The Cleave Poetry Webzine [ISSN: 1758-9223]

Archive for November, 2008

Migration by Phuoc-Tan Diep

In media, submission on November 30, 2008 at 8:13 am

Migration

Swifts and swallows leave – while I grasp for memories like

fruit – remnants of home

riddled with holes – my baby cools in my arms

dripping fermented juice – the milk from her mouth

sweet – sticks under my fingernails

under blushing trees – the guards, with eloquent guns, demand my  coat

those that can’t leave expect a cold winter – they smirk at my battered sweetbox

with its few hopes – inside are smuggled postcards of thatched houses

and promises – of English orchards.

This cleave poem was written specifically for the “Don’t be a stranger” initiative launched at this year’s Evangelical Alliance flagship event The Temple Address 2008, given at The Royal Society on the 27th November by The Archbishop of York; The Most Reverend and Right Honourable Dr John Sentamu. The cleave is included in the booklet accompanying this initiative and on the EA website and in upcoming press releases.

image001

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Afterwards, Janet: A Murder Mystery in Speech Acts by Diana Manister

In submission on November 29, 2008 at 7:40 am
12janet6x9mrg



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Split in Two (or three) by P.A.Levy

In submission on November 28, 2008 at 7:59 am

Split in Two (or three)

I’ve held -……. night time skies laden with dreams,
stars -………….. and the moon, whose orbit follows lines
in my hand -.. laid down into darkness moulded by caresses,
until light -….. touch of pleasures; sweet songs
escaped -……… crashing into prism colours,
out through -. sonnets I wrote on your flesh
my fingers -…. tracing every wish into a couplet
and then -……. sealing every letter of love with a kiss
I just held -….. and held you until morning became clothed in mists;
cloud -………….. castles crumbled on the drift and I was lost in echoes
whispers -……. that blue is here to stay forever.

P.A.Levy, having fled his native East End, now hides in the heart of Suffolk countryside learning the lost art of hedge mumbling.  He has been published in several magazines, although these days he spends far too much time controlling his characters on the Clueless Collective website at: www.cluelesscollective.co.uk.


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After Reading Shelley and Hearing Krenwinkel is up For Parole Again by Laurie Byro

In submission on November 27, 2008 at 7:13 am

After Reading Shelley and Hearing Krenwinkel is up For Parole Again

by Laurie Byro

A greater impact is
absence as you                Troublesome Love
wield your chisel creating
somebody else’s wound         you are thwarted by
                              inconvenience.
Are you the one?
                              It is the silver hour
                              Crickets will chorus
One of the unfortunate
who settles your stiff legs
into a hunter’s stance
after you claim the body?     in the four corners
                              of my room. 

They will say, as any smart
family will say,
I have gone to Ireland
to be with my aunt.           Soon I will rise, Ophelia’s
                              wet hair clinging to my legs
                              like strands of lake-grass.
You have left me, but I will
walk away from you,
this time.                    Call me the only Romantic
                              in your mad maid’s circle.
You, who have been
with a man.                              

But bury me under a Pointing Tree its fingers brown
from its work under the sun, not woman’s work on paper
falling and covering me as you should have done had you
not preferred my sister.
 ========================================

Laurie Byro is a thrice nominated Pushcart Prize poet who has been published widely in the United States, Canada and the United Kingdom. Laurie lives in Northern New Jersey where she works as Head of Circulation in a library and facilitates “Circle of Voices.”


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Descending a Double Helix Staircase by Margot Brown

In submission on November 26, 2008 at 7:11 am

….Descending a Double Helix Staircase

On Ativan …………………..for my trouble with heights
..I can open my eyes………………I wobble with fright
in this merciless mouth of air…………trembling
……each edge a precipice………no stable sight
…….disoriented…………like a drunk baby ape
………..flailing for a vine…..aloft, out of synch
……….…oh! for a drink…….thirsty from fear
…………….descend……….steps tentative
..……………….swaying…………twisting
…..………………imagining……..falling
………………….……falling….calling
…………………………….calling

………………………………fall
………………………………ing


Margot Brown was born and raised in Massachusetts and now lives in Northern Illinois with a Hurricane Katrina evacuee (Miss Kitty), and her husband, Michael Morrison. Margot’s poetry has appeared in joyful!, The Shine Journal and The Boston Literary Magazine and in an upcoming anthology, Poetry for Suzanne, published by Avalanche.

