The poetic work of Dan Magers is challenging and engaging, beautiful and mysterious. A few weeks ago I wrote a short piece about one of Magers’ poems and, more recently, had the chance to speak wit…

My thoughts on Johannes Gorannson’s HAUTE SURVEILLANCE: live at Eyeslit-Crypt.

Reblogged at Montevidayo

Somewhere I speak Chloe Sevigny and Isabella Adjani to Arcturus. But in order to tear us apart, Gallo and Neill would have to project themselves like holographic vapors of transcendence. Here is the Traumathurge where we meet and become dirt. 

A short piece composed in summer 2012 probably inspired by the works of David Ohle whose influence continues to bubble below the surface. I’m just hoping to capture one of those bubbles, maybe even let it shine for a bit off my teeth, cleanse this rot. Here is an excerpt:

“I’ve split buzzards to sing: bloated tissue, psychic cells quiver neon. Nothing solid to botch the epidemic. The current is blubbery. In the end, Feng doesn’t realize the pain or what electric wires do. They power the city, cake membrane repellent, a haze of clamorous buzz. A buzzard’s brain, frozen open, land-locked and ready to pummel, is the world’s tramp. They shot me. Ode to my struck neck: a beak squawks, volts and rubber splotches. I need a new hitch to sink this crumb: the android, the microbe, the pentagram halo. Feng’s pocket glows when I stroke mashed tongue, lick air. Weathervanes go funny. Not much to tell. I’ll give it a whirl.” 

In trying to “review” DARK MATTER by Aase Berg, I fell into a zone described by Johannes Gorannson as “Overjoy.” Of the review itself, he says:

“This review is a very intense, affected reading of the text, describing the “stuff”, the “sheerstuff”, the overjoy stuff, the poetry that affects us intensively.”

If you are looking for a collection that is gorgeous, haunting, disturbing, and provocative, then Berg’s DARK MATTER should fit nicely up your sleeve. I had a beautiful time writing this review and hope you will appreciate it.

UPDATE: This piece is mentioned in the HTMLgiant post, “How to be a Critic (pt.5).”

What began as a lyric essay on purpose, lifemaking, communication, mindfulness and more, headed south, came unhinged and ended up in a moat with a damp man in the rubble. I consider this one of best, most personal, things I have written. Thank you for reading. 

This last summer, I worked on a short series of “Corridor” pieces and am happy to announce this new addition to the series in the latest issue of The Fiddleback. It is a piece at once inspired by Brian Evenson and Steve Erickson, but that might not come through. It’s David Lynch and video games and as romantic as a Harlequin masterpiece. Without further ado, please enjoy this short, but potent piece, “Corridor Three: the Loon Calls at Dusk.” 

For a limited time, this short piece is available at the marvelously macabre Thirteen Myna Birds. The pigs will be etherized.

It takes me 1.5 hours to get to work—bus, train, bus—and usually I’m engrossed in some book or another, but at the same time, it’s hard not to simply look around at the distractions: television monitor, fellow passengers, flickering advertisements. The people around me most certainly look at me. I stick out, even blending in. This piece is not necessarily about this commute, but it’s for the commute. It’s for those mornings when the train empties or buses of silence. It’s for someone at the top of the escalator looking down, looking down, looking too far down.

My wallet was stolen on the bus. I sat down, smoked a cigarette, called my wife. We never found it. Stepped back on the bus, was in a different city. I needed to write this out and here is the meditation. I’m brainstorming ideas for a few novella length projects. This one has potential to be developed. Thanks to the EMPRISE REVIEW editors for making this one possible.