The Concept of Pervasive Evil – by Ashley Bovan

dissatisfaction	sanctification
insatiableness	spartan
saturnalian	sagittarian
satyromania	sacramentarian
spermatozoan	sanitation
instantaneous	safetyman
supernaturalness	statistician
scatterbrained	systematization
sabotaging	establishmentarian
slaughterman	samaritan
skateboarding	statesmanship

double column – Ira Lightman

Ira Lightman has been experimenting with cleave-like poetic forms – double columning.

Here is a link to his youtube channel: Ira Lightman double column

Here is his Ebook: iralightman at ubu

Here is his website: iralightman.com

The Moviegoer by Dennis Kelly

“There is a clock that never strikes.
There is a cathedral that goes down
and a lake that goes up.”
—Arthur Rimbaud, “Childhood,”
Illuminations

Once upon a time—I was a boy
Dead in the rosebushes—all summer
I had black eyes—and a yellow mop
Without parents—or a royal court

I was insolent—running along
Azure and verdure beaches—full of
Shipless waves—Greek, Slav, Celt
Shades in the balcony—of the Bijou

Actresses—gorgeous giantesses
Ida Lupino—up on the silver screen
Pilgrimages to—that other Land
Where princesses—were tyrannical

Sultanas—Hollywood queen bees
Strolling in the aisles—jewels glowing
In the dark—red velvet curtains in
The little theaters—like the Granada

Without boredom—those verdigris hours
Who needed a western sky—for sunsets?
With all the moviegoers—buried upright
In the balconies—overgrown with images

The curtains going up—fabulous elegance
Reels turning—sluice gates opening
The magic beasts—eternity of hot tears
The smell of popcorn—it made me blush

But now I am—the troubled scholar
Sitting in this dark armchair—brooding
Branches and rain—beating themselves
At the windows—of my quiet library

Even with Blue Ray—giant Flatscreens
I am just a pedestrian—dwarfed now in
Melancholy silence—abandoned child
On the jetty—left behind by high seas

(First published here).

Newborn by Lauren McBride

So tired	Of baby’s tears
Up late again	I grow weary
Why do you cry, my little son?	Are you hungry?
Are you wet?	Too hot? Too cold?
Here, let Mama hold you	It’s late. Please go to sleep.
He stares at me	Then he coos
and sucks his thumb	lays his head on my shoulder
relaxes in my arms, asleep	his hair so soft against my cheek.
Good night, my little one	Sweet dreams. I love you.

Lauren McBride’s work has appeared in the contest chapbook the Drabbler #14, the Aurorean, Mom Writer’s Literary Magazine, and online in various Ezines. She was chosen first runner-up in Crossed Genres’ flash fiction contest of July 2009 for her story, “Go-Green Grass”.

Cleave of The Month August 2009

A year since The Cleave began is a good time to resume Cleave of The Month.

As stated before we will be awarding GBP25 to the cleave of the month from now on, and it will be chosen by the Editor.

It is hard choosing between the great cleaves especially these 3:

• The New Tree by Dennis Kelly

• Down by the Lake by Ashley Bovan

• In Such a Place as This, by Jessica Lafortune

in the end the decision was:

Down by the Lake by Ashley Bovan

Under a nearby weeping willow	a flock of geese pad and poke
a push-chair rattles along	Alice wipes mud from an off-green park bench
two bedlam kids squawking	then she rests
Vicious seagulls hunt for sandwich fragments	Exhaust fumes, and hums and grinds, from the morning motor-rush waft over
Alice fidgets and then heads off to the rose gardens	a discarded sheet of kitchen roll sticks to her shoe
The flowers sway like nodding dogs in the backs of cars	She listens to echoing Greensleeves again and again piping out from the ice cream van over on the promenade
Up-wind an old boy fires up his acrid briar	it’s time to move on
She takes the tarmac path around and up to the rockery tasting the hint of salt blown in from the bay	A brittle crisp packet rattles, trapped in an exclamation-mark-like tree
She wanders through the patterns of rocks	Her arms droop by her side
and she catches her hand on a clump of nettles	Reluctantly, she prepares herself for the long walk home

Ashley Bovan lives and writes in Cardiff and starts studying for an MA

in Creative Writing at Lancaster University in October 2009.

His website is www.ashley-bovan.co.uk

The New Tree by Dennis Kelly

“I was planning a novel

in which two different

species on another world

needed to communicate,

one by light and image,

the other by sound & word”

—ptdiep

they cleaved me—back again

I don’t know how—but they did it

one into two—then two into one

the two that was—too much for me

the two that was one—troubling me

a unique collaboration—doubling me

the denouement of one world—dying

this exsanguination—of another world

all that was not me—my own doing undone

this strange doubling—this unique

collaboration of light & image—joining

sound and words—heads & tails

pairs of I Ching coins—yin yang

tossed in the air—thrown on a rug

split down the middle—joined as one

a pair of trigrams—magic hexagram

t’ai / peace—my laughing bellybutton

rubbing buddha’s belly—making a wish

for me it was—the new me

goodbye to all that—that wasn’t me

there in bed—new jonah and lazarus

contemplating—collaborating

The Healing Tree by Dennis Kelly

“The concept was already

within me, it was inevitable”

—ptdiep

they cleaved the tree—inside me

the murmuring of death—that was me

and I dreamed—of another world

it was my doppelganger—double trouble

and when I woke up—I wasn’t me

I was lost in—the house of pain

a mansion with—many dark rooms

many dark rooms—waiting for the other

teaching me—what I surely didn’t know

nor did I want to know—the hell inside

cut bones, split muscles—bloody nerves

it was all a big mistake—I said to myself

wishing I’d never—made the choice

it sounded so simple—just a valve job

a mere tune-up—and you’ll be brand new

but it wasn’t that easy—pain-killers don’t

kill the pain—pain had its own plans for me

and for a week—pain pinned me down

like an Indian swami—to a bed of nails

I screamed silently—beneath a moon

a thousand nights—Maria Ouspenskya werewolves

no longer a man—more a wounded animal

and they saved my life—for another day

Parachute: The Coney Island Performance Festival

First Annual Literary and Performance Festival

September 12^th and 13^th 2009

Free and Open to One and All

Two Days of poetry, prose, spoken word, performance and jelly fish in Coney Island

Free for one & all

Saturday September 12^{th, @ 6:30pm}

Sunday September 13^{th@ 6:30pm}

At the New York Aquarium

Alien Stingers Exhibit (after hours)

In Coney Island

Surf Avenue at West 8^th Street

By Subway:

F, Q to West 8th Street stop

F, Q, N, D to Stillwell Avenue stop

Featuring:

Saturday

Hosted by visual artist and performer, Africasso

Cara Benson

Charles Denson, author of Coney Island: Lost and Found

Jibade Khalil Huffman, author of 19 Names for our Band

Dennis Nurkse, former Brooklyn Poet Laureate

Akilah Oliver

Patricia Spears Jones

Sunday

Hosted by the illustrious burlesque dancer, Angie Pontani (a.k.a. Miss Cyclone)

Edmund Berrigan, poet and member of the band, I Feel Tractor

Michael Cirelli, poet and founder of Urban Word

Eileen Myles, poet, author, ran for president as a write-in candidate.

Edwin Torres

John Ventimiglia (“Artie Bucco” from the Sopranos) reading Henry Miller’s words on Coney Island

Parachute: the Coney Island Performance Festival is the first of an annual literary and performance festival in historic Coney Island. It is a community based festival focusing on Brooklyn artists. The Coney Island Performance Festival takes place the second weekend in September—Saturday and Sunday, September 12th and 13th.

Since its inception, Coney Island has played host to a magnificent array of theatre, performance, poetry, dance, and literature. A naked Walt Whitman read Shakespeare to the Atlantic Ocean; Cary Grant was a stilt walker at Steeplechase Park; Woody Guthrie strummed his guitar on Mermaid Avenue; Bread and Puppet Theatre was in residence in the 1970’s and Coney Island USA has been a theatrical presence and Coney Island fixture for nearly thirty years.

The essential aspects to the Coney Island Performance Festival are a literary and performance stage, and an afternoon of free poetry workshops held at the Coney Island branch of the New York Public Library led by artists participating in the festival.  The literary stage will be located in the Aquarium, in front of the jelly fish tank.  Readings will begin at 6:30pm both nights and feature a wide array of established and up-and-coming Brooklyn based poets and writers. Highlights include performance poet, Patricia Spears Jones, John Ventimiglia from the Sopranos reading Henry Miller, post-punk poet Eileen Myles and the former Brooklyn Poet Laureate, Dennis Nurkse.

Saturday evening’s reading will be hosted by the legendary local artist, Africasso. Sunday evening’s reading will be hosted by the illustrious burlesque performer, Angie Pontani (a.k.a. Miss Cyclone.) A festival program with a map will highlight local history and architecture and draw people to local businesses.

Free poetry workshops Saturday, September 12^th will be led by Urban Word, Patricia Spears Jones and Cara Benson at the Coney Island Public Library on Mermaid

Avenue and 19^th Street.

Goals:

Parachute: the Coney Island Performance Festival brings literary and theatre arts to the Coney Island neighborhood that aren’t otherwise accessible to residents, while also drawing an arts audience to Coney Island from the greater New York area to see exciting new productions. Participating artists will offer workshops, free of charge, to all who would like to attend. Additionally, the festival aims to highlight the history of Coney Island, while simultaneously bringing people to discover what the present Coney Island has to offer.  The goal is to create something new and create a bridge over the whole neighborhood—east and west. Festival goers can come, spend the day, walk around Coney Island, see a theatre piece, eat lunch at a local restaurant, ride the Cyclone and enjoy a poetry reading.

