flux cause toute chose

dans le silence de pseudo-silence

collage and entrance image ex

orbit drifting all from light ha

m mers cluster around the

mouth dans un dernier mur

mure cut through the s

lick leaf c loud floaters sn ore a

bove your drill pipe your eye fog

swirls and scrawls son ombre

une nuit de paper concrete in

terruption in the rushing shadows

where the binding burns a

stream acré canal des miasmes

d’oxygène opposing anti-

social anatula eats the mass

of hair rattling neoliberalism

- bloated corpses’ slow dis

integration before the beach -

silence vide nue ici vide si

lence arises in the liquid

work’s eruption of the ladder

clouds of heads potatoes bo

bbing toward the ships

turn in drowning sun u

ne heure avant the flail

ing de toutes ses dents

la voix qui dit vis seas

hushed far from out the

fever edited flies budget

envelope in language of

asterisks and parentheses

an itching in the ears *)***(*

*)**(*(*** ne sais comment

les vieux arrêtes writing un

derwater archaeological dis

integration pas à pas nulle

part nulle part ni trêve à

rien the stroll collapses the

gravel glitters in the sun

the same stone becomes

its own distance

John M. Bennett channels four voices: Samuel

Beckett, “Mirlitonnades”, ca. 1977;  Jim Leftwich,

Six Months Aint No Sentence, Book 97, 2014;

Ivan Argüelles, “ilion, omikron”, 2014;

& John M. Bennett, Dec. 31, 2014.

L on earth

raincoat’s no good

swell shuts the f

og calen dar me focos d

ame papel sanit ario que

no me veo el ano anular

)La () Luna () de () L()entes()

la nada sees     ,,,,,or

seas rising toward the peak

turn the page

chopping and farting

next the Lake

which never was

a thorn shines

a night inhaled

a splinter signs

in leg’s fold

Ľ

pound it down

doubt luster came

an tabled the sack

comp action L ight d

ribbled out yr L ibps y

r shiny shirt yr chair

skreeeks across the floor

“wax an dolt”

choke it

LLunchy test ah

cable scrawled a

round yr neck a

silence phone c

rackling in yr cheek’s

just chips ‘n dip jus

t graveL swallowed

…..air

Et le lynx etoile…

- Olchar E. Lindsann

ok inhale the fumes

cornered leaf yr ha

tted ham s hivers at

the wind yr eye a   T

ree ah dog’s smoke

twitches in the let

tuce bowl !!  the

long skull table pul

ses in its light   …where

yr hand…

  

…diesel salad…

-Ben Bennett

​ 

ever cooled the mirror?

age ham the

haft er doom

blown leaf your

farting ,daboff

,hamster vom

its in yr sandwich

looka here a ff

umbled ape face

with mustard sh

                                         ines​

answer the phone

last 3 heads n

or left en g

ash ulencia m

aterial de ma

ttter whwh at

they ssaid  .or

nneck reggushed

or ,porcine sh

shadows in the

grass

​ 

runrun

doubted cloud

gaga

soline

the misted tires

whistler in the basement 

rumbler ,neck

ampersand

washes in the shadows

a weak pair of shirts

turning in the wind

knock on wood ,yr

twisted fork yr mou

th an sp linters yr

annual tea party in a

bathtub full of carp our

butts are raw kats framed 

by a glass bottom mirror

 

John M. Bennett & C. Mehrl Bennett

evacuar la panofobia

en el lunfardo neurológico where

the mountains played a part a

part of the sleepish book tri

cyclic teeth with a pillow

in my eye where gaterio quiere

decir cagarse en los colchones

stiff with polyphonic dirt and a

listing mind of gates bang

ing in the wind’s cuadro

phonic invoice saunters sin

ninguna modificación histológica

neither illegitimate syntax nor

melted stone placed at the

entrance of your historical

limits the lim its of your burning

pages ¡Cagarse!!! laboratorio que

cada uno lleva abajo in the

lilt fire’s deceptual in di gestion

)address of limits where something

white forms around the flittered

mouth(  what c age c latters in the

neigh borhood what thin rope

of sal iva del hombre con guarda

polvo blanco del comité or snake

lapping blackness toward the con

tour window’s isolation in the other

saus age world where dried mus

tard’s crackling on the walls a

center piece for hours the smoke

de bajo del chaleco an eternal

si lence

With waters and fog from Ivan Argüelles’