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tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 15-19/19) by Dennis Kelly

In discussion, submission on November 25, 2008 at 7:29 am

CLEAVE POETICS 15-19

Four Quatorzain cleaves

“I prefer poems in anthologies
to poems in individual books.
A poem in an anthology has
forgotten its author.”
—Tan Lin, “ambient stylistics,”
Telling It Slant

BERNSTEIN

Brute design—beltway bozos
dEmocracy—lewd propositions
guRly boyz—knowing the truth
thiNk about—halliburton haves and those
scabS of the—ratty mourning have-nots
gangsTer lobbyists—hoodlum politicians
silhouEtting—formaldehyde artifices
uncertaInties—nightly snarky fox-tv
discrepaNcies—elephantine lies

Seed text = BERNSTEIN
Source text = Charles Bernstein’s
“Ballad of the Girly Man,” Girly Man (2000)

(Using the diastic method, the writer reads through the source text and successively finds words or other linguistic units that have the letters of the seed text in positions that correspond to those they occupy in the seed text.)

http://quarterlyconversation.com/thing-of-beauty-by-jackson-mac-low

(Using the cleave method, the writer reads through the diastic text—hyphenating the horizontal text into2 vertical texts. The resulting text is a diastic / cleave intertext—with 3 poems in positions that correspond to each in a unique polymorphosely vocal / textual way.

http://cleavepoetry.wordpress.com/2008/10/07/dennis-kellys-further-thoughts-on-cleave-poetics/

GREENE

Gravedigger—slowly finishing up
GReene saying—“One never knows,
WhEn the blow—may fall”
DetEctive—sesame phrase:
“FrieNd—of Harry Lime”—
WinklEr—the Viennese Jansenist

Seed text = GREENE
Source text =The Third Man (1950)

“Jansenist,” Dr. Winkler commented and closed his mouth sharply as though he had been guilty of giving away too much information. “Never heard the word. Why are the arms above the head?” Dr. Winkler said reluctantly, “Because He died, in their view, only for the elect.”
—Graham Greene, The Third Man

BAUDELAIRE

Balking at sleep—i was a well
pAscal had his abysses—i was a mine
haUnted by vertigo—nightmares
hanDs reaching down into—darknesss
pacEs full of—languorous indifferences
disobLiging work—being a lyric poet in hell
consolAtions being few—in between while
contritIions ending up—lame and clandestine
surrendeRing sullen—boredom
silhouettEs—baudelaire on the wall…

Seed text = BAUDELAIRE
Source text = Les Fleurs de malNotes:

“Les Fleurs de mal was the last lyric work that had a broad European reception; no other writings penetrated beyond a more or less linguistic area. Added to this is the fact that Baudelaire expended his productive capacity almost entirely on this one volume.” —Walter Benjamin, The Writer of Modern Life: Essays on Charles Baudelaire (2006)

PIERS GAVESTON

Ganymede—prince, my future king
pAge, sovereign’s son—fairest lover boy
joVe’s cutest chicken—lascivious commaund
sweEt beauty’s rarest purple—flower in bloom
wordS can’t describe how wanton—the ivy-twisting
idolaTrous my love-sick lips—kissing qualm
gavestOn your servant—ogling eyes astonished
ascendaNt—by rare phoenix youth…

Seed text = Gaveston
Source text =”Piers Gaveston,”
Michael Drayton (1593)

“This Edward in the April of his age,
Whil’st yet the Crown sat on his father’s head
My Jove with me, his Ganymede, his page,
Frolic as May, a lusty life we led…..
He might commaund, he was my
Sovereign’s son,
And what I said, by him was ever done.
My words as laws authentic he allowed,
Mine yea, by him was never crossed with no,
All my conceit as current he avowed,
And as my shadow still he served so”


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The Cleave on Ink Sweat & Tears

In media on November 24, 2008 at 9:18 am

Thanks to Charles Christian for highlighting us on his webzine Ink Sweat and Tears,

where the first ever cleave poem was published over a year ago.

