Friday, June 26, 2009

Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.


Dipalma, Raymond (Ray) ed.
Doones Volume 1 Numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4 (all published).
Bowling Green, Ohio: Raymond Dipalma, 1969-70. First edition. 8vo. Wraps. All four numbers of Dipalma's little magazine of experimental poetry, published in Ohio before he moved to New York City. Contributors include Ted Berrigan, Merrill Gilfallan, Ted Greenwald, Darrell Gray, Anselm Hollo, Robert Kelly, James Tate, Bill Knott, Ron Silliman, Larry Fagin, etc. Condition is near fine to fine with minor toning. Price: $125.00

What can I say—

it was the Sixties, man.



"ActionYes" is an always-interesting webzine that publishes poetry in translation as well as English originals—

reading its latest issue the poet whose work I was most struck by is Andrew Lundwall . . .

I suspect that if I were his age I'd probably be trying to write this sort of thing:


4 Poems

by Andrew Lundwall


petals will plug porno depths fueled in hammers of look which frogs on the shadows of camp yeah — delirium will you enter me now? the elect scuffed — pepsi midnight is a voracious socket squirts on immortality clinically like that hungrily fuck taped using in rodeo trance to the immense smile — camouflage lambs are lying to seem out some new throbs and confusion a new lion of scrawled eye-catching shackle of want the jazzy spurted fissures — high-speed binoculars of arthritic champagne session engulfed in microwaved captivity — is that a way to wait? asked sacrifice cob i have sold a fir to your eyelids and rationalized their crumbs — bewitchments smoked cyan taillights dragged so nevertheless that it made industrial-strength missionary corridor silver to sound — whimper chewed with painted heartbeat more metaphysical than a bellyful of toes chose



intense minutes of zeros unfolding only the curious mysteries are kissed to it made of horny hallucination in tulip state of squirt — robotic electric typewriter to fix this time unwinds the flakes of star-capital flickered with toy pump turntables about the nerves — walls on which clock knots huddle and painters with magnifying stripes fix over half-inch omen machines — cheekbones all worried to please this powerful hologram musky sewage edges carved with strangers — vise of breath is beautiful in dirty playroom weeks of half-grown details where dancing interferences steer the skeleton of blur about — this mathematical delirium pussy is amazed beyond the hurrah of files



apnea of a trolley orgasms in a load of distress — ecstasy squirmed becomes known into lost clitoris — scared croissants and twisted visitors in galleries of synapse — porno-hurried curtains that province icicles — pee erupted like a stiffening eavesdropper — mermaid phones skull you blew it at desire you fug like a scarf where were you when you sam jesus had a picture of arithmetic? — twisting out incense smudged high-pitched cassettes — thighs are down so much for geographic limbo of the pleasure laser



tower rumbles a mechanical moonlight it passes fast to understand feeds more like a yearning with italian alarms — clothing smoked apart between catholic helicopters and throbs these routes will electric for such blonde galaxies — mnear some shrieked gutter of unconscious rose a brow of shock it is not a waist deciding its frequencies — mouth card burbs transient-colored halloween of windshields — jolts do frantically provide snails of satellites — some perverts in bubble daisy me from your box skin job like a vacuum-sealed consciousness about scrape — gloves wiggling up negative twang of cosmetic steel — searchlights skewered thigh-high squeeze this optic record — crazy-looking someplace of surgical cram opera all that ever icons