“ilion, lamda”, 2014; Jim Leftwich’s Six

Months Aint No Sentence, Book 95, 2014;

Omar Viñole’s El Hombre que se Depiló la

Ingle, 1900; and John M. Bennett’s flittering brain.

the slathered fist talks

pill blood pill blood pill

blood pill blood pill blood

pill blood pill blood pill

blood pill blood pill blood

pill blood  ..S.A.N.D.. blood pill

blood pill blood pill blood

pill blood pill blood pill

blood pill blood pill blood

pill blood pill blood pill

gritty window

a gatas por el comedor

un em budo sa

bor de hie lo

misismo da

do en gas

tado en la

bboca

don’t drink no coffee

sneeze h ay

er metido me

ar az úcar

ppeggajjoso

eyen my chee

k

​

 

you clean it up

t ouch the comb n

ex t hair’s cloudy

sky yr after-storm re

lented ,relentless b

ook dripping off the ch

air’s damp sea t I

said I said I said yr

)glow ered f og(   )in

in hails( (  (   (    (     (      (

​

​

 

jumped the fence

the su ited for

k ask et ym

ology of rab

bi ts k tis

tis sha pe

less ‘tis sh

apeless wall

owing in the

s ilky f ire

o rased the me

at mea  T

​

the sleeper’s ear

(root claw) telling ex

perience heaps fixed to

clouds y ese olvido t alks

that social (root cloud) me

diocrity grieves aloud the

clothes que no se ven ah

glass sidewalk reckless un

der the daggers entre la en

ajenación circling sleep rh

etoric from such spurned d

epths (root hair) de lo inper

ceptible flaming trashcans pro

test mil itarized gas oppression’s

mind film white is it a loft?  a

bismándose en el aire?  bro

ckcken lection ,shooting , man

nered eternity hacia un secreto

de pie armed domes tication ,s

idewalk “circling” in an inch of

rust (root shoe) en el vacío del

jacarandá whole cess wor ds di

rect the loam mound de una mel

ancolía mirrored flames spun the

math’s blank sp here desde la me

moria de la nada ref lex loca tions

fl ashing as bestos (root gun) be

tween the lines el mi smo anhelo

sube y sube t urned violence in t

he housing proj ection failed on

the r iver ban k (root ceiling) ,es

e silencio sin tiempo ,riots ,tel

evision uccess lifestyle’s aban

doned s laughter about the hea

vy worm y lo imposible de las

voces designed with indi fference’s

average written passion ,darkened

(root hole) en la más

cara ,consumptive medidas you

forgot to mail ,the veil media

falling apart plum meting like b

lack salt o una ceniza de pedrerías

the letter written spectacle

que solemos perder en el

río que no inmuniza

Made with parts from Jim Leftwich,

Six Months Aint No Sentence, Book 94, 2014;

Ivan Argüelles, “ilion , beta”, 2014; and

Juan L. Ortiz, La orilla que se abisma, 1970.

Tom Cassidy & John M. Bennett

ester

)yr head leaks(  tape re

traction ,claw sense ,blun

t light at the end of yr

foot

tous led s nor e ,a w rap

​ 

in dent

un less the do or un

less on sky w all

yr foster foot yr

up the h air

                                         con slab ulation​

take a seat

leave the shorn be

hind the leaf place

his mouth like rag

ing wall the end’s

emetic ,boiler than

the home contraption

wore his outer sh

adow ,nnod ,ggate

,degraded shale his

foot repels and

spelling of his finger

the swelling of his f

inger’s dog across

the floor a crum

bled tooth a sh

rinking cat a ch

airleg splintered

off its corpse

the silvery threads

(leg fog) distracted skull ea

ch even the midst not

tattered the quarry’s book

,scant and serious as if ,the

title-page im pulse ggaggging

down the scattered throat th

reads your spilled pages  )fog

meal(  before the court of

names ,forgotten shade

floated in the library’s

shredded breath older

than the wind older than

the sleep desk’s facts

in your pocket jammed

(fog mouth) sharp del

irious flowers ,face ,sh

eets ,esophagus danced

beneath the pinched fog

cus of yr water written

,writhen bleached miasma

clouds the tongue’s  )fog lens(

half face gleams ,sl

iced with b lack

With shreds of paper from Olchar E. Lindsann’s

excision-poem from his tale, The Bibliophage