Poetry — Online

Monday. A note left on the toaster, between burnt crumbs: Don't let the voices win. I hadn't heard them in three weeks. Tuesday. I passed the man again. Same long coat, same blank stare, same mumbling into the collar. He doesn't smell like fear — more like stale coins and copper regret. Something in his pocket glinted. Something watched. I watched back.

As I sd to my friend, because I am always talking,—Jorn, I sd, which was not his name, the darkness sur- rounds us, what can we do against it, or else, shall we & why not, buy a goddamn big car, dérive, he sd, for christ’s sake, look out where yr going.

Being circulates around a void that lies at its heart & limit. Writing should be a rare thing, this amounts to saying, if I am surrounded by absolute silence. Robert Creeley’s use of white space Larry Eigner’s use of white space Stéphane Mallarmé’s use of white space Asger Jorn’s use of modification, Mark Amerika’s remixes, Bob Cobbing’s retinal alphabets, Velimir Khlebnikov’s The Law of Generations. Ron Silliman’s Can you feel it? Does it hurt? Is this too soft? Using questions, the interrogative mood.