A small sampling from

The Barnhart Brothers & Spindler Type Catalog of 1925.



Foundry poetry @ its best.

Suzi Gablik went to Black Mountain

Did you know that?

What a place and time!

Gablik mentions here: http://virgilspeaks.blogspot.com/2009/02/black-mountain-college-revisited.html

that Michael Rumaker has written a memoir of his time there.

(I didn't know Rumaker went to Black Mountain.)

I learned this from following a Silliman drone-bot poetic list

There should be armies of poets following Silliman's links

&

I suppose there are.

*

The Harmony of the Squares

Cubes of silence

*

bales of air

*

"Consciousness is a property of minute patches on the warm surfaces of mild planets."
(P. W. Atkins)

*

buckets of music

rain of anvils

cans of laughter

butterflies forged in iron

*

"We must get rid of our superstitious valuation of texts and written poetry. Written poetry is worth reading once, and then should be destroyed."
(Artaud)

*

Here's a poem to read once and then forget. It is called:

THE DEFINITION OF SENTIENCE


a soul
is
"at home"
in
galactic
space


a soul
"feels"

alone

only

in a body

*

CABLES TO THE ACE

OR: FAMILIAR LITURGIES OF MISUNDERSTANDING

Such is the title of a book of poems I'm reading by Thomas Merton from 1967.
(This picture means nothing in relation to the book
but then
what
does anything mean in relation to anything else:)


"3
Decoding the looks of opposites. Writing down their silences. Words replaced by moods. Actions punctuated by the hard fall of imperatives. More and more smoke. Since language has become a medium in which we are totally immersed, there is no longer any need to say anything. The saying says itself all around us. No one need attend. Listening is obsolete. So is silence. Each one travels alone in a small blue capsule of indignation. (Some of the better informed have declared war on language.)"



Thomas Merton: prophet of the internet? "Listening is obsolete."

The language of this "poetry" is totally contemporary:

The title poem begins:

"Edifying cables can be made musical if played and sung by full-armed societies doomed to an electric war. A heavy imperturbable beat. No indication where to stop. No messages to decode. Cables are never causes. Noises are never values. With the unending vroom vroom vroom of the guitars we will all learn a new kind of obstinacy, together with massive lessons of irony and refusal. We assist once again at the marriage of heaven and hell."

Well, perhaps not "totally" contemporary.

Who sends "cables" any more?

But then XX years from now we will ask, "What's an email?"

However, we will still be washing and drying our hands; or will we?

Not Everything We Do

Is full of color

this recent house we workd on--

call it

the "winter palace"--

is pale, dessicated--

and yet

. .. . . .. .. . .. . . .

You Asked For It

More fake art
from the real world


Actual paint tray residues
posing as abstract paintings


Rigorously random effects
created under carefully controlled circumstances