Friday, April 21, 2017

The Shadow World and A New Poet Reader, by Jim Leftwich

The Shadow World

Beyond the during in this possession there is no space for becoming the imaginary of Dionysos. Art junket foray thief therein the chordal Other, saxophones and scorpions in symmetry, no horizontal emphasis duplicates the horror of the rhythm. Riveting sometimes merging, rivers sometimes merging, events in the evening sometimes merging, onto the elemental toehold, brief and tried, our doors are composed out of a need for these sermons in their season. Rudiments at harrowing series, the original treasure was extrasensory, the spiritual piano was existential. Futuristic and spontaneous astonishments shadow our chaotic certainty. In 1964 Pharoah Sanders was a cook at the restaurant downstairs from Judson Hall. An ear for the organ and preface remaining in the capacity for attractive compositions sporadically outlived, drummers blue latent the veritable lead. Four days in December a new four-day festival twenty-four-hour marathon among members, infrathin apartments the group also met leaders rehearsed their insignia at the center of avant-garde concerts by Sun Ra. Like the October Revolution, bands' sorcerer riding that horse through the portrait of an abolished kitchen and into the New York Times, in the country capitalizing on the final weeks before art dematerialized, although these four sizable excesses were available at subsequent addresses. Building on proximity to jazz report cards skirmishing "change of campaign" among the members, apothecary to our drainage, the present has always been complex and unclear, and so it is right now. During the triangular contemporary, staggering hands, soon having only one direction.

jim leftwich


A New Poet-Reader

To destroy the material design of the poem soaked in words can humanize the tradition of oral typography advertised on our clothes.

Someone has already imagined the pick-up truck littered with letters preceding the washing machine and the constellation.

The worlds of contours floundering in coincidence are flooded with visual poems.

The world as a visual poem is the cosmic material itself.

Spirituality wishes to form in writing the peculiar contemporary fish suddenly historical.

Facts are lost in the silent environment.

Poets are fragments of an impossible poem.

The pages of the world are touched and mettled as in a return to the ground of a previous language.

Neither goat nor peyote, the perception of an exploration lies in the design of its making.

The present is not the only hymn of the real.

Throughout the shut message conveyed by the will of the world an unpredictable weather is reading the gloss of itself as an invitation to cause problems.

Semantic freedom tarnished by a penetrating framework.

Letters occupy the common carom of an arrow in style.

Associational and delicious, like the moon in a poem, restraint is used to change the essential characteristics of a sentence.

Utmost violence personal organic meaning emerges in seams strictly beginning upon physical letters.

Organic tooth-magic arrangement also paragraphs and parentheses, tracking its own golden elephant through the sparkle of an ageless crystal, words staring intently into their econometric hourglass, perfect balloons neutral shining warnings, simple decorative meanings hiding in the trash adapt to expensive garbage, so yields the turtle, do not hesitate before these beautiful spells, horizontal and ultimate in your semantic space.

Imagine the poems as a playhouse created by reversals in silence.

Tempted by the sun, the sounds of emphatic clarity are unnecessary.

Ideology is born in the nascent morals of method and structure.

Form foams; firm fires; farms famish; ferns feet; fur furls.

Their identity is wide and bold, like the flexible velocity of the poem.

"Curse yet goat" becomes in practice the ghost of a hybrid given.

The soul of the word in the street is the light of the word on the feet.

Remove the sun: more words!

Managed aesthetic patterns are poetry.

Paper is a visual poem about linguistic content.














jim leftwich