Threescore & ten I can
remember well: with-
in the volume of which
time I have seen hours
dreadful & things strange....
Macbeth, Act II, Scene IV
What lips my lips have kissed, & where, & why, I have forgotten, & what arms have lain under my head till morning; but the rain is full of ghosts tonight, that tap & sigh upon the glass & listen for reply; & in my heart there stirs a quiet pain for un- remembered lads that not again will turn to me at mid- night with a cry. Thus in the winter stands a lonely tree, nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, yet know its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come & gone; I only know that summer sang in me a little while, that in me sings no more. | is no parenthesis & death i think paragraph for life's not a back in my arms laugh, leaning each other: then we are for which says eyelids' flutter is less than your ure of my brain cry—the best gest- all flowers. Don't lady i swear by than wisdom are a better fate approves, & kisses my blood world Spring is in the to be a fool while kiss you; wholly will never wholly syntax of things any attention to the first who pays since feeling is |
In which we are invited to witness the protean prose of Charles Freeland as it enters and bends around our improbably porous bodies like smoke from a library fire. Until one can no longer tell where one’s limbs or eyelashes begin and the author’s sentences end. If either can, in fact, be said to begin or end at all. Pick any one of Freeland’s expertly carved sonic doorknobs and turn to open. The room waiting there contains the very universe, if not the socks, you’re standing in right now. Beyond which: “The doors to the research labs fly open and when you peer inside there are still more doors and probably more doors inside those…” —Travis Macdonald
Eucalyptus is an unforgettable narrative about desolation. There are stories that we can do without, and this is NOT one of them. —Kristine Ong Muslim
Eucalyptus reads like a collaboration between Henry Fielding and Mina Loy. And here's Charles Freeland planning the caper, raising the stakes, and getting it down. —John Hennessy
This book explores influence by crossing out or responding to poets who have influenced me. The Whitman and Andrade pieces are cross-outs, and anyone familiar with the first version of Calamus will notice that I did not respond to the entire collection. I left out pieces that I did not think would cut well for my project or pieces that have too much personal meaning for me. The response pieces to Leopardi and Neruda are probably even more telling, for in these pieces, it is sometimes difficult to see how the pieces directly relate to the original. Still, the influence is there reworked through my experience. —William Allegrezza
Today the
postman brought
me a blow-
up sex doll
which, it is
claimed, can be
     programmed
to become moist
whenever a
music of the
user’s choosing
is played. I tried
it out with the
pipes & drums
of the Southern
Highlanders. It
     worked. Un-
fortunately
the music didn’t
work for me.
john martone’s collages splice images and text drawn from Buddhism, radio schematics, cell biology, and natural history to open the Storage Case of the Unconscious. All of martone's visual poems stand alone as individual works, but he assembles them into book-length sequences, where their effect is enhanced. This volume offers a triptych of these visual books, in full, for the first time.