The Cleave Poetry Webzine [ISSN: 1758-9223]

Posts Tagged ‘submission’

translations by Dennis Kelly

In submission on October 27, 2008 at 7:56 am
translations
“The recognition that the 
very presence of the line
is predominant current
signifier of the Poetic will
cause some poets to discard
at least for a time, its use”
—Ron Silliman,
“Of Theory, To Practice
 cleaving masters—like ezra pound
    more than just—translating them
     word for word—line for line
stanza for stanza—poem for poem
       it’s more like—sargasso seas
       sinking down—bermuda triangles
       disappearing—deep time & space
           jettisoning—jetsam & flotsam
          all the way—downward

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  • Dancing with Mary Shelley and Henry James A Cleave Suite by Diana Manister

    In submission on October 20, 2008 at 6:50 am

    Dancing with Mary Shelley and Henry James

    A Cleave Suite

    the phantasmagoric audience – all of them having

    strangely –  the same face

    takes the stage, –  multiples of one man

    acting all the parts –  a replicating fantôme

    in the dark –  populating the nightscape

    of dreaming’s Cartesian theater – by morning melting away

    withdrawing into daylight –  uncovered by lightless night

    The place, with its gray sky and withered garlands, its bared spaces and

    scattered dead leaves, was like a theater after the performance — all strewn

    with crumpled playbills

    the entity –  I

    the first person – me or mine

    is it separate or  – just a named hallucination

    a wave in a sea of they  – a drop of rain

    Whisper Your Name Three Times Into the Wind and It Will Go

    to that imaginary land of – signs

    titles, drawings & stories -  of love

    songs alluding to – April’s fragrance

    facsimiles of – r e a l sun

    showerless – showers

    counterfeit flowers –  bees in the buddleia

    always a step away from sensations – feelings and real places

    nothing is wonderful but the word -  W O N D E R

    leaving behind a sigh –  a n  e x h a l A t i o n

    whose name blew away – on a windy day

    a word as virtual as signified snow – let it rise as a whisper and go

    I saw the master — nothing could be more evident — in the light of an intense

    emotion,and I trembled, I remember, in every limb, while at the same time, by a

    blest fortune, emotion produced no luminous blur, but left him shining indeed,

    only shining with august particulars.

    I busied myself with – concocting a tale

    a story – that would speak to

    mysterious – fears

    awakening dread – quickening the blood

    I saw a body – made of ghastly fragments

    stolen from a graveyard – showing signs of animation

    moving eerily – due to its creators skill

    the pale student of unhallowed arts – making that progeny conscious

    cackling in triumphalive at last

    I caught him, yes, I held him — it may be imagined with what a passion; but at

    the end of a minute I began to feel what it truly was that I held.

    seemingly normal – nodding responses

    but hollow inside – cognizant, bright

    having no lack of  – emotional

    affects yet not  – conscious of being

    a self  – in a condition of

    rather uncanny – I-less life

    cloned with indifference or cloned with a difference

    The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the

    obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a

    strange tale should essentially be.

    despite disaster –  this single thing

    language  remains – survives the damage

    panic forms – phrases

    sentences – take shape

    writing alone escapes – from nothing’s pure night

    so

    let us go then you and I – along with our alters

    under the Titian-white sky

    what is the nouveau siècle to its whyless wide

    to its dumb sun

    all of us subsequents – formed by the story

    until the text ends

    Wonderful was it thus to see, and thrilling inwardly to note, that since the

    question was of personal values so great no faintest fraction of the whole could

    succeed in not counting for interest.


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    Indolence by Royce Icon

    In submission on October 19, 2008 at 8:27 am
    Introducing a new cleave poet:
    
          Indolence by Royce Icon
              This - I fell asleep on the bus
     Kind of thing - Dizzy and drooling
    Always happens - I awoke in a foreign area
                To - Worried and delirious
                Me - Miles away from my stop


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  • My Human Brain by Andrea Barton

    In submission on October 18, 2008 at 8:02 am

    Here is another ground-breaking cleave from Andrea Barton, 3 poems fusing into one:

    bold (right), italics (middle), normal (left) and then the whole cleave.

    
                        My Human Brain by Andrea Barton
    
            May I direct your attentionhere– follow me
                        this way pleaseI am– here to the right
                            on your leftin– this section
                         you will noticeall– ready for paint are
                   the columns formed bythe– blank canvasses
       logically situated battalionsquivering– in anticipation
                 of warriors at theconjunction– of thought and feeling
                    ready for the battleof– reason vs. intuition
                   there is no room forlove– in our struggle for
          identity today, only sequence and– expression caught in the fray
      and contrapuntal equilibrium ofalgebra– or in the poetry of a lush epic.
                       rational thoughtand– be careful here
                       on your leftchildbirth– the absolute beginning
                art in its purest formand– the creation of life
    a mere moment we are only withoutfault- exquisite and blameless.

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  • Two cleaves by Dennis Kelly

    In submission on October 17, 2008 at 6:44 am
          Three way(s)
    
    cleaves are—three way(s)
     new LangPo—doorways
       the Line—opening up
              
                    eyes
    
      small pigs—looking at
          big pigs—observing
        unwieldy—dimensions
           curious—imperfection of odors
         a formal—male group
       gathering—together
     young pigs—looking at old pigs
    considering—the elderly mind
       observing—inexplicable correlatives
    
    
    —based on “The Seeing Eye”
    Ezra Pound’s Personae (1926)
    
    


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  • Plan 9 from Outer Space by Jennifer Siegel

    In submission on October 16, 2008 at 7:43 pm

    Jennifer Semple Siegel is our newest cleave poet and has a new type of cleave:

    “Cleave-movie poem” using a “seed poem” named after Mac Low’s diastic compositional model.

    Here is a link to her site where it first appeared.

    The seed poem is the text on the movie poster.

    http://www.snark.me/2008/09/cleave-poem-for-puget-plan-9-from-outer.html

    Plan 9 from Outer Space

    A cleave poem for Puget
    Unspeakable -- Mad Bela croaking L-O-N-G before wrap
        Horrors -- Worst  movie  ever made? Camp Sci-fi?
           From -- Sea to murky sea, a  cult hit
          Outer -- Cloaking for  chiropractor Tom Mason
          Space -- Vampie Vampira from  Outer Space
      Paralyze -- Almost. Nearly  tanking sans its Zombie star
           The --  Filming: never, never after dark
        Living -- Zombies: Pod People  9 years in future
           And -- Changeling costumes  morphing mid-scenes
     Resurrect -- The continuity  person
           The -- Star: Ed Wood  who pulled it off anyway
         Dead! -- Viral!
    
    


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  • Submission: Andrea Barton

    In submission on October 11, 2008 at 7:19 am

    A great little cleave by Andrea. Something to ponder on.

    I’m out of town until Thursday.

    Also, I’m trying out some different formatting.

    Enjoy.

    Lots more cleaves and thoughts when I return.

               Things I Need by Andrea Barton
    
                 In the end - it comes to this:
              I parse words - on a grocery pad
            meant for lists - for things I need.
          A line drawn down - the middle of my words
                my thoughts - rent in half
                on a Sunday - in the wee days of this new fall
    at the end of September - I believe
                     I need - and want
                to remember - these words.

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