & void = reeks of it till hearse will wind a breakage of silver artificial light & the mockery of tidal’s fluctuate given to drown expels into the dark what dark = subtle yet the eye the film peeled away passes from prism till prism elsewhere nothing said of it matters no not of a in the frenzy of it = closes the tomb of vocal sickened unto wretched the candle blown out sought yet ever offered the density of the rind as if to & the broken jaw the stain = not a trace of spurious metals & the pulse ever-bearing throughout it must it cannot vocalizing nullity for sustenance = till sing along = unsung in a pageantry of slaughter mocking the silent edge by tint of echo if in the design of what of which = yet nothing of it in the frozen nullity = bleak terse = abortive weight of spasm all colours undone = the hands crumple to dusts & the body rails in the defeat of plumage traceless veins through the vocal of it breathing non-breathe steps thrice into from which a-ever the door’s closure before the exit-signs of it =   lapsed into from out of which effortlessly eviscerated in the closure of the eye the image taint within a sickly reek of final viewed from traceless unbegotten = dragging the cadaver cloth across the foreign eye of it = …

—Michael Mc Aloran