Locations:

The New York Aquarium

Coney Island Public Library

www.ciparachutefestival.com (ready in late August)

parachutefestival@gmail.com

Payment for Cleave Poem of the Month

To celebrate The Cleave’s anniversary I will be changing how the Cleave of the Month will be run:

• Payment of GBP25 for the Cleave of the Month
• I will choose my favourite poem each month
• The usual submission guidelines apply
• The changes will start from this month (the cleaves already published this month will be considered).

Seventy Years Before by Romella Kitchens

	Seventy Years Before
An earring falls from a pear tree		the gift of moments is within this
	Old man, what say you?
The earring was from a maiden		a slight girl who climbed the tree
	In what century was your longing?
She climbed to meet her lover.		You were young then, too.
The earring was lost in a kiss.	We cling to our “historical” limbs.	Her skin was  sun-hued
She came the next day		you left not to be found
	Old man, was your fear in “more”?
A century later the earring falls		a woman looks over a great wall
A woman clasps it  as if…	To hold on is to know…	yet, you gather yellow pears and…
	Go home.

Romella Kitchens has had poetry published in Iodine Poetry Review, The California Quarterly, Chiron Review, Lilliput Review, Ship Of Fools and others. She has four published chapbooks. The latest chapbook was published by Pudding House Press in April of 2009 and is titled: “The Red Covered Bridge.”

Down by the Lake – by Ashley Bovan

Under a nearby weeping willow	a flock of geese pad and poke
a push-chair rattles along	Alice wipes mud from an off-green park bench
two bedlam kids squawking	then she rests
Vicious seagulls hunt for sandwich fragments	Exhaust fumes, and hums and grinds, from the morning motor-rush waft over
Alice fidgets and then heads off to the rose gardens	a discarded sheet of kitchen roll sticks to her shoe
The flowers sway like nodding dogs in the backs of cars	She listens to echoing Greensleeves again and again piping out from the ice cream van over on the promenade
Up-wind an old boy fires up his acrid briar	it’s time to move on
She takes the tarmac path around and up to the rockery tasting the hint of salt blown in from the bay	A brittle crisp packet rattles, trapped in an exclamation-mark-like tree
She wanders through the patterns of rocks	Her arms droop by her side
and she catches her hand on a clump of nettles	Reluctantly, she prepares herself for the long walk home

Ashley Bovan lives and writes in Cardiff and starts studying for an MA

in Creative Writing at Lancaster University in October 2009.

His website is www.ashley-bovan.co.uk

In Such a Place as This, by Jessica Lafortune

even in this	godforsaken place
there is stirring evidence	of life, like
the frog who came	just after the rain
and remains still	clinging to the glass
the lizards	beating a path to safety
rustling in the grass	outside my door
the squirrels	giving chase
playing tag	recklessly
in the street	irrespective of cars
and then there is me	alive, barely
running in place	depending on the day

Oxford Alum and HBO Def Poet Taylor Mali Releases New Book

Please join us for the book release party of Taylor Mali’s “The Last Time as We Are” on Wednesday, September 9th 8-9:30 p.m. at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, (Between Houston and Bleecker). Admission of $8 includes a discount on your purchase of the book. Special guests & rare appearances. For more info please call 212-614-0505 or bowerypoetry.com.

Taylor Mali is one of the most well-known poets to have emerged from the poetry slam movement. After studying drama at Oxford with members of The Royal Shakespeare Company, Mali was one of the original poets to appear on the HBO series Russel Simmons Presents Def Poetry and was the “Armani-clad villain” of Paul Devlin’s 1997 documentary film SlamNation. He is a vocal advocate of teachers and the nobility of teaching, having himself spent nine years as a teacher. His New Teacher Project has a goal of creating 1,000 new teachers through “poetry, persuasion, and perseverance”. He is the author of two books of poetry, “The Last Time As We Are” (2009) and “What Learning Leaves” (2002), as well as four CDs of spoken word. He received a New York Foundation for the Arts Grant in 2001 to develop Teacher! Teacher! a one-man show about poetry, teaching, and math which won the jury prize for best solo performance at the 2001 Comedy Arts Festival. Formerly president of Poetry Slam, Inc., the non-profit organization that oversees all poetry slams in North America, Taylor Mali makes his living entirely as a spoken-word and voiceover artist these days, traveling around the country performing and teaching workshops as well as doing occasional commercial voiceover work. He has narrated several books on tape, including The Great Fire (for which he won the Golden Earphones Award for children’s narration).

Horace said the “task of the poet is to instruct or entertain,” and it would be difficult to find a poet who more fully embodies this vision than Taylor Mali. In this latest collection, Mali’s work buzzes, hums, snaps and zaps, the tour-de-force of Mali on stage having been properly captured and catalogued on the page. You don’t need a classroom to be a teacher, and you don’t need to be a teacher to help someone learn a lesson. Taylor Mali’s poetry explores this truth in entertaining and plainspoken ways, giving readers “what they need before they knew they needed it” (“Miracle Workers”). The poems contained in “The Last Time As We Are” prove that “He who seeks to teach must never cease to learn.”

Billy Collins, United States Poet Laureate, says, “Not since Taylor Mali, has there been a poet of the likes of Taylor Mali, which is to say he is a man of unique properties. He is tagged as a performance poet, but his performances, rather than being frontal assaults, are leavened by charm and wit and could survive happily on the page.”

Bowery Poetry Club

Carbon River Valley by Dennis Kelly

The way the light—slants downward
Northward over—the mountain range
The escarpments—the forested ridges
A winter light—low over the river

Mostly we were there—during summers
Parking the car—on the road leading into
The rainforest—on the northern side of
Mt. Rainier—covered with fir and cedars

Ten years ago—we hiked across ancient
Riverbeds of smooth—rounded boulders
And white-bleached stones—and rocks
To get to Chenuis Falls—on the other side

Standing in the middle—between the two
Sides of a long swath of—glacial debris
Looking up at the ancient—granite towers
From down below—terminal moraine awe

One could hear the river—the mountains
Communing—with each other like Forces
In the I Ching—caught up in hexagramic
Flow of huge spaces—both old and new

Pausing for a cold beer—in the shadow of
Some giant boulder—leaning back and
Looking up at it all—our time together
So brief and fine—like a snapshot

Bowery Poetry Club Live Performance

Collaborations
Spoken Word and Music
Janet Hamill and Bryan Hamill, music, performing together from “Body Of Water”

Join them and their special guests,
Diana Manister with music by Steve Cialino

and Larissa Shmailo with music by Brant Lyon
Saturday, July 25, 4 p.m.
Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery, NYC
212-614-0505
$5

Summer Institute of Social Justice and Applied Poetics featuring Patricia Smith at the Bowery Poetry Club

Please join us for an evening of poetry with Patricia Smith, 2008 National Book Award Finalist and champion slam poet, on Saturday, July, 8th 6-7:30 p.m., at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, (Between Houston and Bleecker). For more info please call 212-614-0505 or bowerypoetry.com.

The Summer Institute of Social Justice and Applied Poetics is a free seven week workshop for New York City teens. Contact Urban Word NYC for more information at info@urbanwordnyc.org.

Patricia Smith’s fifth book of poetry, Blood Dazzler (Coffee House Press) chronicles the human, physical and emotional toll exacted by Hurricane Katrina. Patricia is also the author of Teahouse of the Almighty (Coffee House Press), a National Poetry Series winner, and the Best Poetry Book of 2006 on About.com. Her poems have appeared in Poetry, The Paris Review, Harvard Divinity Bulletin, and other journals. Recognized as one of the world’s most formidable performers, Patricia has read her work at venues round the world. In the U.S., she’s performed at places such as Carnegie Hall and the Palm Beach Poetry Festival, and has previously shared the stage with noted writers such as Adrienne Rich, Allen Ginsberg, and “Lord of the Rings” star Viggo Morgensen. Patricia is a four-time national individual champion of the notorious and wildly popular Poetry Slam, the most successful competitor in slam history. She was featured in the nationally-released film “Slamnation,” and appeared on the award-winning HBO series “Def Poetry Jam.”

The Summer Institute of Social Justice and Applied Poetics is designed for young leaders, activists, poets, writers, emcees and scholars to engage the intersection between art, academics and activism. Students will explore and assess ways that critical social dialogue, the poetry of resistance, and social activism can ignite and incite change in their communities. By examining social movements from the past, and uncovering the issues that directly affect our communities, students will develop theories, poems and responses that will affect social change for today. The Summer Institute is produced by Urban Word NYC and Bowery Arts and Science.

Call for submissions: collaborative cleave poems in the Cleave Matrix

We are looking for poets to collaborate and create cleave poems together online, for anyone to watch.

For many the thought goes against the grain – creating something that is not entirely their own.

There is a level of vulnerability also.

There is also the possibility of doing something new, catching the edge of a new wave.

There are other collaborative poetry projects such as likestarlings, mygorgeoussomwhere, poetrycollaborative.

For those willing to get involved please email cleavepoetry @ gmail dot com with Cleave Matrix in the email title line.

I will then pair you up with another poet.

The poems that pass muster will be published here in The Cleave.

Bowery Poetry Club Records Live!!!

Bowery Poetry Club Records Live!!!

Featuring: Gary Glazner, John Giorno, Tahani Salah, Marjorie Tesser, Kristin Prevallet, and Cynthia Kraman

On Sunday, May 24 Bowery Poetry Club Records will be recording a group of some of the most talented poets in New York as they perform at the Bowery Poetry Club. The show will be from 4-7pm, and will include readings by Gary Glazner, John Giorno, Tahani Salah, Marjorie Tesser, Kristin Prevallet, and Cynthia Kraman.

