The continuum of sound can't be
out of place. Form foams old man
foamer, the beauty of airports,
what do poets know of capital anyway?
Tarry by the slack pile until it has
the quality of truth, a place with
no single word rises around us. It's
a novel about cities in wartime.
Freedom imitates tyranny, thief liquor
rugby spleen. All my inventing is
a complete disaster. More room for
necks and another chest. Now here
is the cut-out lake. Writing about
others as if they were nature. Each
word is cheapened in the air. Dewey
eyed playback to where the I goes.
Roughnecks have received insufficient
attention. The world is full and doesn't
ask for more. I waddled and took myself
out walking. A bulbous token of sex and
crafstmanship. She knew something of
the ethics of memory. Bad vibe job market
in good vibe media surround. Me on my
head, that is my body. Trajectory
itself another seminal structure.
[Lines (mis)overheard at the MLA Poetry Extravaganza Part I, Wednesday December 28, Four Seasons Hotel, Washington DC -- from poems by Joel Bettridge, Louis Cabri, Joshua Clover, Michael Cross, Brent Cunningham, Richard Deming, Jeff Derksen, Patrick Durgin, Bill Howe, Nancy Kuhl, Aaron Kunin, Nicole Markotic, Camille Martin, Laura Moriarty, Lorenzo Thomas, Al Nielsen, Bob Perelman, Joan Retallack, Linda Russo, Jennifer Scappetone, Susan Schultz, Rodrigo Toscano, Shanxing Wang, & Tyrone Williams.]
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