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A Little Middle of the Night (Iowa Poetry Prize) by
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Ipsa
is on page 70 of 82
While Russolo made the organ sound like traffic.
What instrument is the descendant of a weapon, he said.
Is this a joke?
Arp’s faithless reliefs bore down on us from the walls like no art
in history, upon which we spat
as if heaven stank
more than our malty flesh and this dance floor, crumbling.
Something must be stretched, beaten or pierced—
you’ll find sound in the wound! he said.
— Sep 05, 2025 11:19AM
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What instrument is the descendant of a weapon, he said.
Is this a joke?
Arp’s faithless reliefs bore down on us from the walls like no art
in history, upon which we spat
as if heaven stank
more than our malty flesh and this dance floor, crumbling.
Something must be stretched, beaten or pierced—
you’ll find sound in the wound! he said.
Ipsa
is on page 54 of 82
Lacan as an Australian Settler
another abandoned room
for my counterfeit emergence, capture—
my lonely little a? The frontier slides back
daily. See how long such need stays nameless
once we print new money.
— Sep 05, 2025 10:07AM
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another abandoned room
for my counterfeit emergence, capture—
my lonely little a? The frontier slides back
daily. See how long such need stays nameless
once we print new money.