Gary Glazner produced the first National Poetry Slam in San Francisco. His poetry has appeared in anthologies, periodicals, on CD, radio, television, and underwater on the Bay Area Rapid Transit system. His poems have been translated into Chinese, Moldavian, Nepali, and Vietnamese. Glazner is the Minister of Fun for Poetry Slam Incorporated. He is currently the managing director of the Bowery Poetry Club.

In 1968, John Giorno founded Giorno Poetry Systems in order to connect poetry to new audiences, using innovative technology. Some of the poets and artists who recorded or collaborated with Giorno Poetry Systems were William Burroughs, John Ashbery, Ted Berrigan, Patti Smith, Laurie Anderson, Philip Glass, Robert Rauschenberg and Robert Mapplethorpe. In 1982 he made the album Who Are You Staring At? with Glenn Branca^[1] and is prominently featured in Ron Mann’s 1982 film Poetry in Motion. In addition to his collaborations with William Burroughs, Giorno has produced a number of albums, tapes, videos and books. In 2007 he appeared in Nine Poems in Basilicata, a film directed by Antonello Faretta based on his poems and his performances.

Tahani Salah was a member of the 2007 Nuyorican National Slam Team, has worked with Urban World NYC for the last 8 years and is now the Youth Outreach Coordinator for Urban World NYC, and has performed across the world, including at the Apollo and on HBO’s Def Poetry Jam. As a Palestinian-American Muslim woman, Tahani is committed to bringing light and solutions to problems faced by people from communities and experiences whose voices are silenced.

Marjorie Tesser is the editor of Bowery Books, an independent poetry press, as well as the publisher for the journal The Mom Egg. She has won the inaugural Firewheel Chapbook Award for her manuscript The Important Thing Is…, she produced Bowery Women: Shoot the Poem! Video-poetry Festival, and has been featured at the Howl Festival of East Village Art.

Kristin Prevallet is a poet, essayist, performer, and educator whose literary focus is to integrate political and personal consciousness into radical poetic forms. She has taught poetry and poetics, critical thinking and close reading at NYU, The New School, Bard College, and Naropa University. She is currently teaching in the Institute for Writing Studies at St. John’s University in Queens, NY. She has received a 2007 New York Foundation for the Arts fellowship in Poetry and a 2004 PEN translation fund award.

Cynthia Kraman’s new book of poetry is The Touch (Bowery Books 2009). Her previous collections are Taking on the Local Color (Wesleyan University Press 1977), Club 82 (1979) and The Mexican Murals (eg press, 1986). She formed the band Chinas Comidas with Rich Riggins in Seattle in the late seventies, and a CD of their live and studio recordings was released in 2006. She has a doctorate in medieval literature from the University of London, Queen Mary, and lives in New York City.

Bowery Poetry Club Records has already released two compilation albums comprised of some of the best poets and bands that perform at the Bowery Poetry Club. All of Bowery Poetry Club Records materials can be downloaded from i-Tunes. Be sure to check out www.bowerypoetryclubrecords.com for more information about Bowery Poetry Club Records, as well as the artists on the label.

Lunatic by Jessica Lafortune

driving	on empty
aimlessly	restless
crazy	as the full moon
shadowing	reflecting
all that	I pass
is	meaningless
temporal	vanity
like	a lunatic in the land of
midnight	sun
I am	alone
vanishing	in depravity

A cleave by any other name…Part 5: Orchestrations in Perceptionalism by RH Peat

I wrote a form very similar to this back 1996, In fact it was a complete book called “Thin Shadows” But it had a third part as well of a small topic poem attached to what you are calling a cleave poem. There were 80 full page poems in the book dealing on all kinds of subject, I’d be happy to share some of them with you if you would like to see some of them. I only self published 50 books at the time I compiled the book out here in California. I only have one copy left now. Interesting that you were doing the same thing back there around the same time. RH Peat

Preface “Thin Shadows”
To help the reader with my Orchestrations in Perceptionalism, I might say that syntax has been surrendered completely for the benefit of a type of free flowing parameter of consciousness, for there are several poems interlaced together with one poem-structure. There are at least four different poems intersecting upon one-another in different ways throughout any of the simplest of these poem -structures. There is a basic concept of reading from left to right and from top to bottom that is still carried throughout the poem-structures.

Because each phrase or word-grouping is to be read in more than one direction (either horizontally or vertically within columns downward or through continuous lines across he page). Syntax was somewhat bypassed for multiple kinds of meanings and uses within these groupings and phrases upon the field of a particular poem -structure’s particular subject matter. Although the writing may appear quite similar to stream of consciousness, I do believe I have managed to maintain a parameter of understanding upon a specific subject or topic of concern.

It is quite true this type of fracturing tends to appeal more to the connotative of the quantum experience rather than the denotative found within the overall scene flow of a narrative story-line, but I do believe that there are beginnings, middles (turnings), and endings throughout the poem-structures. My overall concern whoever was to appeal to the subconscious mind more directly rather than the conscious mind.

Abstractly speaking it is kind of like looking through a magazine quickly until you snag yourself upon something that identifies to your inner concerns—Then you delve into the subject matter more deeply; the diversity is still all contained or maintained in the parameters of the book-binding of the magazine. Unlike a magazine however I do fell that I have put a much tighter and more specific concern upon subject matter and/or top identification.

I must state that this is all terribly experimental within its written structural sense but actually more closely related to the common thinking process involved in and found inside light conversation or an informal letter: Personal letter writing where things tend to drift around a bit.

So at first you might have the feeling that you have walked into the middle of a conversation; it may sometimes be a bit disorienting at first glance until you get the gist of the conversation. I do believe this poetry itself is a bit more fractured in appearance than these other forms of consciousness by the breaking-up of the verses into various short picturesque imagery, and its quick motion-picture like movement of sudden changes like movie vignettes; In another way, it is also more condensed by the use of this picturesque imagery compressed into a static compacted-completeness as a single painting or photograph might appeal to the senses. Nevertheless the lines within the poem-structures are like stepping stones that lead you around and throughout the same walled garden. Stepping stones leading you toward more of an illumination of the experience rather than an understanding of the experience within any particular wall of the garden: i. e.

Morning rock-wall laughs silently/     A smoking man coughs
A steamy glass rises in ferns/     Cigarette shaded night into ashes
Sunlight unveils it’s burnt curtain/    Torn pack and opened book
A silky ghost gown takes flight/    A sky scratched blue flair
Yawn into transparent dove wings/     A quick match struck dawn
(a) side                                                      (b) side

(c ) construction
A Thin Shadow— coughed echo leaves
he stops to draw-up a sudden light
A moments rest from his worked earth
Awe unveils a silent laugh of delight
flashed match touched to cigarette tip
His flame bitten breath into ash will ignite
As smoke and steam curtains curl-up
Pulled root from the slow garden night
Outstretched fern arm into the lit dawn
Just as the rock-wall turns into sunlight
Dew and exhaled lugs become phantoms
Ghost wings opened into morning flight

One poem-structure is made up of several internal poems including the “A Thin Shadow” poem which can act as a prologue or an epilogue to any or the poems: 1(a ) side is a poem, 2. (b) side is a poem,  3. the lines of both poems  (a+b) read together horizontally into a single combined line are yet another poem. 4. Or yet another poem is the combined poems (a+b) read as two columns one read after the other. 5. The (A Thin Shadow) poem is a spin off of the overall umbrella of all the other poems: a shadow of some of the overall concept that is scattered throughout the total poem-structure.

Hopefully this is enough to get the reader started upon the adventure within my book. The voyage into what I would like to call my “Orchestrations in Perceptualism.” Perceptualism being the presentation of many perceptions simultaneously as all the instruments of an Orchestra combine their efforts together to play an opus in concert. Not that words don’t offer this concept within an individual poem, but here it is separate poems rather than words that are orchestrated in concert rather than single words.

Call for submissions of video cleave poems

We are looking for videos of poets performing/reading their cleave poems, either in private or to an audience.

Either email me a clip or a youtube link.

To begin with here are youtube links of Diana Manister reading at The Bowery Club and Phuoc-Tan Diep reading at The Poetry Society Cafe.

Tree Dream by Dennis Kelly

Tree Dream

—for Phuoc-Tan, Diana, Jennifer & Laurie

last night—i dreamed of yggdrasil

the world tree—over on the coast

there I was—in the hoh river rain forest

by a secluded cabin—deep in the woode

i was standing—on this open porch

there with this tree—a huge thick tree

it was a douglas fir—a sky-high tree

it had crevices—with cleaves going up

thru its dark bark—heavy primitive veins

the giant douglas fir look—the world tree

unlike tall cedars—its skin corrugated

and around this fir—flying birds

crows eagles—woodpeckers seagulls

all of them feasting—engorging themselves

in the crevices and—in the old bark cleaves

I looked closer—what were they eating

thousands of slithering—singing cicadas

cicadas crawling—inching their way

up the sides—up the giant douglas fir tree

flocks of hungry birds—thousands of them

feasting themselves—all the singing bugs

the whole forest—full of wings & loudness

singing cicadas—almost deafening

and there i was—in the middle of it

the tree—the birds, the cicadas…

so that’s how—yggdrasil is me

I said to myself—slowly waking up

(First here).

