one’s not one:
which occur
no death than
all more
minds miraculous
this heartless them
(given a kiss
or a dream)
one sing:
all make two.
we grow
deep remembering
love year.
All find.
Esther Greenleaf Murer, 2014
Remixed Work:
one’s not half two. It’s two are halves of one, by E.E. Cummings
Oulipo Rule:
Tête à queue: join first and last word(s)
There is no limit to a human being’s ability
to rationalise winds, tides and waves,
extreme weather. Natural hazards. Darkness.
Vary your pattern and stay within your cover.
Bear in mind that you may not have encountered
similar conditions before. Assume nothing.
Everyone is potentially under opposition
control. Steep steps, livestock, machinery,
medication, can be unpredictable.
Never go against your gut: always a risk
of injury from crushing, kicking, butting
or goring. Go with the flow, blend in.
Please note that stalking regularly takes place.
Take all normal precautions. Don’t look back;
you are never completely alone.
Pick the time and place for action.
Should someone get into difficulties,
it would be some time before they were discovered.
Don’t harass the opposition.
Protective clothing should be worn
by anyone at risk of coming into contact.
After being bitten you should remain calm
and don’t panic. Do not attempt to remove
any clothing, such as trousers.
Keep your options open.
Jane Røken, 2014
Remixed works:
The Moscow Rules, Wikipedia
Island of Gometra’s Safety risk note
She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright.
Crashed relics of their vanished might
meet the gaze of stranger’s eyes
She walks in Beauty, like the night.
Presenting idly to my sight
from the skirts of Paradise
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Shining through the smoothest white
in the scarce believing eyes
She walks in Beauty, like the night
robed in radiance of its light:
mountain-like, through those clear skies
And all that’s best of dark and bright.
I soar along from left to right;
In her who lives, and him who dies.
She walks in Beauty, like the night
And all that’s best of dark and bright.
The Combed Thunderclap, 2014
Remixed works:
She Walks in Beauty
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
The Bride of Abydos
To–
Cain: A Mystery
Parisina
The Island
On the Star of the Legion of Honour
The Siege of Corinth
To the Earl of Clare
Euthanasia
- by Lord Byron
Sex is driving college girls berserk.
They don’t pay farmhands well enough.
I love the costumes and hate the music.
This may be wrong, it is hard to decide.
Besides, they say, you’re beautiful.
Everything that is not consumed rots.
There is a good deal still to play for.
Don’t cut flowers before they bloom.
This, of course, is a trite example.
We do not keep order with sentiment.
Therefore my position is just fine.
I need some meaning I can memorize.
However, the type was never quite to hand.
Reply with your comment or “like”.
from 555 by John Lowther, 2014
Algorithmic approach:
Text Analytics
Remixed works:
Civilization and its Discontents, by Sigmund Freud
Please Don’t Tell Me I’m Beautiful, by Jane Devin
L’Homme et le Sacre, by Roger Caillo
Alan Sinfield, in Cultural Politics
Cultural Software, by J.M. Balkin
Line from Underworld: Rise of the Lycans
The Relativist Fallacy, by The Nizkor Project
Lover I Don’t Have to Love, by Bright Eyes
The Average and The Normal, by Peter Cryle
Everything is condensed sunlight.
Books are just dead tattooed trees.
Nothing dies harder than a bad idea.
I don’t get mad, I have people that do it for me.
There aint no special dead, there’s just dead.
This could seem paradoxical, but it isn’t.
It’s there behind the door.
It’s either white or black.
It’s my way or the highway.
That’s the picture — killed instantly.
Sometimes things just got to play hard.
Those who are tardy do not get fruit cup.
Everyone’s half and half.
I don’t have a fucking clue.
One finds oneself fallen.
from 555 by John Lowther, 2014
Algorithmic approach:
Text Analytics
Remixed works:
Energy, Work, and Thermopolitics, by Levi Bryant
Books are just dead tattooed trees, popular Tumblr meme
The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron
Line from The Wire, Season 4, Episode 5
Line from The Wire, Season 1 Episode 13
Line from High Anxiety, by Mel Brooks
Hélène Cixous, in White Ink: Interviews on Sex, Text, and Politics
Undoing Gender, by Judith Butler
We eat chocolate eggs because chocolate eggs are brown and
brown was the color of the wood of the cross on which Jesus
was crucified.
I could swear that my mini-lop has been wagging his tail when I let
him out of his cage in the morning and make him his bunny
salad.
There are certain ways to tell if you have herpes however and ways
you can identify it as the cause of discomfort.
So-called “disposable” fashion is affordable fashion.
In a race between a rock and a pig, don’t varnish your clams.
from 555 by John Lowther, 2014
Algorithmic approach:
Text Analytics
Remixed works:
“We eat chocolate eggs”, by Eddie Izzard
“Animal Luvr” on Yahoo Answers
How to Tell if you have Herpes, by Mack LeMouse
“wisemint” on disposable fashion
Dilbert comic
Kelly Nelson, 2014
Sculpted work:
He ido marcando, by Pablo Neruda
Remixed work:
English translation of
He ido marcando, by Pablo Neruda
Kelly Nelson, 2014
Sculpted work:
Me gustas cuando callas, by Pablo Neruda
Remixed work:
English translation of
Me gustas cuando callas, by Pablo Neruda
A sturdy chapel
of adamant invalids
& insomniacs,
so photogenic,
only to have
danger follow,
though never easily,
that’s the art,
almost child-
simple flowers,
one standing,
one leaping,
against a dark blue ground,
as a small bird
evolves for hours,
days, weeks,
painted & scraped
to the point
of collapse,
pinned, unpinned,
repositioned
& pinned again,
whatever it takes,
slivers, puncture marks,
for fragile & rough
doves to fly up
Howie Good, 2014
Remixed works:
Wisps From an Old Man’s Dreams,
by Holland Cotter (NY Times, 9 Oct 2014)
I live in the reign
of sparrows
Bird tracks
make circles
in my palms
What isn’t is
We have left
bones in the forest
& dark swans
under the water
Howie Good, 2014
Remixed works:
Michael’s Roof, by Heather S. Steliga
Mount Chicora, by Heather S. Steliga
Changing Hands, by Heather S. Steliga
Jade Crutches Hold Up My Eyelids, by Heather S. Steliga
Peasants, by Heather S. Steliga