Author: admin

To Ensure Success
On a First Date…

Avoid
Profanities such as FUCK or TWAT.
Licentious or suggestive nudity-
in fact or in silhouette.
The burning of national flags.
The use of firearms.
Ridicule of the clergy.
And apparent cruelty to children and animals.

Eliminate vulgarity and suggestiveness such as:-
Scenes of actual childbirth –
in fact or in silhouette.
Surgical operations.
Branding of people or animals at the dining table.
The use of drugs.
Actual hangings or electrocutions.
Excessive or lustful kissing.
And  absolutely no horizontal embracing –
one of the four participating feet
should always be on the floor.

Shadwell Smith, 2014

Remixed work:
The Motion Picture Production Code of 1930 (Hays Code)

If You Don’t Care
Where You Are,
Then You Ain’t Lost

by
Moomin Strugatsky

The houses in the Plague Quarter are peeling
and lifeless, but the windows are mostly intact,
only so dirty that they look opaque. Now at night
when you crawl by, you can see the glow inside,
as if alcohol were burning in bluish tongues.

On the very top of the jagged peak above them
stands the Observatory. Inside, scientists make
thousands of remarkable observations, smoke
thousands of cigarettes, and live alone with the stars.

In the middle of the floor a giant telescope revolves
slowly, keeping watch on the sky, and there is
the constant whirring sound of a machine.
There it is, their cable, hanging down almost
to the ground and covered with hair . . .

That’s how they always do it around here,
so that everyone can see: There they go, the heroes
of science, to lay themselves down on the altar
to mankind, knowledge, and the Holy Spirit, amen.

Jane Røken, 2014

Remixed works:
Quote attributed to Robert Anton Wilson
Comet in Moominland, by Tove Jansson
Roadside Picnic, by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

663

by
E. Dickins 

Again — his voice
       the
           ask the
            one — as me —

I        flower —
           justify —
                   this
I

                 with         steps —
 — silent —
  look             world
     his face —

           careless — and
                  strain —
Each —
    — how —
               — had been —

We walk
         thoughtful      —
     with us — just a little
And — then —

Alone — if            "alone" —
                    the sky
                veiled
We cannot

            live that hour —
The purple —    my Vein —
                  the drops —
My                 stain

Laura LeHew, 2014

Sculpted work:
663, by Emily Dickinson

Gun(two)point(zero)

1
God naked. And, seeing all that for the first time,
I move on to the next point, which, of course,
has a slightly different color, shades of brown –
the autumn of 1970, or Vienna during the Nazi period.
Around it I feel the skin burning. I mean, something happens,
something I don’t actually see, the light not good,
although I didn’t necessarily intend it that way.

2
Someone comes along
with a machine and thinks he’s a god,
and I don’t need that.

But he’s certainly an emperor, a king.
After the war, we see the view
from his left eye as he lies on a chaise longue,
the view out over his moustache.

How terrible. No colors. Green light without colors.
Because a feeling has no form.
It has a blurred quality, a kind of flailing about.

I’ll paint it red.
And so surrealism came to our small town.
Hundreds of people lined up outside to enter,
although there was no wait.

3
You push a button
with the palm of your hand
and still fail to disappear.
I have other problems –
X-rays, a pig’s red nose,
loads of ghosts and aura.
But what appeals to me
is precisely this difficulty.
That’s to say, I’m totally normal,
although even today,
the grinning man in the moon
whose skull was open at the back
was beginning to catch up.

Howie Good, 2014

Remixed work:
Maria Lassnig in conversation with Frieze co-editor Joerg Heiser,
Frieze: Issue 103

Gertrude and Emily Dwell in Possibility

I dwell in Possibility
More numerous of Windows;
A single image is not splendor
To shine, why not shine, to shine

Of Chambers as the Cedars
Impregnable of Eye—
The difference is spreading
A place in no new table

And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky—
An arrangement in a system to pointing
All this and not ordinary, not unordered in not resembling.

Of Visitors—the fairest—
For Occupation—This—
The question does not come before there is a quotation
Certainly glittering is handsome and convincing

The spreading wide of narrow Hands
To gather Paradise—
In the evening there is feeling
All this makes a harmony, it even makes a succession

Christina Murphy, 2014

Remixed works:
Dwell in Possibility, by Emily Dickinson
Tender Buttons, by Gertrude Stein

Death is Here,
Death is Guarded by Swords

a Cento

I wake in the dark and remember
White fog lifting and falling on mountain-brow.

Lady of the Night star-breathed
This is the Wheel of Dreams

It rises over the lake, the farms,
Black bird, black voice,

You only have to wait, they will find you

I touch you in the night, whose gift was you,
All the new thinking is about loss.

No one believes in the calm
The hospital: it wasn’t her idea

A wild patience has taken me this far
While I stood here, in the open, lost in myself,

What voice at moth-hour did I hear calling
Traveling through the dark I found a deer

Love it was good to talk to you tonight.
At dawn the dove croons.

The ache of marriage
The whiskey on your breath

As long as we look forward, all seems free,
It seemed the kind of life we wanted.

My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent
History has to live with what was here,

This is not exactly what I mean
I shall hate you

Here they are. The soft eyes open.
Your face did not rot

Mercy is whiter than laundry,
It was a long time ago.

Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily
I cannot remember things I once read

Stasis in darkness.

Gone, I say and walk away from church,
Is the soul solid, like iron?

Laura LeHew, 2014

Remixed works:
Iris, by Murial Rukeyser
Rain Travel, by WS Merwin
Wales Visitation, by Allen Ginsberg
The Night-Blooming Jasmine, by Audre Lorde
Carriers of the Dream Wheel, by N. Scott Momaday
The Kite, by Mark Strand
In the Orchard, by Anne Stevenson
Messengers, by Louise Gluck
The Science of the Night, by Stanley Kunitz
Meditations at Laguitas, by Robert Haas
Belief, by Philip Levine
Darlene’s Hospital, by John Ashbery
Integrity, by Adrienne Rich
Milkweed, by James Wright
What Voice at Moth-Hour, by Robert Penn Warren
Traveling Through the Dark, by William Stafford
Rondeau After a Transatlantic Telephone Call, by Marilyn Hacker
California Spring, by Charles Wright
The Ache of Marriage, by Denise Levertov
My Papa’s Waltz, by Theodore Roethke
The Western Approach, by Howard Nemerov
Serpent Knowledge, by Robert Pinsky
In Memory of My Feelings, by Frank O’Hara
History, by Robert Lowell
The World and I, by Laura Riding Jackson
Hatred, by Gwendolyn B. Bennett
The Heaven of Animals, by James Dickey
The Lost Pilot, by James Tate
Angels in Winter, by Nancy Willard
As I Grew Older, by Langston Hughes
Little Exercise, Elizabeth Bishop
Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout, by Gary Synder
Ariel, by Sylvia Plath
The Truth the Dead Know, by Anne Sexton
Some Questions You Might Ask, by Mary Oliver