Floating Hope by Jessica Lafortune

between	living for them and
carving out a niche of	my own
lies	elusive balance
between	birth and death
past and future	lies
living	in the present now
I struggle	to find joy
in the mundane	tame the angst within
running around	the paddle wheel
maintaining	serene, clean
days decaying	hours trapped
like a fish	behind glass
a dead man	floating hope
martyred	for the pleasure of others

Jessica Lafortune lives in Florida, loved by humans and canines who (barely) tolerate her obsessive reading and writing habits. Her current fantasy involves living on an island in the Pacific Northwest, reading and writing to her heart’s content, supported by lottery winnings. Until then, she can be found substitute teaching, writing poetry, playing blackjack, and loving well those who know her best and keep coming back for more. Her poems can be found in Amaze, Simply Haiku and Babel Fruit.

The cintanquainka poetic form by Michael Williams

A Whole New Form

this verse

bright as a diamond

introduces

a brand-new combination

the cintanquainka form

made for all my friends

two classic forms combined in one

as a twist of something new

spin out a cintanquainka

try it

***

This idea was sparked by a mistaken comment in a Cinquain thread about using Tanka form. It triggered a thought and I was off. This is a combination of a Cinquain and a Tanka, mixing the two syllable requirements. I’ve juggled the mixing of the lines just a bit, so it begins and ends with a two syllable line in order to make a poetry game using it work better. This also happens to keep the classic tanka pair of 7-syllable lines together.

The syllable count by line is:

2 / 5 / 4 / 7 / 6 / 5 / 8 / 7 / 7 / 2

Just because I have a twisted mind, I made my first two posts a Cleave Poem of sorts: the Cinquain lines can be read as one verse and the Tanka lines as another or the whole can be read as one verse. Michael Williams.

There are voices by Chris Bryan

there are voices	in hidden places
that are whispering	across the world
of all these things	i have seen
so i listen and wait for	the beginning
the revolution	of love

First published here.

Chris Bryan is a 26-year old American living in the UK.  I am a ‘cellist, composer and stay-at-home dad, and I write poems, short stories and song lyrics when I feel inspired.

The editor reading a cleave poem: migration

The Editor (Phuoc-Tan Diep) reading a cleave poem “Migration” at Premieres and Poetry: Migration

A cleave by any other name…Part 4: Triptych

I was doing what you call cleave poetry in the late 90's with the poetry group centered in Arlington Heights, IL. We called the poems triptychs because they could be read three ways. We also did wreath poems which shared words or phrases at the top and bottom but could be read three ways and V poems which shared only one word or phrase at the top or bottom. What you have done is create a movement and named the poetic type which is quite an accomplishment. Our group performed at Barnes and Noble, Borders, various coffee houses and the Green Mill where Marc Smith, the founder of slam poetry has his performances.

Richard Dates

rain–of poetry by Richard Dates

this poem is	my writing
about the rain	which forms patterns
in the air	dripping down
a gray presence	through time
a long affair	like a kind of scroll
sacred	not planned
by its wetness	promoting growth
penetrating	to some kind of root
deep into everything	but with no clear purpose
softening the light	diffusing its path
then drifting away	toward some unknown destination

A cleave poem for Dennis Kelly: Mountain Whispers, by Phuoc-Tan Diep

A cleave poem: Mountain Whispers.

“The first robins are here now, the little green crocus swords have worked their way upward, the first pink buds of the cherry trees are ready to bloom.” Dennis Kelly

when our mountain cries	- this
our waterfall	- I know all this is you
the crocus tips	- your fingertips
tender	- stretch up
bend gently and	- from the earth
the mountain’s breath	- your breath
stirs the trees, I see	- your eyes
beyond the leaves	- a face in
my hands	- outlines
in the sky	- Is that you or
the first robin singing	- the mountain whispers?

Premieres and Poetry: The Cleave editor at The Poetry Cafe, Covent Garden

Phuoc-Tan Diep will be performing 2 poems at the Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden next week:

A New Book by Ernesto P. Santiago: The Poet Who Asked The Birds How To Fly

Hello Poetry Enthusiasts!

I am pleased to announce that “The Poet Who Asked The Birds How To Fly” is now available, worldwide, through most major book outlets / distributors such as Amazon and BarnesandNoble. See below the book webpage link and Excerpts From Reviews.

Book webpage:

http://outskirtspress.com/thepoetwhoaskedthebirdshowtofly

Excerpts from Reviews

“Making a corrective suggestion to Ernesto’s work is a rarity since he knows exactly what he wants to express and conveys to his readers. I can truly state with confidence while reading poems by this expressive, eloquent and enlightening poet, the reader will always advance in stature with love in their hearts, joy in their souls, with a gift freely given by a man of poetic knowledge who pens universal truth.”

Rhoda Galgiani

Poet, Long Island, NY, USA

Founding Member of Globals Poets Guild

“This rhythmical poetic volume brings to light such an elegant artistry, in terms of Ernesto’s adoption of eloquence and symbolic imagery for dramatic poetic enunciation. His interpretation of imaginative language and the use of stimulating and uplifting words for the soul will move the reader to another level that is soothing to the mind with words of loving pleasability, and dancing creativity, as poetic language should.”

Dr. Joseph S. Spence, Sr.

Goodwill

Ambassador State of Arkansas

Founder of the Epulaeryu Form of Poetry

***

Thank you for your attention,

Ernesto P. Santiago

Cleave Generation

Andrea Barton, a cleave poet, has introduced cleave poetry to her school (RHAM High School, Hebron, CT) where she teaches creative writing.

It has engaged students who have never written poetry before.

Are these students the poets of the future?

Cleave Generation is a site for students of all ages to explore, discuss and experiment with poetry, specifically cleave poetry.

*No experience needed*

“I did want to let you know that a “Cleave craze” has begun at my school. First, I required all of my CW students to try a basic one. From there, they can’t seem to stop, and I have other teachers approaching me in the hallways telling me of what their kids, who aren’t even in CW, are doing!” Andrea Barton Creative Writing teacher RHAM High School.

“I was never really that big into poetry until I took a creative writing class with a teacher who is posted on your website Andrea Barton. The first time she showed us her cleaves I thought it to be mind boggling,…” Michelle Lynn Bernard, student RHAM High School.

Cleave – pause

The Cleave webzine will be taking a month long pause.

We will be back on or around the 24th April 2009.

Feel free to contact the editor, who will reply when he can.

Thank you for your support.

Mt. Fuji / Mt. Rainier by Dennis Kelly

Mt. Fuji / Mt. Rainier
*
in the evening—darkness sunsets
untouched by—freeway headlights
a seagull flies—flying upward
aspiration for heights—clouds tailing
across the face—Mt. Fuji / Rainier

*

(Tanka-cleave, first published at snarke.com: tanka-cleaving).

Mt. Rainier by Dennis Kelly

Mt. Rainier

“when I compose poetry

I compose only for myself”

—Nakamura Kasatao

*

I’m obscure—insignificant

my cleaves—immature

my expression—inadequate

the falling rain—how far

away—Rainier is receding

*

(Tanka-cleave, first published at snarke.com: tanka-cleaving).

A cleave by any other name…Part 3: Trigee poetic form

The trigee poetic form is the same as the basic cleave form.

The poet’s book supposedly contains his examples of trigee forms:

Pavlov’s Cat, Poems and other Stories by TD Euwaite (Richard Brotbeck).

Also see: What is responsible for all this Trigee business going on around here?

Interestingly the creator of the trigee form writes:

“The form was copyrighted in our 2008 book, PAVLOV’S CAT.”

Is it possible to copyright a poetic form?

I have been trying to get in contact with the creator of the trigee but have not had a reply, which is a shame.

Some thoughts:

• Has the cleave form been reinvented numerous times since the start of the new millenium?
• Is it an important structure that will arise from the rubble of our post-modern wasteland?

New Yorker poetry editor Paul Muldoon and RACKETT at the Bowery Poetry Club

Please join us for an evening of poetry and rock and roll with Paul Muldoon, the Pulitzer Prize winning poetry editor of the New Yorker, and the Princeton-based band RACKETT on Saturday, March 21 8-9:30 p.m., at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery (Between Houston and Bleecker). For more info please call 212-614-0505 or bowerypoetry.com. $15

Along with Muldoon, RACKETT features: Stephen Allen (keyboards), Bobby Lewis (drums), Lee Matthew (lead guitar, vocals), Paul Muldoon (guitar, lyrics), and Nigel Smith (bass).

A Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and the American Academy of Arts and Letters, Paul Muldoon was given an American Academy of Arts and Letters award in literature for 1996. Other recent awards are the 1994 T. S. Eliot Prize, the 1997 Irish Times Poetry Prize, the 2003 Griffin International Prize for Excellence in Poetry, the 2004 American Ireland Fund Literary Award, the 2004 Shakespeare Prize, the 2005 Aspen Prize for Poetry, and the 2006 European Prize for Poetry. He has been described by The Times Literary Supplement as “the most significant English-language poet born since the second World War.”

Paul Muldoon’s main collections of poetry are New Weather (1973), Mules (1977), Why Brownlee Left (1980), Quoof (1983), Meeting The British (1987), Madoc: A Mystery (1990), The Annals of Chile (1994), Hay (1998), Poems 1968-1998 (2001) and Moy Sand and Gravel (2002), for which he won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize. His tenth collection, Horse Latitudes, appeared in the fall of 2006.

Hosting between 20 and 30 shows a week the Bowery Poetry Club (BPC) is proud of our place in the lineage of populist art: the Yiddish theater, burlesque, vaudeville, beat poetry, jazz, and punk that gave the Bowery its name.

We Are Taken In by Diana Manister

(First published as text only in Poetry Revolt)

Cleave of the Month February 2009 shortlist

As of this Cleave of the Month poets with 2 ‘wins’ in the preceding 6 months will be excluded from the shortlist.