It is a great place to submit your poetry to, and Charles is a great Editor.

Please Burn This Poem, Plant this Poem by J.S. MacLean

In submission on November 24, 2008 at 7:28 am

………………………..Please Burn This Poem, Plant this Poem

To write a cleave…………………………………………..if it is three poems
won’t be easy………………………………………….or one long one folded
the usual symmetrical……………………..bilateral or triclinic trimeter
approach is to take………………………………………..two to make three
ideas and explore……………………………….more than one the sonnet
all ins and outs……………………………………..or if I actually amputate
with technique………………………………..a formula with three results
until it sounds……………………………………..just like temporal fission
like a Bach’s……………………………………………….C Major Solo Violin
Sonata…………………………………………………………or a Coltrane tune
single melody…………………………………………………………..streaming
into three………………………………………………………………at least two
coexisting………………………………………………..simultaneous in time
if it works………………………………………….in some mysterious world
if a secret door unlocks……………………where you need three sexes
will three know……………………………………………………….to connect
and still respect………………………………………………………each other
in triplicate………………………………………..expecting baseball teams
_____________________________________________
Maybe if I use a mirror…………………………………………………so I did
.write on the glass…………………………………………peer over the top
holding up to another…………………………………..and there I was
….trying to make sense……………………………..in a two way world
…..of a cleavage………………………………………..layered and lucid
…….like sheets of isinglass…………………..for a furnace window
……….but the poems are looking out…..three no four no more
…………a trillion I suppose……..spawning darkness an abyss
………….behind the isinglass………of monoclinic evil hordes
………………but they are the isinglass……..but all is glass
………………….or just like glass…………….like isinglass
……………………….isn’t it glass………………or isn’t it
…………………………….isinglass……..I guess it is
…………………………………………..isn’t it
……………………………………………..or
……………………………………………..is
……………………………………………..it

J.S. MacLean lives in Calgary Alberta, Canada. His poetry has been published in
online and print publications including This Magazine, The Maynard, Beano Anthology
and Vidya and will appear in upcoming issues of  Every Day Poets and Perspectives.


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A Compass Rose, Explained to a Raindrop by Andrea Defoe

In submission on November 22, 2008 at 7:03 am

A warm welcome to Andrea Defoe.

*

A Compass Rose, Explained to a Raindrop

North, then Northwest – from the black river, – so this is Northeast:

from where the road forks – you empty out into - a pristine lake

you choose like Frost – a manmade reservoir - poisoned with mercury

but both ways are so paved – with a foot-shaped floor - like the god took a swim

as to show no wear – like a shoe slipped off - and abandoned

but if you continue West – to the center, a giant - Eastern style artesian well

you’ll flow into a kettle – cartographer’s teacup - brimming

a glacial relic – all chipped clay and oldness - with a good spring

like the cool grottos – awful musty - and out of use

to the Southwest there are – tents in a campground, – doors facing Southeast

thunder clouds – angled roofs for rain - shut windows

that call you up – so you can drip down - and you’re kept outside

so you can boom – and make mud, – because weather is dirty

feed that hurricane brewing down South.

*

Andrea Defoe lives with her family on the Red Cliff Indian Reservation in northern Wisconsin.

She prefers to think of herself as being at least of few cats shy of crazy cat lady, but she’s

honestly not sure. Her poems have appeared in various literary journals, most recently:

Rattle, 32 Poems, New American Writing and Margie.


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Pastor in White by Thane Zander

In submission on November 21, 2008 at 6:53 am
                    Pastor in White

    I begged the minister - to bow down to an unknown God
     support my matrimony - as we preached to John
 creating a new inference - to demonise George - King
   and passing the Grace, - unto facts of insobriety
I stood firm, knees tight - and passing judgement on the Christ
       nailed to the wall - where the blood dried and
      we spoke in tongues - a Pastor in White washed.


