Front Matter Fall 12
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Fall 2012 an online Journal of Voice BlazeVOX [books] Buffalo, NY BlazeVOX12 Fall 2012 Copyright © 2012 Published by BlazeVOX [books] All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the publisher’s written permission, except for brief quotations in reviews. Printed in the United States of America Book design by Geoffrey Gatza First Edition BlazeVOX [books] 76 Inwood Place Buffalo, NY 14209 [email protected] publisher of weird little books BlazeVOX [ books ] blazevox.org 2 4 6 8 0 9 7 5 3 1 F A L L 2012 BlazeVOX12 an online Journal of Voice Introduction Hello and welcome to the fall issue of BlazeVOX 12. Presented here is a world-class issue featuring poetry, art, fiction, and an arresting work of creative non-fiction, written by authors from around globe. We are continuing our new section in the journal, Book Previews, which as the name describes it is a brief look at some of our new book titles. You will find work from Aaron Apps, Paul T. Hogan, Kristina Marie Darling, Ken Warren, Ben Bedard, Jared Schickling and many others. This is truly a special issue of BlazeVOX. And if you are so moved, please take a tour of our online bookshop. We have 300 titles of weird little books available for sale. So hurray, now get reading! To highlight our vast catalog of great books, we are now going to offer a special each week on two selected great titles and we will be offering them for half off the cover price. Will be selecting new authors and titles each week, so stop on by and add one to your shopping cart before you check out. You’ll be sure to enjoy each of these books! Hurray! Hurray again, and thank you all for your kind support! I am so very happy to be working at BlazeVOX [books] and I am looking forward to a whole new year cooking for Big Night. Cheers to you, and wishing us all a very quiet fall semester :-) If you should wish to sign up for our newsletter, you can do so here: http://www.blazevox.org/index.php/author-resources/sign-up-for-our-newsletter/ Rockets, Geoffrey Geoffrey Gatza Editor & Publisher BlazeVOX [books] Table of Contents Poetry Alex Schmidt Anne Thrope Mary Alyssa Rancier A.J. Huffman Andrew K. Peterson Andrew West Ather Zia Geoffrey Gatza Changming Yuan Dan J. Johnson Doug Rice Elaina Perpelitt Eleanor Levine Genevieve Pfeiffer Gianina Opris Lee Guyette Jorge Lucio de Campos José Hernández Díaz Keith Moul Kay Porter Kendall McKenzie Liz Mariani Marcia Arrieta Mariah Hamang Mark Young Mark DeCarteret Oliver Rice Rachel Custer Robert Whiteside Rowland Anthony Corr Ross Robbins Scott Keeney Simon Perchik SJ Fowler & RDG Thomas Wayne Mason Zachary Scott Hamilton Fiction Amy Savage Rive Gauche Alyssa A. Peck Candid Brent Lucia — Two stories Through Cobblestone Streets Finding Zion James Ballard Los Angeles 1993 Joe Labriola Golden Delicious Mariah Krochmal Harvest Nick Kozma According to Luke Sarah Sorensen Snow Blind Uriel E. Gribetz In The Life Mark Higham Killing Caiaphas Jeffrey R. Schrecongost The Uphill Climb Book Preview Fall 2012 Selections from our new and forthcoming BlazeVOX [books] • The Moon and Other Inventions by Kristina Marie Darling • The Epic of Hell Freeze (What Stays the News) by Richard K. Ostrander • The Pink by Jared Schickling • Slinger: The Equilibrium of Stars by Ben Bedard • COMPOS(T) MENTIS by Aaron Apps • Cheltenham by Adam Fieled • Inventories by Paul T Hogan • Captain Poetry’s Sucker Punch A Guide to the Homeric Punkhole, 1980–2012 by Kenneth Warren • a dictionary in the subjunctive by Damian Weber • Preview of Forthcoming new book: a poem from Dear Darwish by Morani Kornberg-Weiss Fall 2012 Zachary Scott Hamilton Tonalli's Donut Shop (Ne 28th and Alberta) The streets wander in, laughing. Through a window you can watch passengers from a reflection in the sun, cotton candy movements. Small scale laundry-mat tubes drop from the ceiling eroding into halves three times above me. One segment of the room lets down a corner before straightening and collapsing out. The Asians smoke in one corner of time, girls from Europe eat silent food tucked in stripes and books. The workers move with all of their body parts at once, describing areas of the room with bleached rags in segments of muscle memory. My head is a shaft of electricity, blubber fat and nervous cellular, abrupt in the fourth center, one node that should start our four corners we use to create the snail shell. A metronome of fact burns underneath the soda machine, menacing buzz truths at us with a verve in its song noise. The people leak the sun into each other out there, wired telephone conversations crossing through every one of them. Birds before the clouds, trees before the birds, telephone wires before the trees, phone