What do you think?
Rate this book
esp: accumulation sonnets
In accumulation sonnets, Jay MillAr "listens in" to hear the language that passes through him, rather than the language he retains. He if you throw out the nets, what will be caught? What will be missed? What will be miss-represented? And then, as time passes, what shall we do with these linear fragments of time that interleave their lyric eye among the wreckage of their own attention? Read them, of course. This sequence of 15-line sonnets operates in the way that Spicer spoke of the serial you have to let the poems lead the way or you'll just wind up lost in the woods.
60 pages, Paperback
First published November 1, 2009
1 person want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
January 20, 2022
1
forlorn falls of autumn
the light shrinks to whole
itself the size of night
putting the shape
of letters into each size
as an equation meaning
respectively speaks for
this moment of that one
trades black for blues
pens' commercialism
'the true value' a line
on this inside out there
the family a group of
different sizes of acknowledge
the passage of one's age
2
open twenty-four ours
of perfectly ordinary seams
the list of things to do
grows a list of reasons
we can no longer say things
we want to understand how the payoff
has anything to do with believing we can
screw language
this is between me and my word
then someone died
remind me there's nothing to fear
but the games we all play
we all like living this way
as family includes no is
a pack of wolves includes no was
3
push press for begins
wonder at shapes held by cloth
dad - what's a lung?
a delivered pornographic diagram
of geography where less is more
looking for new gods
to scratch the surface of safety
small birds on ice for seed
to enter the community
where nobody knows nobody
else or cares one way or the other
who drifts away falls silent
never writes again
fuckups and dies
dad - what's a lung?
4
oh so this is your sidewalk
the software of weather
so mysterious to clouds
i don't know about you people
or machines of the overcoat
i would like to transcribe the rain
hear an elegant example
of extortion personified
suspects fall for december
the year the eyes fell open
against winter and cried for pulp
there is some abstraction going on
deep in aspic of language
this wet city wants words
meticulous or some other
5
the bits of light that don't repeat
the notes off keys
sky cabin fever buzz
or burn of scotch
tape sounds or stereo
phonic purr of soft slurred ice
something to call memory
presents gifts beyond things
figmented techniques between
sounds like between to me
artificial followers and
breeding whirlwinds for energy
we require caffeine at least
i do anyway green caterpillar
a pure state of floor once at all
forlorn falls of autumn
the light shrinks to whole
itself the size of night
putting the shape
of letters into each size
as an equation meaning
respectively speaks for
this moment of that one
trades black for blues
pens' commercialism
'the true value' a line
on this inside out there
the family a group of
different sizes of acknowledge
the passage of one's age
2
open twenty-four ours
of perfectly ordinary seams
the list of things to do
grows a list of reasons
we can no longer say things
we want to understand how the payoff
has anything to do with believing we can
screw language
this is between me and my word
then someone died
remind me there's nothing to fear
but the games we all play
we all like living this way
as family includes no is
a pack of wolves includes no was
3
push press for begins
wonder at shapes held by cloth
dad - what's a lung?
a delivered pornographic diagram
of geography where less is more
looking for new gods
to scratch the surface of safety
small birds on ice for seed
to enter the community
where nobody knows nobody
else or cares one way or the other
who drifts away falls silent
never writes again
fuckups and dies
dad - what's a lung?
4
oh so this is your sidewalk
the software of weather
so mysterious to clouds
i don't know about you people
or machines of the overcoat
i would like to transcribe the rain
hear an elegant example
of extortion personified
suspects fall for december
the year the eyes fell open
against winter and cried for pulp
there is some abstraction going on
deep in aspic of language
this wet city wants words
meticulous or some other
5
the bits of light that don't repeat
the notes off keys
sky cabin fever buzz
or burn of scotch
tape sounds or stereo
phonic purr of soft slurred ice
something to call memory
presents gifts beyond things
figmented techniques between
sounds like between to me
artificial followers and
breeding whirlwinds for energy
we require caffeine at least
i do anyway green caterpillar
a pure state of floor once at all
Displaying 1 of 1 review