Saturday, September 30, 2017


THE SWEATING LAKE by John M. Bennett
233 pp.  -  $19
ORDER FROM:
http://www.lulu.com/shop/john-m-bennett/the-sweating-lake/paperback/product-23351599.html
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“Poetry”in many experimental or avant modes and voices, and in a mix of languages, sounds, and visualities. John M. Bennett practices a true yet new trans-linguistic art, which is at the same time deeply embedded in language and its history as the primary context of the many layers of human consciousness.  "This is not poetry." -  Jack A. Withers Smote

the and

osteo mentation ,griminal
inmintation’s sugary shirt
it’s where yr “shshoe” ‘s
debrides a coin a coff a
cabalgata de intonsos de
los sin piel los inde
dictos carrying the tongues
in bloody pockets )your
wheezing collar((

napkins ,and a swallowed dirt



Thursday, September 28, 2017







narilonganiza
- for Aaron Flores & Geof Huth

Un cadavre de cendre
qui s'imbibe de sang
)Pierre Reverdy( el ayer me
espera con su voz de
moho con su ANT HEM
frames my shirt's song my
shirt's turning and tossing
in muddy wind trop
d'ombre renversée )P.R.(
VERSO VS OSREV y me
como la salchicha de mi brazo
DRINK YOUR LEG wrote l'encre
...résine sans coleur )P.R.( PIS
SIP your red stream con
traction arcs over the curb

the plate is g round the
face a storm the
forking screeches d
rawn across a knife


Je me suis évadé des lignes...
- Pierre Reverdy






ear

bhomb hamb
gumantic
blood and leg
numbonic
mouth nor voice







account

blister clime ,mort ar al
negck invades yr mute
numbers all of splat
tore it off the book
able sensed it m
umbling in a clos et cr
ime and voice intend at
least of further gasoline
before a match


corp orate grins ,and toil et brims






Sunday, September 24, 2017







wash up

issue itching ...muddy mouth
YOUR BOILING LEG a
floodsome bolus hocked
to the floor yr occulunit
tumboliente )distant greasy
dust( )I played the grunt
beside yr fork( misty
switching of your thighs
air left back
of ambient time or
drift habituation your
EGG EXPLODES an
uttered neck
troubles in the laundry







chains of time

brim flat cloud
user meat
rains the side
walk tale of
slaw and worms
tale of teeth

or silty wind









malade

mud and nuts / ah hammer
g ate a seaslug fog's
water FASTER THIN yr
y ear scrawls in ,la
semilla biologique j am
med deep in yr nose .un
tie the hose yr fork im
pales before a HINGE
sleeps beneath a ladder b
arcs and b arks ,fed
the fango en famille's E
GGS C RACKED in
yr shshorts ,w ashed at once


His nuts on his neck.

- Blaster Al Ackerman





Thursday, September 21, 2017








ojo de agua

strabismic in a sleeping alphabet
tus fosilturos )futosiles – Juan A. Italiano(
futilesco ablo en un floflofloespejojojo
lo que veo con el WAK y su cola
de dardo cloud-sampler )Ivan Argüelles(
I was sitting on the bed mumbled and
ssaw, my daughter holding a box of sand

….....




mucu

plumbid
your facial hole
a
a ccloud







vent de merde

shorn meats a strangled door
Grave des mots avec un clou
)Th. Gautier( ce n'est rien mais
quelque chose condensed rechewed
ébranlé sourdement ha dicho ,clos
et crammed with socks your
negck reblooded ,steaks on phone
dripping said yr NOM RAUQUE
spat screen un libro vacío o
blanco de escuchpitazos anhelados
where a dog wind swirls teething
the knob's “sit on a distant lake”
your statue burns on the shore
your statue splits its head your
statue drowns in its shoe ≈ ≈ ≈
hairless and birdshat FEUILLE
OUBLIÉE ¿de quién es la
cara que escribo? ¿de quién son las
ascuas que tomo con mi café espresso?