poles before the telephone wires, newspaper boxes before the phone poles, yellow awning before the newspaper box, posters on the windows before the yellow awning and then Europeans and then there is me, an amoeba shelled in a donut shop. Cur.tain i. We’ve seen armchairs yarned in factories as they take away great grandmother with cancer of the lungs, a string of long fluid woven into her assembly apt for a tapestry, a long room that is woven of her memorized thread of choice. A Volta television swamp floats until breath emerges gentleman like, heated from its length of rope nerve. Six looping pythons in one belt 4:44, a tilted mirror and a bookshelf. iii. Theat.rics doub.led (/when spoken to/) four.teen mirr.ors The radio has got to quit following people into my secrets – I have seen the evidence of other shadows doubling with these voices on the radio. A four head of micron, swallowing outer arm crazy springs. Our life hair challenges them, Marquis Sylvania, an albatross equilibrium. Harsh bone puzzle hands twinkle down, to plant a Hammond organ growing from the soil (hours) plastic touching our childhood. He can play very well, his fingers ripe, his hands potatoes, a harm of fire towers giving birth. The year is reconsidered from a palace in the rosemary our mice neighbors twinkle fingers up proposed leaf ( / ) long shapes in hand-assembly. The shouting, undressing old pin point swing sets singing a shallow end of the swamp our pearl necklace – ink warped leaf fabric somehow diamond’s connected rude shelters, but argyle (deceased) +program. Four headed television rug arcs to the necklace pillow butter, luminous hallows inside letters chiseled of ice weave, foam reflection – lamp shade on lamp shade, tan pillow case, mirror maze. ii. A fragile, breakable exhale comes in through a python repetition of half eyes. The silk in my feeling is spinning anchors – one way spatial relations, a low cloud stripes up sticks, a life can be a lovely beginning. A lewd, distracted light emerges, I am resting the speaker to your velvet thigh all rosemary arranged in radio, red language. Sand Library Saturday night sky was a bloom with rose kites of place. Walking into a green book cover stitched together out of soft thread, a micro-tape silhouette beneath the moment, sound pours within, a little river carved from the roof top into a silver horse shoe pond running through the attic (Molecule) A series of hands run along the tapestries beneath the mountain, a capturing of sleep from under the rust oxide fabrics of time. The loosening purpose, [eyes,] ripe with reflection and studying instructor lines of Delta patterns; only so much picture can be made of, since a room is golden marble, stacked in geometry. Five little rooms (inside each other) for lives to grow source, flat in moss, grown in mushrooms. A weaving world of challenges and insects. Windows form in windows again, once the walls disrobe those deep wood lines – They've got to have membranes in walls or stuff gets broken, they've got to move, bend and be broken over and then grow again just like before – otherwise the house dries up and crumbles. The house (five times) crumbles and falls through mountain, and through tapestries. Alone. One clock swinging open. Fall 2012 Wayne Mason Swallow The Dead I sent a number ..... statistics ...... masked names. The “I” was not in place and started working dimwitted and obsolete. We at one point pierced the cold and worked our asses in the minds of prison and the commitment of the world (which is all time). Kneel down, close the eyes, charge back to the stars – swallow the number of dead, grinning, ugly, evil enemies. I'm going down continuously to cleanse the conscience of all expression. It is not piety or debt, not human experience, not in relation to safety or the formulas. By the final touch the image of man is a monopoly. Hermetic Magnetic Theory And Tape Practice Audio montage divination borrowed aesthetics from broken records where cutting up horoscope looping bits, manipulating a substantial and intentional amount of cutting up work and sounds that a solid recorded geomancy transformation into musical compositions. This use of transformation was achieved by many astrological cutting up, elements for speeding up, its own reversing purposes, and looping. Recorded sounds have been more commonly possible in divination to record practice and and store in the sound of symbolic discourse. Aural black mass achieved through rhythmic looping of subconsciousness and the machinery of hermetic noise. Anonymous Windows The mornings eyes nonchalantly fill the deep void squeezing out the gray silence of time here like long downtrodden depression. Purgatories hands drop sharply splitting darknesses excessive splintered nothing.