BBC World Service radio ran a brief interview with me today concerning Flarf at 3:24pm PST.
The teaser they read at the top of the hour: “Flarf: it’s like poetry, except it doesn’t rhyme, swing, or even sound good. So is it art—or just internet drivel?”
Three Poems by Cathy Eisenhower
correspondence course
That
FESTSCHRIFT you
expected go on doing
that when-the-woman-was
drunk she
always thought sober
she’d seen the moon in
3 phases at
once--
then there was
nuthin.
My little house--
from which go moons unreliant
& physically being
dangerous to
whomever stops
by my person--you
drop in too
chaste in the day for
my weariness to lift
its skirt & suck
your fucked up
shit into
it--no or yes is
not a difference very
in me any
more
* * *
10-29 – Time is up for contact
integral containment
how many times
I go into
you
or vice
without versa
AB over
CB does not
equal AD
over CD and that
is the entire
thing equation
chalked on
the chalk-
board synthetic as
crib-driven
wallabies claiming
victim status for
the nail-tailed.
x times in x days &
47 thoughts lined up
& you shoot one
at a time & then the
eclipse can
not be seen from
the bi-jou ca-fe because
don’t look straight at it
with those specks of
blacklight
I called you on the CB
in 1992 AD
from that seedy bar of ours
& did not will it
AB all end all
* * *
Leaning long upon any Part maketh it Numme, and as we call it, Asleep.
too much
leaning on the
numbat
shake it
off
ventricular
numbat
asleep at the
drugstore he found
the pillbox
empty & it is
a nexus not
a junction keep
ratting on the
glib/frown for
a state of
impotency/never
or ever or
bust about the
tropics feeling
next to
nothing