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tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 13&14/19) by Dennis Kelly

In submission on November 20, 2008 at 7:18 am
CLEAVE POETICS 13&14 of 19

13

“metaphor chains”
—Clark Coolidge,
“Arrangement,” Talking
Poetics from Naropa

        not everyone here—hears words turning
      feels apportionment—mosaic night-soil moving
      collecting in sleep—penetrating dreams
    invisible stalagmites—slow motion overhead
      older than pyramids—elvis’ blue suede shoes
        cassiopeia’s taxi—outside the 7-eleven
the lady in the red dress—the queen of spades
    words want to make us—faking us away
        twisting crimping—that’s their style
     give them some slack—chill your cool

14.

“there are no rules,
let’s see what can
be written”
—Clark Coolidge,
Postmodern Poetry:
The Talisman Interviews

              see the ink—egyptian papyrus jive
            see the ships—on the walls of the temples
             see the nile—inching back and forth centuries
            see the birds—in the reeds along the banks
      see the steep steps—hear the coffin creak & groan
    see the antique palms—leaning into the sunset
   see the piles of stone—beneath the ancient stars
        see the gold mask—see thru tut’s time-machine
  see the coiled caduceus—uncoil when it’s time
see the face that’s yours—when the pyramids fly


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Editorial Status

In announcement on November 19, 2008 at 8:10 am

Editorial Status.

We have been in ‘Proof of Principle’ mode since the launch of The Cleave Webzine.

This meant an inevitable mixture of quality, practice and experimentation – good for the beginning.

My aim was to prove the viability of the Cleave poetic form – I believe this has been proved, to a greater extent than I had envisaged. Thank you all.

Therefore, I will to take The Cleave to the next stage.

I will call it, for want of a better phrase, the Editorial Feedback stage.

If I believe a submission can be improved I will give feedback, along some of the following points, usually in question form rather than specifying how it should be changed to:

  1. Depth: What is the theme, what is the point – so what?
  2. Craft: Does each poem work on its own and together?
  3. Communication: Is it clear; does it communicate?
  4. Experimentation: Is it pushing the envelope?

This may lead to a reduction in quantity but will lead to an increase in quality.

The change will come into effect on the 1st of December 2008.

I hope this will be acceptable to all.

The Editor

Simple by Thane Zander

In submission on November 19, 2008 at 7:26 am
      Simple
 Simply - disassociate
   pass - rubble
   wind - clocks
breathe - smoke
choking - cigarettes
  tears – overwhelming

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tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 11&12/19) by Dennis Kelly

In submission on November 18, 2008 at 7:01 am
CLEAVE POETICS 11&12 of 19

11.

“Language isn’t just
objects, it moves…”
—Clark Coolidge,
“Arrangement,” Talking
Poetics from Naropa

   if after all—they do know
    if i say so—and they agree
     a marriage—a convenience
     between us—our arrangements
parallel poetry—out of thin air
   making it up—right then & there
        with me—who am i to quibble?

12.

“you go where it goes,
I think that connects with
arrangement in a way”’
—Clark Coolidge,
“Arrangement,” Talking
Poetics from Naropa

            carbide—lamps
       terrifyingly—brighter
 acetylene torching—working better
brighter down there—than flashlights
         spelunking—inside trilobite time
  stalactite organs—playing in the dark
       intrauterine—underground journeys
        passageways—connected arrangements
  crawling climbing—using ropes down deep
      reading rocks—rocks reading you
    cleaving deeper—thru strata and faults


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One last thing by Carol Lynn Grellas

In submission on November 17, 2008 at 7:16 am

Please welcome another new cleave poet – Carol Lynn Grellas.

               One last thing

      Bury these words - someday
   they’ll be too real - if read out loud
        too convoluted - you won’t understand
  such shocking things - these thoughts and dreams
all better left unsaid - conceal the remnants
    cover up the truth - this final rubbish
          my only poem - and lasting proof
         your souvenir - of all that was unspoken.