Here is the shortlist for February – closing date 15 March 2009.

A trip to Great Yarmouth for lunch by Graham & Fleur Blick

Gentle, courageous victorious Horatio	Brittania marks a Norfolk hero
renowned and adored by Burnham Thorpe Nor-folk	exposed to the elements and flurrying snow
then cosseted warmth in Kings Head, Acle	we scuttle inside
feasting on history and food at the tavern	surrounded by ploughshares, creatures and pheasants
hospitality abounding and implements galore	creative adornments both inside and out
we talk	we eat

*

Gamelan Music by Dennis Kelly

—for Phuoc-Tan & Diana

“I write for myself—

and strangers”

—Gertrude Stein

*

i write for myself—and strangers

but mostly—for myself

i wouldn’t be writing—this way tho

if it weren’t—for strangers

especially a stranger—who said

there’s somebody—i want you to meet

so i write now—for two strangers

and myself—i write for her

even tho—we don’t talk anymore

i write for him—we talk a lot

without her—there wouldn’t be him

i write for him now—not her

funny how strangers—come & go

i write for myself—and them

*

Indecent Assault by Thane Zander

Murder

Broken marriages – surviving – a lifetime

present problems  – and marked – considering

those years wishing – praying – the abuse would stop

Rape

The dogs at the gate – penalise – passing ladies

retaliating –  the prophet buried – in places austere

barking new orders – in the Town Centre – find gravitational pull.

Armed Robbery

Vandals splattered – paint and pens – tagging new neighbourhoods

where virgins – fearing to tread – found new ground

passed into Heaven – their end placated – where light shone from below.

*

How can it be that the gas chamber door opens inwards? by Steve Parker

(to David Irving)

the occasion is Smoking Mirror, an exhibition–Flarf

to execrate the despicable English practice of riding to hound

–W.S. Burroughs

he’s asking in the wrong colour!

–Seance Recording (anon)

what it is	to outselect	the egregious shadow	assemblage
of flickers	the flickering voice	half-memory	a gestalt
of fireflies	& rattle	of redacted love	of the Ramp
of that confluence	of whispers	gargled up	in evoking
of the	noisy spirit	beyond	the machinery of
blue saturates	tested for at	Birkenau	Auschwitz
by weight of	its own inertia	so to assail	a weakness
prying alone	alone with the conviction	with such fervour	thereby mining
with the fixation	of a boy	digging out	his first living spine
that such determination	sapping away	a bulwark	artfully
might	who might just bring	the walls coming down	with fumbling
with the flagship	at the blowing	thrice O thrice	of the trebuchet
trumpet trumpet	and canary	glossolalia there look listen	with jerks & squawks of
trumpet	that thou art	in thy posture &	mild hooting hubris
thy resolve	to be other but	always in pursuit	and hot sneer
of what is truly	as the fall	of clouds cry now	in deadly blue
& otherwise	spirited	from your holes	of deadness flushed
for the shoving	your redcoat tripes	in those faces	of deluded boys

Carol Moldaw, NEA Fellow and New Mexico poet, celebrates her new book, The Widening.

Carol Moldaw and Jeanne Marie Beaumont will be at Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, NY 10012, on Mar. 28 at 2pm. Free. For more info bowerypoetry.com.  F/V to 2nd Ave or 6 to Bleecker St.  On Bowery between Bleecker and Houston.

*

Carol Moldaw’s lyric novel, The Widening, was published by Etruscan Press in the spring of 2008. She is the author of four books of poetry. Moldaw is the recipient of a Lannan Foundation Marfa Writer’s Residency, an NEA Creative Writing Fellowship, and a Pushcart Prize, and her work is published widely in journals, including AGNI, Antioch Review, Boston Review, Chicago Review, Conjunctions, Denver Quarterly, FIELD, The New Republic, The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Parnassus, Threepenny Review, and Triquarterly. It has also been anthologized in many venues, including Western Wind: An Introduction to Poetry, and Under 35: A New Generation of American Poets. As noted in The New Yorker, “Moldaw’s work repeatedly achieves lyric junctures of shivering beauty.” Moldaw lives in Pojoaque, New Mexico. So Late, So New: New and Selected Poems is forthcoming from Etruscan Press in 2010.

*

Jeanne Marie Beaumont is the author of Curious Conduct, published by BOA Editions in 2004, and Placebo Effects, selected by William Matthews as a winner in the National Poetry Series and published by Norton in 1997. Her next book is forthcoming from BOA in spring 2010. Her poem “Afraid So” was made into a short film by award-winning filmmaker Jay Rosenblatt with narration by Garrison Keillor; it has been shown at over two dozen international festivals, including the TriBeCa Film Festival and the 2008 Split This Rock Poetry Festival; it won 2nd prize at the Black Maria Film Festival, among other awards. She currently teaches at the Unterberg Poetry Center of the 92nd St. Y and in the Stonecoast low-residency MFA program in Maine. Since 1983, she has made her home in Manhattan.

*

Hosting between 20 and 30 shows a week the Bowery Poetry Club (BPC) is proud of our place in the lineage of populist art: the Yiddish theater, burlesque, vaudeville, beat poetry, jazz, and punk that gave the Bowery its name.

How can it be that the gas chamber door opens inwards? by Steve Parker

How can it be that the gas chamber door opens inwards?

(to David Irving)

the occasion is Smoking Mirror, an exhibition–Flarf
to execrate the despicable English practice of riding to hound
–W.S. Burroughs
he’s asking in the wrong colour!
–Seance Recording (anon)

what it is	to outselect	the egregious shadow	assemblage
of flickers	the flickering voice	half-memory	a gestalt
of fireflies	& rattle	of redacted love	of the Ramp
of that confluence	of whispers	gargled up	in evoking
of the	noisy spirit	beyond	the machinery of
blue saturates	tested for at	Birkenau	Auschwitz
by weight of	its own inertia	so to assail	a weakness
prying alone	alone with the  conviction	with such fervour	thereby mining
with the fixation	of a boy	digging out	his first living spine
that such determination	sapping away	a bulwark	artfully
might	who might just bring	the walls coming down	with fumbling
with the flagship	at the blowing	thrice O thrice	of the trebuchet
trumpet trumpet	and canary	glossolalia there look listen	with jerks  & squawks of
trumpet	that thou art	in thy posture &	mild hooting hubris
thy resolve	to be other but	always in pursuit	and hot sneer
of what is truly	as the fall	of  clouds cry now	in deadly blue
& otherwise	spirited	from your holes	of deadness flushed
for the shoving	your redcoat tripes	in those faces	of deluded boys

Gamelan Music by Dennis Kelly

—for Phuoc-Tan & Diana

“I write for myself—

and strangers”

—Gertrude Stein

*

i write for myself—and strangers

but mostly—for myself

i wouldn’t be writing—this way tho

if it weren’t—for strangers

especially a stranger—who said

there’s somebody—i want you to meet

so i write now—for two strangers

and myself—i write for her

even tho—we don’t talk anymore

i write for him—we talk a lot

without her—there wouldn’t be him

i write for him now—not her

funny how strangers—come & go

i write for myself—and them

Indecent Assault by Thane Zander

Murder

Broken marriages – surviving – a lifetime

present problems  – and marked – considering

those years wishing – praying – the abuse would stop

Rape

The dogs at the gate – penalise – passing ladies

retaliating –  the prophet buried – in places austere

barking new orders – in the Town Centre – find gravitational pull.

Armed Robbery

Vandals splattered – paint and pens – tagging new neighbourhoods

where virgins – fearing to tread – found new ground

passed into Heaven – their end placated – where light shone from below.

What is the Cleave Matrix?

The Cleave Matrix

A cleave by any other name…Part 2: Greg Williamson & Octavio Paz

The cleave – a form waiting to be born?

It seems that a few years before the cleave form Greg Williamson invented a poetic form he called ‘Double exposure’:

• http://books.google.com/books?id=vERZtJC5AmkC&pg=PA146&lpg=PA146#PPA146,M1

Even earlier Octavio Paz experimented with similar forms.

Here are some thoughts on Greg Williamson’s Double Exposure:

• http://forums.escapefromelba.com/indexh.pp/topic,36.msg139374.html#msg139374
• http://poetry.seablogger.com/?page_id=10

And some thoughts on Octavio Paz’s ‘proto-cleaves’:

• http://forums.escapefromelba.com/index.php/topic,112.msg141353.html#msg141353
• http://forums.escapefromelba.com/index.php/topic,36.msg141356.html#msg141356

Premieres and Poetry at The Poetry Society Cafe

The Editor will be performing 2 poems (including a cleave poem), followed by music composed in response to these poems, at the Poetry Café in Covent Garden in April:

‘Premieres and Poetry’ arranged by EMFEB Orchestra

30th April 2009

Live musical responses to live readings from contemporary poets.
6 composers and 6 poets are ‘paired up’ and the resulting work is bound
into a dramatic, intense performance with orchestral instrumentalists.
The poetry and the readings are separate, the music responding to the text.

Premiere:
The Poetry Society Café:

The Poetry Society
22 Betterton Street
London WC2H 9BX

Time: 7:30
Tickets: TBC

Composers: Ben Oliver, Benjamin Ellin, Owen Bourne, Jacques Cohen, Ashley Kinnair, Oliver Leith.
Poets: Luke Wright, David Kessel, Charles Bourne, Rohan Kriwaczek, Phuoc-Tan Diep.

