Steve Dalachinsky
Poet/collagist Steve Dalachinsky was born in Brooklyn after the last big war and has managed to survive lots of little wars. His book The Final Nite (Ugly Duckling Presse) won the PEN Oakland National Book Award. His most recent books are Fools Gold (2014 feral press), a superintendent's eyes (revised and expanded 2013 - unbearable/ autonomedia), flying home, a collaboration with German visual artist Sig Bang Schmidt (Paris Lit Up Press 2015), The Invisible Ray, with artwork by Shalom Neuman, from Overpass Press, "5-COLOR ASSORTMENT" Chameleon Too from Redfox Press, and FROZEN HEATWAVE with Yuko Otomo, from Luna Bisonte Prods. His latest cd is The Fallout of Dreams with Dave Liebman and Richie Beirach (Roguart 2014). His poem “Particle Fever” was nominated for a 2015 Pushcart Prize.
previous page     contents     next page
visage do(o)rma(n)t 1:12 bit green crowd red bit crowd 9:10 passing into 8:5-0 rowing beyond roof you are bit win el armie yufself it is screaming this tempt of pointed light toned-down tragedy to expand the boundaries yet keep the story short to confine the boundaries yet tell an expansive tale to be confined w/in the boundaries of the story & tell us nothing new i repeat bit the apple he gave her reversal is technique it can appear to float tho it is sinking we look so much alike why bother to remember if we try too hard memory will turn to relic relic to mud mud to myth i/deal it can appear to sink while it is floating buoyed by memory fueled by myth weighted by relic buried by mud sand turned pen in sula homecoming gone flower of birth the same man we are it can appear to float while sinking shiny lights outside the window blackboard revealing insides outside the window strings of the oud relic //// myth ///// memory a sinking feeling that makes one float (un) familiar melodies a round stick (tree) where the ancestors hang the mingling of blood the mingling of blood dark spot of possibilities / where the ancestors hang tonight the moon hangs over you like a lost lamb / 10-10 has passed 9:50 Legend is not as it seems blood mingles I become Everything uncharted territory road to ruin the same face on different sides the same body the dead man’s float in a flash flood reducing my system to sewage to memory to relic to mud to myth legend becomes voyage a voyage that takes so long nyc 12/4/04 lotus nuband/workman angelopolis/godard A ROUND 1. could one have ever imagined what ROUND would become how what was just circumstance became significance could one have foreseen the importance of ROUND? head halo half circle pom-poms hookups O’s always Oh’s this circumference dissected usual adjacent ornaments how flat we actually believed things were how round they’ve become… when did they become? i ask myself that (as i look around) who drew the first circle? there are seven stations of the cross a tear in the fabric is round was it deliberate? a timeworn shroud could’ve been ornament once a marker now eaten away by religion’s hands are full there are invisible wounds within the fabric of all things at times these wounds are deep angular straight curved ROUND incomplete like this poem… she wants naught of me but to live & die in peace two things she will never have 2. (thru muhal richard abrams) said something about song sparrow like a bird sound singing songs both relevant & not fugues & other forms of music reduced thru glyphs i feel like a stranger an Interloper wherever i go said now one artist has a different way of crafting one’s art from another despite what the two have in common as intellectuals those that play along & those that play within & conversation continued… said that if i deny any part of myself i deny the truth said that rule: we’re gonna start you’re gonna hit so listen 3. activate transition @ any cost / bellicose penta up coastal gentric ice a dope-cration which if were pa list i clost stages of gyro i’m nonplussed aggravation ear / car said yud help a buddy fly but the papers down to the one more final line algae come & request blush you away here’s to ravish & time’s glow after toward univoice – box sleep feed sex & stinky poop & unheated / heeded red sauce puncture here’s to artificial inebriants lack & damning of concern! 4. (thru cecelia vicuna) disappearance of cloud possibilities hate beginnings threads that lead to nowhere drawing threads the emptiness between water & Self. after the bomb a young escapee remembering nothing forgetting nothing being nothing the consequence of everything as the horizon there is no need to find the TOP be it ROUND or flat writing the poem is never enough being the poem never enough living the poem is almost… not each other but each molecule consider & teach the thing how the world coming to an end can be a refuge intense powerful against the lover of books mice gnawing the pages rather than the tongue / thread / way TAO > transformation / removal of tissues shaman’s words women widowers obedience servants dead mentors umbilical dollars itself 2 ways ASYLUM. nyc 1/18 & 2/18
Poet/collagist Steve Dalachinsky was born in Brooklyn after the last big war and has managed to survive lots of little wars. His book The Final Nite (Ugly Duckling Presse) won the PEN Oakland National Book Award. His most recent books are Fools Gold (2014 feral press), a superintendent's eyes (revised and expanded 2013 - unbearable/ autonomedia), flying home, a collaboration with German visual artist Sig Bang Schmidt (Paris Lit Up Press 2015), The Invisible Ray, with artwork by Shalom Neuman, from Overpass Press, "5-COLOR ASSORTMENT" Chameleon Too from Redfox Press, and FROZEN HEATWAVE with Yuko Otomo, from Luna Bisonte Prods. His latest cd is The Fallout of Dreams with Dave Liebman and Richie Beirach (Roguart 2014). His poem “Particle Fever” was nominated for a 2015 Pushcart Prize.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home