Carol Lynn Grellas is the author of two chapbooks:
Litany for Finger Prayers, forthcoming from Pudding
House Press and Object of Desire available from
Finishing Line Press. She is a two-time Pushcart
nominee and widely published in magazines and
online journals, including most recently, The Hiss
Quarterly, Flutter, Oak Bend Review and an electric
chapbook, Desired Things from Gold Wake Press.
She lives with her husband, five children and a
blind dog named Ginger.


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The Verdant Lore by Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago

In submission on November 15, 2008 at 7:14 am
           The Verdant Lore
     by Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago

       On the page - of this lore
painted verdant by - the rod of God
   a word traveler - unveils

           A song, - its charm
 perhaps, sounding - on the mystic
              blue - sea

 Amidst the echoes - of peripheral visions
  his thoughts are - dancing wildly in the
            orphic - wind

              Like - the twists
         of leaves - in early Autumn
   that innocently - falling in passion,
   seeking a home, - to entertain the souls

 He sighs through… - the remnants of dreams
 and finds himself - a proverbial comfort

  In the breath of - this blossoming page is
   a verdant lore, - the scents of my life


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tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 9&10/19) by Dennis Kelly

In submission on November 14, 2008 at 8:45 pm
CLEAVE POETICS 9&10 of 19

9.

“He’s one of the
interesting bad writers”
—Clark Coolidge,
“Arrangement,” Talking
Poetics from Naropa

            it lurks—my window's open
    i don’t even see—what’s coming thru
     but it knows me—noxious yog-sothoth
spawn of primal time—tentacles amorphous
     monster cleaves—threshold lurkers
  frothing congeries—protoplasmic flow
    opening the gate—eldritch netherworld
       hip lovecraft—call of cthalhu

10.

“to find a form that
accommodates the
mess, that is the task
of the writers today”
—Samuel Beckett

     next to—next to
does it join—does it join
does it mean—does it mean
does it know—does it know
if after all—it does know
and I say so—does it?


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November by Phuoc-Tan Diep

In discussion, submission on November 14, 2008 at 6:59 am
                    November
          The sun weeps - cider tinted tears
             for Summer - for the fading
for the moon that hides - light
       behind the trees - as Autumn leads Winter
  shivering and anaemic - by the hand

**For those interested, I have included all my drafts here: Anatomy of a cleave poem: November**


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Cloven by Mal

In submission on November 13, 2008 at 7:12 am

…and another new cleave poet; a mysterious cleave poet by the name of Mal…

                     Cloven by Mal

Chief Joseph Pass
the apex                    of the distribution curve
                            where we should be
on schedule
on time                     on a slick curving road
about to descend
into the Big Hole
                            there are no potholes in the surface
                            of space

that we negotiate           without conceptualizing
aware                       that we’ve been here before

that we are allowed to pass through this grand trick
                            of what we cannot observe

without altering
time                        the collision of particles
                            kochia tumbling the highway
A snow gander
spreads his wings
in freeze-up                across the Big Hole River

Bio: Mal, who lives in Montana. Often misplaces his shoes.
Gets 1950's model tail-finned American convertibles
mixed up with deepwater fish, much to his detriment.
Otherwise a mystery.


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Ducks Eggs by Thane Zander

In submission on November 12, 2008 at 7:22 am

A very warm welcome to another cleave poet, Thane Zander.

                  Ducks Eggs
                by Thane Zander

     She ducked-dived - waltzed in the blue pond
     her mane ruffled - the spreading tree making
           extricated - partnership deals
 from within her mind - the light omitted
seven fingers of hope - dancing a polka
   until the last joy - blowing her away.

Bio: Thane is a retired man writing poetry as a full
time occupation out of Feilding New Zealand.
He is a New Zealander born and bred.  His secondary
school was Palmerston North Boys High School,
where he was first introduced to poetry
(WH Auden’s Night Mail).He spent 27 years in the
Royal New Zealand Navy, dabbling in poetry occassionally,
but was invalided out with a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder
in 2002. He has been retired since trying to cope with
the illness and he turned to poetry as a means to
moderate his moods and to measure his progress with
his illness. To date, in six years, he has written over
900 poems, mostly at several online poetry forums.
He has been published in several anthologies and ezines,
but writes mainly for self gratification.


