, Allen Fisher, 288pp, 15, The Gig
Tin Pan Arcadia, Robert Sheppard, 136pp, 9.95, Salt
Drafts, Rachel Blau DuPlessis, 235pp, 12.99, Salt

for Allen Fisher

nomad skulk and undercover
different models of oblivion
optional song and science

note held nerve-end high
street curve and circuit twitter
chaotic short-change signal

desire to feel everywhere
devoted future threshold
ultimate form of healing

virtuous noise asymmetry
dark sedimentary layer
assumed grammar's sludge

lured into data theory
imagination and memory
many levels of found text

translation's mistakes manifest
never our mother tongue
paradise not located here

in gravity's orbit I met my match
and fell in to expression trap
one version of the event

several days out to explore
temperature and storm damage
making so much of right now

explanation lost in consideration
shifting attraction of language
a few paper petals in the gutter

for Robert Sheppard

     the night had a thousand 'i's

passionate threads of hidden living
offstage violence partially glimpsed

perverted by history's narratives
the table cluttered with opinion

     his 'i's were Pearl's

a further thread begins to reveal itself
it is not an abstract process

ventriloquism caulks and tightens bolts
offers media images of trouble

the first appearance of riot shields
somewhere within the dark study

protest always considered legitimate
she wants him more than anything

pleasure pulled from head of the shaft
language lays naked under glass vault lights

trimming rock with horizontal air drill
a fountain on the rooftop of the casino

Subway Shirt Hospital is some way off
along the bombed and firelit street

     my 'i's adored you

defensive measure against the known
cut-and-cover sets a precedent

presence and precipitation
surveillance and subversion  

lines of flight through language
parrot chatter in the grate

subsidence's excavated spoils
counterculture memories seized

whoever your readers and critics are
I hope the singing transmutes desire

emptiness takes my breath away
the inner voice finishes mid-sentence

     the 'i's have it

to the amazement of everyone paying attention
work finished months before the deadline

a poem intrigued by colossal engineering
the face of the storefront shorn away

the petrifying talk of freedom
here taken literally

                    CREASE PATTERNS
                                  for Rachel Blau DuPlessis

       there is a place for any poem before it is written
             the gender question torques translation
                    riddles solved are now more complex
                                a coffee cup and a doughnut are the same
             I use standard notation plus a few arrows
      just rough hewn floor boards and shelves
                          physically cut and staple it to new pages
              to get a workable sequence

                               a poem in which words fail

             paperfolding for play was known by a variety of names
                         the word was adopted in kindergartens
     I am waiting for a book from the remote storage facility
                           some gluing and cutting may be allowed
          a sentence of a looping temporality
                  fold here
                          among the ark of random things
                                          here       & here
                boulder is round rock
                          a sentence of looping temporality

                     pick a point on the crease pattern
                                         something that wraps the eye
                  how many creases originate at this vertex?
         small squares of paper top and bottom
             is it possible to have an odd number of creases?
   how about the relationship between mountain and valley folds?
                                             poetry is made of words
                 newsprint, newspaper, phone book pages,
                                                      used copy and computer paper

   can you have a vertex with only valley folds?
                   lay bare the fragments and displacements found
                                       flashes, fragmentations, and erasures
                                                   the page is never blank
                                          how many changes will it take?
             a way to think and undertake understanding
                               the page is never blank

                     original creations and diagrams
       how about the angles around this point?
                            even minor differences can be confusing
                      memory, history, and language itself
                    was poetry always now impossible?
                              many secular or worldly customs require
                    being chained to the cosmos
              pure information and different textual elements
                                                     ears behind the head
                           why should anything be written or not?

                             the page is never blank

                     regimes of complete astonishment
               the processual construction of a space of discourse
                                         unnerving in lack of detail
                          playing with textures of memory
                                a formative and generous gift
                   none of the poems is perfect
I ended up completely beguiled

                         Beauty is in the eye of the folder

     Rupert M Loydell 2004