Speak ill of the Dead by Steve Parker

Speak ill of the Dead (Gaza 2009)

They are the exalted birds and their intercession is required indeed
—Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses

Blitz By May 1941	43,000 civilians	many of them horribly	as cellars
filled with sewage	escaping from burst heads	heads that lay	with the corn dollies
of Dresden	whose skin grew vapid	as tubers of fire	and wind
whose horses were silhouettes	capering on sidewalks	of armour	and ashen ghosts
whose Pompeiis	cooked down	like stock	unstuck in Time
there in the rising	in the Thames	in the Elbe	the horses at night
they came to feed	of shadows	of the Dead	after night
a three year old	child	in Gaza City	dying
with a broken back	of rivers	running hard	into deltas
over two days	in the rising	through the Thames	of concrete
of heat	of her mouth	with petals	and song
filled with dust	on the green banks	folded aloft	in the arms
of mothers	of the history	of mothers	of the mothers of mothers
and of the baking	of bread	at dawn	and at the going down
of the sun	will we consume thee	thy flesh thy bread	of glory
as white phosphorus	as coins	they inserted	in the loaves
of an Intifada	like vast catfish	coins	for the raising
of the drowned	in dust	face down	now be still
do not fight	do not fight	as the horses fought	it will be over the sooner
into that glory	or thrust	upon shadow	and exalted aloft
upon high	in the upper air	and upon the heights	in cannonades
in loaves at dawn	they seek	the drowned	to ask
why one child	whose skins grew vapid	as tubers of fire	why one child
of another race	worth so many of hers	unable to move her arms	she who will never know
knows only of snow	and one catfish king	says Jim to Tom	of its taste
its cold soft iron	is much like another	much like one another	and all of it no damn good

Shab-e she’r returns for Persian New Year with open mic and poetry.

Join us for Norooz 2009, the Persian New Year celebration, at the Bowery Poetry Club on Wednesday, March 18^th from 6:00 – 9:00 pm at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, (Between Houston and Bleecker). For more info please call 212-614-0505 or bowerypoetry.com. $10

The celebratory evening will feature two incredible acts that bring the works of ancient poets including Rumi and Hafez to life through music. Opening the evening will be Rana Farhan, who is best known for setting classical Farsi (Persian) poetry to contemporary jazz and blues music that will surely captivate any audience. The second act will feature Iraj Anvar – singer, author and expert translator of Rumi. Performing in Persian song, Anvar will recite his renditions of Rumi ghazals and will be accompanied by Anne Twitty, who will translate the Persian performance into English.

Persian Arts Festival, Inc. is a not-for-profit organization dedicated to showcasing the magnificence and diversity of Persian art and culture through its voices, artists and visionaries. PAF provides a truly unique opportunity for local and global communities to gather and explore one of the world’s most ancient and rich civilizations. Persian Arts Festival is a sponsored project of the New York Foundation for the Arts (NYFA).

Hosting between 20 and 30 shows a week the Bowery Poetry Club (BPC) is proud of our place in the lineage of populist art: the Yiddish theater, burlesque, vaudeville, beat poetry, jazz, and punk that gave the Bowery its name.

Gamelan Blue by Dennis Kelly

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ldPMifPbngc

“Separated by too. This

is neither a sentence nor

a paragraph. A simple

center and a continuous

design.”—Gertrude Stein,

“More Grammar Genia

Berman,” Portraits & Prayers

*

gertrude does—grammar portraits

turning dialog—and conversation

into paragraphs—and sentences

portraits are done—with words

alice toklas—is a season of seems

when she’s blue—may is blue

what is bluer—when she is blue

my baby loves blue—so do you

*

http://www.snarke.com/2009/01/cleaving-gamelan.html

Amateur Cleave Riff by Beppo

Amateur Cleave Riff – page 55, 2666 (Wimmer)

The words — hale bopp
Waved — like a magic wand
Whilst — uncovering
— a secret,
The secret — that supplied
— the stamp
Of ultra — concrete literature,
A non-speculative – ‘free of ideas’ secret
No ambiguity — zero assertion
Like anti-denial — doubt
Free of intent — free of serving as a guide,
To pro and con,
Eyes — just seeking out
Tangible elements — not judging
Simply displaying,
Coldly — like photocopy,
Facsimiles — and by similar tokens
Things — like archaeologies

Beppo

Frenzy by Diana Manister

This visual poem occurs at a point in my long text poem concerning a combat veteran whose memories of what was done in war are being unsuccessfully repressed. Alfred Hitchcock’s murder mystery Frenzy about a London murderer triggers memories the poem’s narrator would rather not recall. The movie and actual combat recollections mix in the confused mental state the subject is experiencing.

2 joint cleaves by Graham & Fleur Blick

A trip to Great Yarmouth for lunch

Gentle, courageous victorious Horatio	Brittania marks a Norfolk hero
renowned and adored by Burnham Thorpe Nor-folk	exposed to the elements and flurrying snow
then cosseted warmth in Kings Head, Acle	we scuttle inside
feasting on history and food at the tavern	surrounded by ploughshares, creatures and pheasants
hospitality abounding and implements galore	creative adornments both inside and out
we talk	we eat

Deli/bistro 103 Unthank Road – Retirement celebration – A cleave poem in retirement unwittingly

The grey descends	upon the murky glen
colourful coats	depressions lift
cheered by a stranger	like a bright white light
Empty space follows	in the greyness of the glen
Who do you think of?	while emptiness prevails
Where do we go next?	in the myriad darkness

Bio: Graham & Fleur Blick: “you never retire”.

Cleave of the Month January 2009 shortlist

The editor’s shortlist for this month – voting is open until 15th February.

A Tank/A Life by Michael Williams

alone in a field – walking by myself
a water tank sits rusting – stopping and looking inside
once full of water – I think of my life
little more than scum remains – of potential and promise
existence without purpose – a sense of disappointment

*

**

*

When Styx Freezes Over by Boris Kipnis

your	impulses	stimulate	my mind
heart	make me want	to wake up	hungry
ready	to act irresponsibly	the dead	again
waking up	like a child	toothless	helpless
naked	crying for love	wide smile	when I see
you calm	my temper tantrums	swallowing	the world
urges	subside when	your breast	cold and empty
touches	my lips	hair stands up	vastness of grief
turning into	find yours	twin blades	blue steel on glass
hardness	soothing cuts	part flesh	and bloody
waves	of happiness	wash away	depression
slamming	rocking	my senses	like cancer
in remission	my stilts still	crumble	why?

*

**

*

Immortality by Rick Dale

I want to care — I want people to think

I do — I really give a shit

or maybe I think I’m supposed to care — It’s only a phantom

all that guilt-driven shame — the constant harping

heaped on me — dosed in good measure

by a well-meaning but fascist parent — applied with “love”

comes to fruition — leaving welts

late in life — on tender skin

Too late? — “Not enough,” I scream

The “what is” and the “what should be” — unnecessarily

wage war in my crimson thoughts — But they do make it seem like

I really really don’t give a good goddamn — at times

about much of anything others think of me — yes, not even you

yet I still act like I do — understand completely

Am I in control? — A lack of empathy

Or is it she—still? — Shrew-bitch!

And the gray elephantine weight of it all — Bearing down unmercifully

colors and smothers my every labor — crushing any effort

to write, speak, move, feel — to love!

If I could drive a stake — with abandon

through the heart of darkness — to the hilt

I would—ending it — forever

But there is immortality — with her blessings

and her name is “mother” — Amen

*

**

*

Ricardo Reis by Dennis Kelly
“No one by choice
or inclination would
remain in this port.”
—Jose Saramago,
The Year of the Death
Of Ricardo Reis

here the sea ends—the coast begins
it is raining—over the colorless sea
the waters of the river—polluted with mud
the riverbeds—flooded
a dark vessel—ascends the somber river
to anchor—in lisbon
back & forth—the same ports
london—buenos aires
la plata—montevideo
santos—rio de janeiro
pernambuco—las palmas
one does not speak—or ask
which is—the greater river
which is—the greater town
a curtain of water—descends from sky
we come to know—what we don’t know
which is what—we know already
there is nothing—but names
beyond the reach—of writing

*

**

*

Dearly Belateds by Diana Manister

The Cleave January 2009 update

In January there were more great new cleave poets – welcome to you all.

It is was a time of seeing how the cleave concept has been created in other minds as well

A cleave by any other name…Welcome Michael Williams

also

Pulling Out all The Stops

Here are some stats

Alice James Books at the Bowery Poetry Club

Alice James Books invites you for a reading and book give-away extravaganza on Thursday, February 5th at 6pm at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, (Between Houston and Bleecker). For more info please call 212-614-0505 or bowerypoetry.com.

The press will be celebrating its latest collections by Idra Novey and Carey Salerno and giving away free books and Poetry Bailout pins. Come by and pick up a book, hear some poems, and help celebrate 35 years of poetry publishing with Alice James Books!!!

Idra Novey is the author of The Next Country. Novey’s chapbook of poems was selected by Carolyn Forche for a 2005 Poetry Society of America Chapbook Fellowship. Her poems have also appeared in Slate, Paris Review, Ploughshares, and Agni. She received a PEN Translation Fund Award for her translation of The Clean Shirt of It, by Brazilian poet Paulo Henriques Britto (BOA Editions, 2007, Lannan Translation Series). She currently teaches at Columbia University and in the Bard College Prison Initiative.

Carey Salerno is the Acting Director of Alice James Books and author of Shelter. Salerno has an MFA from New England College. Her poems have been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and have appeared in Rattle and Natural Bridge. She lives with her husband and dog in Farmington, Maine.

