Wednesday, December 31, 2014

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.

Sunday, December 28, 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


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

Et le lynx etoile…
- Olchar E. Lindsann

Thursday, December 25, 2014

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

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



doubted cloud

the misted tires

Saturday, December 20, 2014

whistler in the basement 

rumbler ,neck
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.

Friday, December 19, 2014

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

don’t drink no coffee

sneeze h ay
er metido me
ar az úcar
eyen my chee


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

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

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.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Tom Cassidy & John M. Bennett


)yr head leaks(  tape re
traction ,claw sense ,blun
t light at the end of yr

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