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This Is My Shadow by Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago

In submission on November 11, 2008 at 7:28 am

Please give a warm welcome to a new cleave poet Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago.


This Is My Shadow

                               This
                                  Is
                                   My
                                 Shadow

               Poetry is my escape - and my cure

                           I float - in word
            like free bird soaring - swiftly
 into the blue sky; freedom is not - found
             in what you can offer - me
              but in what I can do - for my self, without you

                         vacuuming - my whole

                     Oh, my shadow - can only be
seen
by those who are willing to see - me


Poet's Profile: Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago
is a poet and author of “The Walking Man”,
a poetry book published by Outskirtspress.
He lives in Athens, Greece.


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tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 7&8/19) by Dennis Kelly

In submission on November 10, 2008 at 7:26 am
CLEAVE POETICS 7&8 of 19

7.

“Just a sequence
of rooms…”
—Clark Coolidge,
Postmodern Poetry:
The Talisman Interviews

   i hear it—when it’s coming
i don’t know—it’s different each time
 ignorant me—an undertow beneath
    my style—just flowing with it
     failing—just what is needed
     finally—entering the moment
   when i am—into who i am

8.

“or should I
say nonconnection”
—Clark Coolidge,
Postmodern Poetry:
The Talisman Interviews

 entering it—the keyhole
  the cleave—down the middle
     slicing—cerebral hemispheres
    the tale—of two cities
  boulevards—left and right
  drawbridge—across the channel
  down below—thru the metal grating
  tall ships—passing in the night
    my brain—springs a leak
falling down—into sailboats


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    tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 5&6/19) by Dennis Kelly

    In submission on November 8, 2008 at 6:53 am
    CLEAVE POETICS 5&6 of 19
    
    5.
    
    “This is very
    unprovoked thought”
    —Clark Coolidge,
    Postmodern Poetry:
    The Talisman Interviews
    
              it opened—i caught it
     versions left over—over the edge
           they shifted—down the spinal cord
        all the hyphens—slouching like cats
               sniffing—soft paws on the carpet
       here in the city—craning their necks
    getting a good look—thru the gate
           at the other—shape-shifter
    
    6.
    
    “the great
    misunderstandings”
    —Clark Coolidge,
    Postmodern Poetry:
    The Talisman Interviews
    
       it comes here—i don’t know how
          i say this—i’ve lost so much
    planting hyphens—slanting it down
        how it grows—nobody knows
           beneath a—night sun moon
           blackness—dark at high noon
         it’s coming—undoing me


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      Hubble a Cosmic Cleave by Diana Manister

      In multimedia, submission on November 7, 2008 at 7:52 am
      Hubble a Cosmic Cleave
      
      Of the years of being
      lost in space.           homeless in a
                               placeless place
      only the falling
      feeling remains          and all the stars
                               whistling away like jet planes

      ***

      Youtube video of Diana performing Hubble at The Bowery Poetry Club on 5th November 2008.


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      tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 3&4/19) by Dennis Kelly

      In discussion, submission on November 6, 2008 at 7:31 am
      CLEAVE POETICS 3&4 of 19
      
      3.
      “the energy of word art”
      —Clark Coolidge,
      Postmodern Poetry:
      The Talisman Interviews
      
         cleaving—against it
      seeing what—emerges
          writing—three-ways
      
         monsters—of the id
           ghosts—of the ego
         superego—doppelgangers
      
         the body—as movie
         dreaming—voyage imaginaire
        provoking—poetry
      
      i’m starved—i’m hungry
          the way—poets eat poets
         language—cleave du jour
      
      4.
      “wait and see
      what emerges…”
      —Clark Coolidge,
      Postmodern Poetry:
      The Talisman Interviews
      
             what’s happening—with cleaves?
               the difficulty—talking about them?
               designing them—as 3 texts in one
              suggesting that—their meaning
                somehow comes—from a “complex”?
      
                when actually—the artifice of cleaves
      performs simultaneously—paraphrasing
           the old surrealism—thru LangPo research
           into a new reading—worthy to be
              called American—parasurrealism…


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        Cleave of the Month October 2008 shortlist

        In cleave of the month on November 5, 2008 at 7:25 am

        **Poll closing date: 15th November – congratulations to Diana Manister for October’s Cleave of the Month**

        It’s that time again: (and as the USA is in the mood for voting) please vote for October 2008 Cleave of the Month from this shortlist.

