Tomorrow is my birthday. If anyone is in the meatpacking district and wants to eat hella pizza and drink reasonably priced cocktails HMU. Please share this and let everyone know what a terrible poet I am. You can be anything you want.
Caskets is a 16-page zine about appropriation, hotdogs, death, America, war, gargantuan planes and microscopic birds. Please download, share, and distribute illegally in libraries, museums, squat houses and corporate gyms. Thank you, as always, for reading. More at wikipoem.org.
Come to the table, eat. Build the kitchen, cook. Walk into the forest, sleep peace. Community is you. SUBMIT
You cannot just say it. You must stuff it — desired wanted loved — into the culture. SUBMIT
Put pen to paper for revolution. Not their revolution; you’re revolution. Slick little bombs cartoon bombs like clouds. SUBMIT
I’m recruiting artists — poets, photographers, painters, programmers, essayists, cave scribblers, demolitionists, brewers, bachelors, single cell biologists, graphic designers, ladies and lizards — for a new project. SUBMIT
Send anything. Send anything. Send anything. SUBMIT
This is a transmission of love and warming and nourishing. Full-color pamphlets, subversive seeds, planted in the dirt of culture, fertilized by a community’s money-ash. Maximize attention through biological imperative — love, love love!
Ask if you have questions, but send me your art: joe.gerace@gmail.com
Submissions for Printing One close on June 27.
Twenty-five copies will be mailed to anyone published in WANE.
Please share this and help me get the word out. Thank you.
“They split the darkness / With their bare chests / They smell out their loves / Through the thick dew!” Okot p’Bitek
the grinding stone will be or had been
not much depends upon chrysoprase
i sense upon and then i am aware
there’s no time left
kennedy and oswald too
who are kennedy is oswald dead
who are you yourself considered
one inhabits a song or has tried
not much depends upon tense
if one inhabits a good song
a strong expensive song cooked
by a corporation or a factory (have been its gear)
i am no time
leap of perspective
the fish you fear and had tried to be
not much depends upon becoming or having tried
not much depends
invent the reader
before greedy cologne
taste tongue shell
i sense upon passion
i sense upon assassin
i fucked hamburgers
and i swear it sustenance came naturally
the thing glimmers
i swear it said my co-workers
were like a priceless song
when a poet can only push so far against the factory
of theory i eat my own said my co-workers
assassin the readers before cologne
a confused theory of hungry love
smell taste tongue i sense upon an onion they
sense upon far away grinding stone destroyer of newstype
i sense upon an assistant at the factory eating the falls
i sense upon the grinding stone and the gutter
the world no doubt
hands breadth its own
painful shelley
and you?
did you once see shelley plain
and did you pick up on the rest
move and never moor
with a name of its own and memory too
i started at my quaking feathers
and pick upon memory
so many blank miles
without a name of their own
did you once sense upon the new laughter?
“You don’t need a story. The question is How long do you not need a story?” David Shields
trip to me enormous plain country and fresh hewn political mistakes the expat freshly hung perceives literacy the expert mistakes the recluse for submission interlocking memories poppies' capital the recluse submits to christmas lights not man emergency radio transmission the christmas lights return to simple flame he lands back in seclusion he beats the expert with a freshly hewn political mistake the recluse who survives his owner's engine vapor days like lightning through the enormous plain's country not many political witnesses perceived literacy deranged owner of engine failure all in a day's enormous plain good country mistakes among poppy red capital christmas lights back on man-ends of flames of beats an emergency radio transmission the gun-toting argument broadcasts its perception recluse deception shame among poppies submission poppies an expert freshly hanged from perceived literacy ambition and witness perception like christmas lights on a boring white wall not much poppies beat against the flag pole like political mistakes his first trip to the river's