Hosting between 20 and 30 shows a week the Bowery Poetry Club (BPC) is proud of our place in the lineage of populist art: the Yiddish theater, burlesque, vaudeville, beat poetry, jazz, and punk that gave the Bowery its name.

A cleave by any other name…Welcome Michael Williams

A cleave by any other name…..is just as sweet? Indeed – this is very exciting.

Michael Williams created this form in 2005 predating the cleave form by a year or so.
To me this is a sub-form of the cleave meta-form and philosophy.

I had assumed that I was not the only person to
arrive at the concept of cleave poetry,
but it was a novel idea for me -
re-inventing the wheel?

Enjoy.

I found out about your site from Steve Parker, one of the poets you’ve published, and I was quite excited to learn of it. I’ve written a number of pieces with the same idea, using the tanka and haiku forms. As you will see from the dates on the individual pieces below, these were written in 2005 and 2006. I did not know anyone else was experimenting with the same ideas.

In addition to the dual-poem pieces, you will also find two triple-poem pieces below – one tanka and one haiku.

*

My idea from the beginning, with what I first called “SuperTanka” (a pun on “supertanker”), was that the two individual tanka must make sense on their own as well as form a unified thought when combined side-by-side. When I was trying to get others to try the form, I also stated as an ideal (though not a requirement) for the two separate tanka to seem unrelated and together to create something not quite either one. I used “A Palette for Nature” as one of my best examples of the idea, splitting it into its two halves and titling them “A Palette” and “For Nature” to show their individual themes.

Yes, it was very interesting to see the website for the first time – even more so when I read the descriptions of what constituted a Cleave poem and realized how close it was to my idea of a SuperTanka (which I’ve taken to calling Dual Tanka and Treble Tanka – and Haiku – though I’m still partial to the original name).

The Treble Tanka, by the way, came about when someone asked what would happen if two SuperTanka collided. I wrote two SuperTanka – one with the first and second tanka and one with the second and third tanka – and then stated that if those two collided you would either have a massive word spill or get a Treble Tanka, presenting the triple-wide result.

*

Summer Storm

Summer day overcast – rain is on the way
air so heavy with moisture – feel it on the waxing breeze
creatures seek shelter – rumbling from the west
bright flashes growing closer – the waiting land anticipates
pelting raindrops fall at last – nourishment for summer crops

06/28/2005

*

Immeasurable

A genie appears – I smile at the sight
offering a perfect life – stunning beyond mortal words
undreamt wealth is mine – scenes from paradise
if I foreswear all I know – I hang my head in regret
I cannot accept the gift – the asking price is too high

07/07/2005

*

A Palette for Nature

color in a world – dawn begins afresh
golden rays of morning sun – deep breaths of awakening day
lighten for midday – shadowless noontime
add gray for afternoon clouds – evening rain refreshes
deepen to a midnight blue – all quiet in cool night air

07/08/2005

*

Lighthouse Guardian Companion

lighthouse of my soul – keeper of my heart – true love of my life
beacon on my stormy seas – sole guardian of my hopes – companion of all my days
give me peace of mind – calm my worried fears – stay close by my side
guide me surely through turmoil – show me the future’s bright light – accompany me onward
provide safe harbor at day’s end – love me as long as we live – for I will love you always

07/16/2005

*

The Lure of the Road

my road has a curve – rising to its bend
I cannot see around it – my road hides a mystery
though I crane my neck – nothing can be seen
with no progress I am blind – to learn I must move ahead
thus my road draws me onward – only then is all revealed

07/13/2005

*

A Tank/A Life

alone in a field – walking by myself
a water tank sits rusting – stopping and looking inside
once full of water – I think of my life
little more than scum remains – of potential and promise
existence without purpose – a sense of disappointment

08/07/2005

*

Rainy Day Tango

rain thrumming outside – Tuesday afternoon
unheeding of life indoors – watching the rain pouring down
refreshing the earth – making puddles dance
pattering down through the leaves – moving in lively rhythm
the bobbing and swaying leaves – keeping a tempo of life

08/16/2005

*

Summer Idles

summer’s day meadow – a mind at leisure
butterflies flit at random – aimless thoughts without purpose
yet always moving – seeking a focus
another blossom’s pollen – next fantastic idea
beckons to the gatherer – waiting to be fertilized

08/28/2005

*

Arctic Circle Commander

bitter winds whistle – shrill knives through parkas
rocky glacier’s frozen waste – men shiver against the gale
jagged iciness – Colonel Tim is grim
deep crevasses lie hidden – twenty souls depend on him
death only a step away – “Timmy, supper!” “Coming Mom!”

09/02/2005

*

January 2, 2006

January storm – thunder and lightning

windy afternoon surprise – hailstones patterning the ground
raindrops lingering – dark clouds dispersing
vibrant spectrum solid arc – color in a window framed
nearby trees tinted with stripes – rainbow show for us alone

01/18/2006

*

Guardian Pines

snow-wrapped evergreens – in winter’s embrace- lit by a full moon
stand sentinel in our yard – alone and yet together – laden branches softly glow
guarding the maple – equal partnership – soul inspiration

01/20/2006

*

Snow Trails

journey to sunset – striding into night
following your destiny – where few will ever travel
past snow-covered hills – to the very end
hard to walk the icy path – so easy to fall and quit
strike out to create your own – be a pathfinder instead

02/19/2006

*

Light Lesson

setting sun colors – multitude of reds
wash across land and sky – light obscuring all colors
teach understanding – observed is not real

04/10/2006

*

Fall Crimson

a blaze of colors – reflect in the stream
makes each tree an autumn torch – flicker in ripple’s passage
lighting the season – fire on the water

09/06/2006

*

Bio: Michael Williams. I live in southern Indiana, USA. I’ve been interested in writing most of my life, but gave up on poetry while in college. This lasted for nearly 30 years before I returned to it in 2003. I’ve been writing poetry ever since, and I enjoy experimenting with forms and styles. In “real life” I do computer support for a manufacturing corporation. Other interests include antique marbles, chess, and other games of skill.

A Thank You Cleave by Dennis Kelly

Dear Phuoc-Tan,

*

Well, well—thank you very much.

For posting “The Pact”—on The Cleave.

“The Pact” pretty much—says everything.

Everything I know—about The Cleave right now.

Which isn’t much—I keep it minimal.

I keep the baggage light—I let the Spice flow.

*

I want to let your—Cleave idea “gel” in my mind.

To give it time—to do what it wants to do.

It always seems—to surprise me.

With something Spontaneous—and NEW.

That’s what Pound said—“Make it NEW, baby.”

*

Making it NEW is easy—if you trust your Intuition.

It’s best in the morning—with a cup of coffee.

With a cat on my lap—and my Fujitsu tablet.

Glowing in the dark—in my bedroom womb.

With the Cleave-stream—flowing thru me.

Thru my sleepy—wake-up cerebellum…

*

I’ve made this Pact with Pound—like Pound & Whitman.

The New Sentence in my head—the New Line on the screen.

Sometimes the stylus—can’t wait to get going.

The graceful horizontal slide—of words left to right.

Cleaving it with hyphens—letting the diastic flow go free.

Then the best part—letting the Cleave speak to me…

*

Letting the 2 verticals—crawl up and down the page.

Like cicadas climbing—up the World Tree

Three Voices talking to me—the Spoken Word inside me.

Saving it on a memory stick—plugging it in later.

Editing the manuscript—on my Roll-top desk laptop.

Each morning—I make this Pact with the Word.

And the Word—says Cleave Me Baby!!!!!

*

The Pact by Dennis Kelly

“I make a pact with

you, Walt Whitman”

—Ezra Pound

i make a pact—with you

ezra pound—my fascist father

bollingen prize—badboy poet

pig-headed—pisa prick

st. elizabeth—prisoner of zenda

poet—of the new woode

you broke it—that whitman Line

now it’s—time for cleaving

once—again

time for—commerce

words—between us

—based on Ezra Pound’s “A Pact,” Personae (1926)

The Killing Fields by Thane Zander

                In Kampuchea | the memory burns 
          the killing fields | lost in dying memories 
            where once stood | mighty Oaks 
            children playing | with one leg, an arm missing 
        now barren, memorium | a past lost 
         soldiers once stood | the shouts of pain 
              barking orders | to innocent walkers 
           in concentrations | the line littered 
              with skeletons | marking the path 
              where the dead | lying aghast 
cried for the loss of honour | the loss of hope 
                   in Rwanda | it is reborn.

The Girdle Sensation by Steve Parker

in that her presence was itself	some zonesthesia	past mere atmospheric cinch	he breathed	tight.
shallow	noticeably different	yet for a week or more	would not look	would not feel
the girdle sensation	/the swoon	or more hives or hives	of her a hive or several	of hives
that hemmed	upon him	as poetic asphyxia	he wanted to smash it	the cincture
as poetic asphyxia	the drowning	the press which in such ways accompanies	to perform a delicate	an intricate task
the cincture	which accompanies	the drowning	zonesthesia	task at the very limit
past mere ability	several or more hives	that hemmed upon him	at the very limit	of ability

Ricardo Reis by Dennis Kelly

Ricardo Reis
“No one by choice
or inclination would
remain in this port.”
—Jose Saramago,
The Year of the Death
Of Ricardo Reis

here the sea ends—the coast begins
it is raining—over the colorless sea
the waters of the river—polluted with mud
the riverbeds—flooded
a dark vessel—ascends the somber river
to anchor—in lisbon
back & forth—the same ports
london—buenos aires
la plata—montevideo
santos—rio de janeiro
pernambuco—las palmas
one does not speak—or ask
which is—the greater river
which is—the greater town
a curtain of water—descends from sky
we come to know—what we don’t know
which is what—we know already
there is nothing—but names
beyond the reach—of writing

Balancing Equation by Victoria Rivas

                    Tasha talks out - it smells like 

                        tricks to stop - old women 

                 solving equations - in this classroom

    it is more important than - you think I’m

stopping insolent comments - talking about you

                           I ignore her - innocent look

             my expression stern - narrows into a smirk

*

Victoria Rivas has been published in many journals including Bogg, Connecticut River Review, Caprice, Common Ground Review, and the Journal of Asian Martial Arts; and in the anthologies Working Hard for the Money from Bottom Dog Press and Along the Lake from Ye Olde Font Shoppe. She has one chapbook Doing Laundry, and is working on a new book, Yo Miss! I Need a Pencil which includes poetry and prose.