        
        Whisper your name three times into the wind and it will go by Diana Manister
        (From Dancing with Mary Shelley and Henry James A Cleave Suite)
        
                                            to the land of titles - signs
                    and diaries drawings and stories - of love
                                               words describing - April's fragrance
                                             distant pictures of - real sun
                                                         showerless - showers
                            facsimilies of spring flowers - and bees in the buddleia
                      always a step away from places - feelings sensations
        nothing more wonderful than the word - wonder
                                     leaving behind a trace - a sigh
        
                                   whose name blew away - on a windy day
        ******
        
                   Maypole by Andrea Barton
        
                             The
        brightly colored - center - celebration of
                    spring - of - ribbons
                 held by - poems - this way
                  colors - are - dancing
                girls - maypoles - that way
                twirling - driven - skipping
              twisting - into - light steps of
                children - the - laughter and
                 hope - earth - in the sun
                           and
                            w
                            a
                            i
                            t
                            i
                            n
                            g
        
        ******
        
                        Argentina by Dennis Kelly
        
        “Los artificios y candor del hombre”
        —Jorge Luis Borges,
        “El golem”
        
          already you can see—the tragic setting
              each thing here—in its appointed place
               the broadsword—the ash destined for dido
                     the coin—ready for belisarius
              why do you weep—searching in lazy
        bronze old hexameters—gone old empires?
          when 7 feet of dirt—waits for you
         a slow rush of blood—Argentina
              watches you now—the mirror of death
              dreaming you up—spitting in your face
         all your crummy dayz—so bourgeois
         goodbye middle class—it was the house
                by the street—you grew up in
         but now peron, evita—Argentina
                wants it back—again
        
        ******
        
          All Along the Campaign Trail! by Jennifer Semple Siegel
        
               In the other gardens -- On the endless networks
               And all up the vale, -- And all through cyberspace,
           From the autumn bonfires -- From Springtime surprises
               See the smoke trail! -- Now see how they placed!
                                     *
               Pleasant summer over -- Conventions now passed
        And all the summer flowers, -- And all summer potshots,
               The red fire blazes, -- O'Biden blazes hot,
             The grey smoke towers. -- McPalin does not.
                                     *
            Sing a song of seasons! -- Sing a song of absurdity!
           Something bright in all! -- All frightful in Fall!
             Flowers in the summer, -- Hucksters all through Summer,
                 Fires in the fall! -- One winner nabs all!
        
        --Seed Poem: "Autumn Fires," Robert Louis Stevenson--
        


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        Bowery Poetry Club presents a night of poetry with Bill Berkson and Tony Towle

        In announcement, media on November 4, 2008 at 8:54 pm

        We would like to draw your attention to a very special event.

        Bowery Poetry Club presents a night of poetry on Thursday, December 4 at 8 PM at 308 Bowery, (Between Houston and Bleeker) New York.

        Bill Berkson and Tony Towle, notables of the second-generation New York School, will read from 50 years of their poetry. Berkson’s recent books include OUR FRIENDS WILL PASS AMONG YOU SILENTLY; a major book of poems that will appear from Coffee House next year. Towle’s most recent book is WINTER JOURNEY. For more info please call 212-614-0505 or visit bowerypoetry.com.

        Katelyn Maloney
        Media Director
        Bowery Poetry Club

        A Reminder: Diana Manister at Bowery Poetry Club

        In announcement on November 4, 2008 at 9:51 am

        **I’ll be reading my cleave suite: “Dancing with Mary Shelley and Henry James” at this performance. Hope to see you there! Diana”**

        Bowery Poetry Club

        Wednesday, November 5, 8 pm

        Tone Poem

        Featuring:

        John Farris
        Deborah LaVeglia
        Diana Manister
        Nick Matros
        Joe Maynard
        Susan Scutti

        $7 at door

        308 Bowery Street(Between Houston and Bleecker)
        F train to 2nd Ave, 6 to Bleecker

        New York

        212-614-0505

        http://www.bowerypoetry.com/


        The Truth and Lies of Lovers by K.M. Ryan

        In submission on November 4, 2008 at 7:57 am

        Welcome to a new contributor: K.M. Ryan with a rhyming cleave.

