Sunday, March 7, 2010

M ENTAL TEKST by Jim McCrary

Hmmm. Poetry of Critique. & closes the integral: speech=music. But in a Dee Dee Ramone kind of fashion. Great Surrealist opener:

When the madwomen come dancing out of the tree above

last nights dinner wine jumps back and covers the floor

with unbearable rants of bottom man fish oracles that you

My dinner will die laughing from ingesting these brightest

Which is I think Jim giving the jab. I like the jab. He continues:

statements coming across universal and universes which are

beyond even your wide minded brothers and sisters in our
loving state of compress.

If you think this matters. That matters.
The last line the morphing chorus

Matter matter matter matter. Not
Jim hints at an interest in vispo, as I mentioned in an ancient post, as

the participants and commanders who seem to spend

countless hours scouring all letters in both known and
unknown alphabets just trying to find something to say.


Like any of this matter. Matters.

A question of the music from the back of the head. Jimmy (that's me,) likey.





Tuesday, February 23, 2010

MY DAY IN THE COUVE


Nate (lines) & I (types) have finished My Day in Vancouver, which is available from me at $1 a copy, or at Powell's & Reading Frenzy in Porkland. It includes an 'original' rubbing & has been cut to size. Unlike Vancouver, it is the most unique my day yet...

peripatetic double review

Sunday Feb. 7th. Powell's on Hawthorne, Portland, Ore. Release/reading for REMEMBER TO WAVE, by Kaia Sand, which, as a book more than represents the walk that appears to be the center, which began temporally, ideologically as/in a film then thought thru was walked several times & now contains some impression of that time, before a phoenix at rest(?) in some other idea, here or in someone else.

Sunday Feb. 7th. Alison Cobb reads for the Spare Room. I meant to introduce her, thoughtfully & informally, & even if I failed at that (better than last) I was lucky enough to have her folly that (introduction), & follow wit that poem of hers, GREEN-WOOD. Also peripatetic palimpsest, though in its relation to me (alone?), of a place with a more familiar history & more personal, physical, experiential distance.

KS finds a root in the shopping mall, physically & really, the columns in the Expo Center, where the newspaper THE EVACUAZETTE was writ & printed.

& GREEN-WOOD, a cemetary many bodies have laft to speak of, & contain text at play & interchange with its own context(s). A cemetery of facts whose headstones are (its) etymology. & could also have a HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN HEAVEN balloon, which attempts to leave (whether it is tethered or not) & becomes entangled in the scape. As she points out 'paradise' comes from Iran, where it is "around [...] to make or form (a wall)."

The poetry in WAVE & WOOD both come in bursts. As "postconceptualists" stacking fact on fact, the transcriptions blur over each other, as in Reznikoff, but also, in GREEN-WOOD, one observation will tear thru another, as in

"looking back for anything
not burning

In Feb. 2009 Obama eased the twenty-year ban on images of soldier's bodies returning home from war ( hard light, clear edges ). Now each family gets to decide whether..."

Sand's writing also traces & accompanies historical document. Set in typewriter's Courier interwoven w/ & often overlapping with photographic collage, the text, the "Courier", echoes in transcription, & then fades, as in the type printed over "INSTRUCTIONS TO ALL PERSONS OF JAPANESE ANCESTRY".

And...
word a lamp awaiting fire

Saturday, December 12, 2009

The Crystal Text

Saturday, December 19
Beginning at noon; ending 5:00ish

The Waypost
3120 N. Williams
503-367-3182

Free admission
(Audience welcome to come and go)

The work of heaven or hell: to somehow
become aware of a howling in the motors.

Clark Coolidge, The Crystal Text (54)

As the solstice approaches, come in out of the wind and join us to listen to Clark Coolidge's compelling booklength poem The Crystal Text, read aloud by a dozen local writers.

Readers will include James Yeary, Jesse Morse, Sam Lohmann, Maryrose Larkin, Rodney Koeneke, Patrick Hartigan, Jen Coleman, Allison Cobb, Joseph Bradshaw, Meredith Blankinship, & David Abel.

A colorless quartz crystal sits upon the writer's desk, still and irreducible as a death's head in St. Jerome's study or Cezanne's studio. But what would the crystal reveal, if it could speak? How might the issue of its presence be brought into language? The poet of The Crystal Text, by means of a rare stamina of attention and listening vulnerability, seeks to become the medium of the crystal's transmissions.
(unattributed blurb, 1986 edition, The Figures)

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

like experience is

idiom-free, an vocabulary not to use

but to purge, (the large glass?) rubs

"against"
its traces ,dreamcatcher keychain

th bazaar itself, heavy metal lyrics

sunburnt retina or, Mekas' Walden vs.

experience, ("walking acetate")

Monday, October 5, 2009

OuVisPoPo

Is it gone? It is gone.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

FAMILY SHOW AT LAUNCHPAD GALLERY


Nate Orton has roused my long docile participation in the plastic arts, by convincing me, at an early hour of the day, to sign up for launch pad gallery's upcoming showcase: "Family."

So, I (and you) were "enthusuastically and apprehensively invited to explore what family means" at Launch Pad gallery, as part of their 8th annual open-call non-juried group show. I'm excited to participate in this, to which I am bringing both an installation sculpture & hybrid performance, which will be performed, physically, between 6pm & midnight Friday October 2nd, and displayed from the 2nd until November 1st.

This will be the first gallery show I have participated in since the pair of gallery shows that marked my exit from the University of Idaho in Spring, 2006. Fear not- my low-fidelity, low-resolution aesthetic & crypto-linguistic-projection appears to have held its icy constancy during this dormant period, as the liquid nickel of conception sloshed 'round the objective pit.

Launch Pad Gallery
534 SE Oak St
Portland, OR 97214