Wednesday, August 29, 2018

Rupert M. Loydell, Posthuman Landscape #1 - #6

Posthuman Landscape #1, Rupert M. Loydell 

Posthuman Landscape #2, Rupert M. Loydell 

Posthuman Landscape #3, Rupert M. Loydell 

Posthuman Landscape #4, Rupert M. Loydell

Posthuman Landscape #5, Rupert M. Loydell

Posthuman Landscape #6, Rupert M. Loydell

Sunday, August 12, 2018

Sacha Archer, excerpts from The Nature of Language

The Nature of Language - Leaf #2

excerpts from The Nature of Language 

Reading through journal entries composed in reflection on this project, The Nature of Language, I remember (how quickly I forget) what a wealth of ideas opened up to me with this work. But this is not the place for a lengthy meandering through those scattered ideas. The whole point of visual poetry, just like a traditional poem, is that the poem is presented to be read. Of course, it is a joy to reflect, to give further insight, to explain—after all, we desire it. I will say that with these poems (only poems because we have become sufficiently disconnected to apprehend them as such—or because they have always been poems) I was and am interested in an idea of language form, a precursory shadow of language, embedded in natural forms. God/s did not give us language, but we are never so original as to be able to claim anything without influence. In the beginning was the word. No, I don’t think so. In the beginning (our beginning) was desire and need, and the world around us which we learned, no doubt very swiftly, to read. We read the signs of health, of poison, of danger and safety. It seems that form is an expression of language—once it is read. So, in what context do we find ourselves where we read the poems which I present here?

—Sacha Archer

The Nature of Language - Birch Bark #6

The Nature of Language - Mushrooms #2

The Nature of Language - Stalk and Pod #4

The Nature of Language - Stalk and Roots #3

The Nature of Language - Stick and Growth #4

The Nature of Language - Wood #3

Friday, August 10, 2018

Serena Mayer, The Lost Sonnets

Iconoclasm, image by Irene Koronas

The Lost Sonnets


   so as to avoid being caught up
      He had met the writer
 and this is the name by which
   here he thought the sound
not permit him to entertain
    unable to leave the country
  a buried cache of nature
    which to conjure and juggle
 yanked the curtain of hair
   who knew him best.
     sensible provisions
when such events
   permission to seek treatment
        . He is not unreasonable


   of spiral shapes
and plays his hand.
   oblivion, dreaming,
     , between the fields,
  her process of working
    critical acclaim
  and the speed
      and duration
  kept in his apartment
    failed to deliver
 permanent works
        won’t stay forever
   from the beginning


   made something positive out of
chaotic gestural traces
      need is not more.
   people about whether or not
      that was more difficult
 but not as he had imagined.
       considered failures
    distant prospect of the original
            type of work.
      remnants was influenced
         , or even liquid.
       It has become her,
   for the first time it was quiet
 I’ve seen the work myself.


    you to desist.
engaged in any mischief
        a correct count
  partial records
    had made a name for
        after I was sent here
 would return to
       the broader tragedies
     pushed back down
        bound and sold
  a site of uncontrolled
        that will one day reach
     other visionaries will
 , and at every stage write you


         to the next story,
             as not there
  among the secret community
       unsettled areas.
    and spectacular fossils
  systematic disintegration
     is nothing left of either
   history, manifested
       free movement of finance
         unreason ever more rapidly
had some money in her hand
        enquiries were made
 a continuous voiceover
   shimmering with mirages.


     in opposition to the restraint
        focus on the mechanisms
  staging spectacles which
   have been working at speed
      have been deemed unfit
         erasing the whole thing
  dangers of antagonising
       personal freedoms became
underscore the importance
    rather than its subject matter
  It is necessary to work
             to understand that
      hidden or dispose of
  and exhibiting while working


    and reverent in treatment
      slowly under the weight
  another's particular history
        within the shouting
     the night time walk.
  time to gain the approval
    an old man by now
       the path marked by
  mislaid or discarded
pasted over immediately
     impose their beliefs
   damage, destroying both
the gradual erosion of
  , nothing remained after

—Serena Mayer

Serena Mayer studied anthropology and social geography, and is interested in hidden texts and forgotten or discarded language. Her writing has previously appeared in Nutshell, Electric Zone, Here to Stay, I Am Not A Silent Poet, X-Peri, Amethyst Review, Odd Moments, Reflections,
A Restricted View From Under the Hedge, Poetry WTF, Storm Warning, and International Times. Her first book, Theoretical Complexities, is forthcoming from Broken Sleep Books.