        The Truth and Lies of Lovers

        No, I’m not chasing – the truth in the lies, the chance

        dreams, so alluring – that without consequence

        they remain recurring, – would ruin all thought of romance

        until they sting, – until words are lost in a frozen glance,

        *

        until these eyes lose their fire – until love loses its luster

        but I could chase a desire – reducing a reality to a blur,

        if the circumstances should require, – may a change of heart occur,

        that a lover be reduced to a liar – to conjure any truth I could muster.

        #268

        KM Ryan, 19, college student, have written poetry for about 7 years, took a few months off over the summer to focus on other activities. KM Ryan’s poetry can be found at: Mind on Display.

        • (Previously here).

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        Cleave by Andrea Barton

        In discussion, submission on November 3, 2008 at 7:48 am
                              Cleave
        
                          It isA- joining of words
                A fusion and -cleave– separated by
        oddly, a division thatis– a physical gap
                     ruptures -the – eye’s path
           the rhythm hereopposite- to a smooth
                joint venture -of- meaning
              in clutching -itself- as one


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          cleAving it by Dennis Kelly for k. m. ryan

          In submission on November 2, 2008 at 4:41 pm

          cleAving it —  for k. m. ryan

          
          
                    jeez—intricate
              imagine—being able
           forgetting—to do
              thinking—3-ways
               doing it—doing it now
            writing it—cleaving it
          intuiting it—the hyphens
                    now—your guides


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          tHe mAgic typEwritEr (cleave poetics 2/19) by Dennis Kelly

          In submission on November 2, 2008 at 8:42 am
          CLEAVE POETICS 2 of 19
          
          2.
          
          “I remember waking up one
          morning with the look of that
          page in my mind.”
          —Clark Coolidge,
          Postmodern Poetry:
          The Talisman Interviews
          
          i wake up—in the morning
          with the page—in my mind
          the layout of—the cleave
          long-lines—becoming one
          
          the cleave voice—sketching
          provoking me—to visualize
          the phantom page—again
          the usual way—linking lines
          
          the overall—arrangements
          pages waiting—patiently
          to be written—to be typed
          creating them—back again
          
          cleaving—the darkness
          improvisational—incognito
          fingers typing—magic keyboard
          words of light—onto a screen
          


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            tHe mAgic typEwritEr by Dennis Kelly

            In submission on November 1, 2008 at 7:42 am
            CLEAVE POETICS 1 of 19
            
            tHe mAgic typEwritEr
            “It is a parasurrealism
            that examines its own
            lyrical structure…
            a lively, dramatic
            edginess, a visceral
            sense of “being there.”
            —Charles Borkhuis,
            “Writing from Inside Language:
            Late Surrealism and Textual Poetry
            in France and the United States,”
            Telling It Aslant:Avant-Garde
            Poetics of the 1990s 
            1.
            
            “How much of poetry is
            unprovoked thought?”
            —Clark Coolidge,
            The Crystal Text
            
                what provokes—cleavage?
                  that which is—blank?
                 a new kind of—line?
                     three lines—in one?
            
                       how to be—simultaneous?
                      three-way—at the same time?
                   rearranging—past present future?
                       writing it—into a new tense?
            
                          picasso—does it
                       juan gris—does it
                    kandinsky—does it
                         braque—does it
            
                       but what—do they do?
                    do they do—cubism?
            or does cubism—do them?
                    provoking—such cleavage?
            

            (Previously here).
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            The Cleave October 2008 update

            In announcement on November 1, 2008 at 7:28 am

            Another month, only our second, and we have reached a new high point: Ron Silliman mentioning us on his extremely popular poetry blog. However, our greatest assets are our cleave poets themselves. Thank you so much.

            Let us aim to go onward and upward. I believe success is a by-product of trying.

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