Victoria was on the board of directors for the The 8th Annual National Poetry Slam Championship & 1997 Connecticut Poetry Festival, and the 2001 and 2003 Connecticut Poetry Festivals. She was also an alternate on the 1998 CT Slam Team.

The Cleave Anthology 2008/9

…arriving in Spring/Summer 2009…

When Styx Freezes Over by Boris Kipnis

your	impulses	stimulate	my mind
heart	make me want	to wake up	hungry
ready	to act irresponsibly	the dead	again
waking up	like a child	toothless	helpless
naked	crying for love	wide smile	when I see
you calm	my temper tantrums	swallowing	the world
urges	subside when	your breast	cold and empty
touches	my lips	hair stands up	vastness of grief
turning into	find yours	twin blades	blue steel on glass
hardness	soothing cuts	part flesh	and bloody
waves	of happiness	wash away	depression
slamming	rocking	my senses	like cancer
in remission	my stilts still	crumble	why?

Gorilla Loose on Highstreet by Steve Parker

“the body has gone underground due to widespread persecution.” Madeleine Shine

in those times of the interior	in those times of the interior	in those times of the interior	in those times of the interior
of antimony	of ambergris	of kohl	of Zanzibar and Shendy
dig my grave	I will dig yours	in wet vellum	we go stark laughing
rush/	from behind trees	it was reported	huge grinning
clutch/ladies	of amorous	to them	covered in fur
fevers/shivering	oh fearful greek katyusha	on a cigar of all nations	unconscionably requited
Freud bitten himself to death	Reich askance the whole winter’s edge	Jung suddenly addressed with fondness his stockpot	keep it for your aghast moments
this ape thing	this ape thing	this ape thing	this ape thing
not universally acknowledged as myth	my half-brother now summertime duke	piss off into your walled garden	not universally acknowledged as myth

Steve Parker, originally from Liverpool, now lives in Haworth near Emily Bronte’s grave in West Yorkshire, UK. His poetry has been been published in Ditch, Cause and Effect, Dogzplot, Underground Voices, Admit Two, The Chimaera and Chaos International, as well as two chapbooks published by Stylus Books in the UK: Selected Poems by Steve Parker and Tearing the Veil. His blog is: brickstackblockstack.

Immortality by Rick Dale

I want to care — I want people to think

I do — I really give a shit

or maybe I think I’m supposed to care — It’s only a phantom

all that guilt-driven shame — the constant harping

heaped on me — dosed in good measure

by a well-meaning but fascist parent — applied with “love”

comes to fruition — leaving welts

late in life — on tender skin

Too late? — “Not enough,” I scream

The “what is” and the “what should be” — unnecessarily

wage war in my crimson thoughts — But they do make it seem like

I really really don’t give a good goddamn — at times

about much of anything others think of me — yes, not even you

yet I still act like I do — understand completely

Am I in control? — A lack of empathy

Or is it she—still? — Shrew-bitch!

And the gray elephantine weight of it all — Bearing down unmercifully

colors and smothers my every labor — crushing any effort

to write, speak, move, feel — to love!

If I could drive a stake — with abandon

through the heart of darkness — to the hilt

I would—ending it — forever

But there is immortality — with her blessings

and her name is “mother” — Amen

Rick Dale has a D.Ed. in Educational Administration from Pennsylvania State University, and is a professor in the Special Education Department at a state university in Maine. He is a Jack Kerouac enthusiast who plays bluegrass music semi-professionally and enjoys a multitude of outdoor sports. Rick lives with his partner and her two sons—and two cats—on a lake in Maine. The Beat Handbook is his first book.

Dearly Belateds by Diana Manister

Derrick Brown at the Bowery Poetry Club

Derrick Brown celebrates his new book “Scandalabra”.

Please join us for an evening of poetry, spoken word, music, and magic featuring Derrick C. Brown. This event is free and will take place Tuesday, January 13th, from 6:00-7:00pm at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, (between Houston and Bleecker). For more information please call 212-614-0505 or visit bowerypoetry.com.

A book party for “Scandalabra” will be held at 6pm, followed by WordShop, during which Brown will give tips on touring and how to write great poetry. The Urbana Poetry Slam will follow at 7pm, featuring Brown.

Former paratrooper Derrick Brown takes his poetry around the world, as to date he has performed at over 1100 venues and universities, including La Sorbonne in Paris. In 1998 he placed second in the National Poetry Slam individual championship, and in 2004 he won the California Independent Book Critics’ Award for his written work. He has consistently been the opening act for Indie rock act, Cold War Kids and has been booked with The White Stripes and performed with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. In response to his latest collection “Scandalabra”, Nylon Magazine proclaims “Derrick has blown honesty and humor into the darkness and has somehow made poetry cool again.”

In 2004, Brown started Write Bloody Publishing. Write Bloody has published many authors and artists, including the works of Amber Tamblyn, Buddy Wakefield, and Roger Bonair-Agard. Brown’s own publications include “Born in the Year of the Butterfly Knife” (Write Bloody Publishing, 2006), “I Love You is Back” (Write Bloody Publishing, 2006), and “The Last American Valentine” (Write Bloody Publishing, 2008).

Hosting between 20 and 30 shows a week the Bowery Poetry Club (BPC) is proud of our place in the lineage of populist art: the Yiddish theater, burlesque, vaudeville, beat poetry, jazz, and punk that gave the Bowery its name.

Trust me by Boris Kipnis

    The peace - of mind - my love
   Will come - as well as - words
     When our – bodies – untangle
     Tongues – learning – to speak
    Free from - all but - the truth
   The brain - forgetting - the hatred
Will connect – everything - in our hearts
 To all that - is sad and - is hidden
  God wanted – buried deep - in silence

Boris Kipnis:
1. I live now (sometimes) in Michigan. i was born in Kiev, Ukraine 52 years ago. Went to school there (tri-lingual: Russian, Ukraininan, English), then off to the university in Russia 150 km from Moscow to major in Roman-German linguistics. Besides languages, studied world literature. Wrote poetry in Russian since i was a kid, loved Russian poetry, some classical poets (Pushkin and Lermontov), but especially the first half of the 20th century poets (Blok, Pasternak, Mandelshtam, Akhmatova, Tsvetayeva, etc.). Translated some of the English and American poetry into Russian.

2. Moved to the US in the beginning of 1979, lived, worked and studied in Ohio – Engineering and Psychology. Got MBA in International Business in 1991 from Baldwin-Wallace. Worked most of my adult life in the automotive industry, still do international business consulting. Spend most of my time in Europe now – Germany, Austria, Russia.

3. Was happily married for almost 31 years until my wife passed away in 2007. have 2 great daughters and 3 wonderful grand children, 1 more coming soon!

4. I write poetry whenever and wherever – love it and wish i could spend more time writing. Translated some of the Russian poetry into English and hope to  translate some more of my favorite Russian poetry into English the way it should be translated, even though it is extremely difficult. Also, recently started to write songs, since I’m able and willing to torture my acoustic guitar and a piano sometimes. hope to spend some time this year working on a cd (wrote 8 songs so far, working on 4 more).

Dennis Kelly cleaving Ron Silliman

Ron Silliman

“I write to know
who I am”
—Ron Silliman

He says—he writes
To know—who he is
I’m just—the opposite
I write—to forget

“I’m straight”—he says
Straightforward—realist
But I’m—more backwards
A kind of—Weimar drag

His message—“Be Here Now.”
Mine—is more subversive
Anywhere—but here, my dear
Give me—Dr. Caligari’s Closet!!!

Last night—he was reading
Thomas Pynchon—Against The Day
I’m still stuck—in Gravity’s Rainbow
Conspiracy—synchronicity!!!

William Carlos Williams—Spring and All
Got him going—Zukofsky and Creeley
Armantrout—and Watten helped him
I’ve read—In the American Tree

It’s Xmas Eve—I’m on the run
Is there—room in the inn?
My wife (virgin)—she’s pregnant
Three wise thugs—are trailing us

(From Dennis Kelly’s cleave site)

Happy New Year

Happy New Year to all.

Where there is life there is hope, joy and sorrow too, but there is hope; hope for a New Year – to make things new, to take the cleave forward, onward, upward.

If I could see the future it would be too much for me, so I see the present and learn from the past; the future is there to be explored.

Some recent developments:

• December Cleave of the Month was jointly won by Dennis Kelly with Spontaneous thing and Janet Hamill with KEROUAC.
• KEROUAC has been nominated by Bowery Books for a 2008 Pushcart Prize.
• The Cleave Anthology is coming together (submit your cleaves to be considered for publication in the Anthology).
• The Editor will read a cleave poem (and a prose poem) in April 2009 at The Poetry Society (UK) Cafe in conjunction with 5 other poets and The EMFEB Orchestra in a poetry-music fusion (cleave?) evening. (Further details later.)

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May this year amaze us all.