leaf or shirt wword or tturd







Thursday, September 14, 2017








the future shines

grinding ,every thin slug
smeared across yr fogged
lens' wet smoke ,embolism
shutting down the state or
time of breathless heaving
in the sprawling dark don't
look outside ,glands of
flame choking in your voice
its hushed its viscous de-ex
planation it's your plunger
trying to break the clog
.ccloggg ,a mind a noose
descendant corporation wh
ere the sky once shone


...reeping à travers the cereb, ante,
bellum in long columns vapor-filled...
- Olchar E. Lindsann










5 smoke

a wall severed by a hair
a shopping cart pissed in the teeth
a ladder wearing yesterday's pants
a vacuum on trial in the vomit
a statue face up in the ashtray


JMB after Ivan Argüelles after JMB







die t

shit and spin ,knob rel
axed yr voice halation
feast of sand yr spinal
shoulder hefts .no thing
lreft in here drink an
grin mind's yr fplace be
hind a reeking wall of

milk and turds



Monday, September 11, 2017











nariguante
      -con un abrazo para Aaron Flores

la tonada que olvidé “...y dicen
hay un arcoiris en mi garganta...”
)Roberto Net Carlo( slaw in pro
ductivity's hair your gristled for
k drowned ,stem cells ,ammunition
,wave the sweaty mist through ,cum
ple crumple con tu leg recuerdo
,upper fog and drain “rains des
bullets doll” )Olchar E. Lindsann(
yr rancid trump lost el arco
iris que olvidé me comí la
mano descarada ,claw in imm
utability's chair )pee your
shoes fills( nose nose nose yr
naipes ,hands sweat in the g

loves burning as the flood comes in




hand it

grim grin
or g love







eloh

drift and dry
acrid hole
moss reshod

lovely dot
shadow hole
drifting eye

knot leafage
sloshing hole

drawn my tongue

Wednesday, September 6, 2017








reflet du ciel

roofless she a float con
densed fileuse/mot fondant
)Paul Éluard( SAID A NECK
redoubled at a keyboard
Rien cette chair fait de
peu )P.E.( la calavera “nada”
me piensa me pesa me pis
a h bootless she my dirty
wheel was warped and shit
,her long yarn sp ins
melts your sounded shirt
)doubles in the fog( 's it
chy shout dries yr sil
enced encía depronounced
deentombed she or you was
none was spoke beneath the
smoke's descension


Aux yeux nourris de son miroir

- Paul Éluard




fall down

en gina
sh APE
bul EM ia
re BOL ve
i I s S m M







your forking tongue

chew the snake your coat
inhales ah twisted horn your
mouth unveils the blinding
comb or scissored cheek a
check against what time re
turns your first dead word
at last the end rethrives and
woofs stone ape wood cloud
your shoulder snaps your sm
oldered lunch BURNS THE
HORIZON where yr shoe

thins in evening breeze



Saturday, September 2, 2017








la salida

lamento el túnel que me
devuelve un túnel lleno de libros
under my shirt a boat returns
spills its pages a greasy
shore it's what you read it's
what you never read crawling
laundry past the windows ou
les nuages ,n'importe ,it's a
green mist red streaked ,teléfono
sin auricular ,piedra o ham
burgüesa ,peldaño invisible
en el fondo del agua ,aguas
de risa al revés the entry
whistles and moans


N'AURA EU LIEU

- Stéphane Mallarmé

reverse

insect dust
hills shaken
number time

glass saliva
cigarette
useless rock

theory sand
vowel slime
dancing script

solitude
never ex
ists disssolves

mmmouth ttangled
moon's basalt
ether's thgil

heat slumber
ant resin
ttelephone

cloud emblem
alphabet 's
alt grass sleep

history
hot fireflies
hemorrhage


Found in Ivan Argüelles'

My Sphinx” 




urinescent

Encore un cauchemar
je suis nu dans un chambre
toute la famille est là )Ben Vautier(
My swollen shorts a nest of
paperclips slip down my leg's
tongued air heaves out the
window en la garganta un
moscardón que habla por
ablo la entana sin V
er ror que guardo en la
cajita under your bed MUM
BLED IN GRUNT SLEEP
pleines d'ombre et de nids
)José-María de Heredia( ah
damp sheet spread be
neath your back ! the base
ment floods ,L'inutile miroir...
)Heredia( into my face your

faces fall...