D'Agostino's BLUBBERLAND to open in Denver

Just received word that frequent Atlanta Poets Group collaborator David D'Agostino's exhibition BLUBBERLAND: Colorless Colorado will open next Friday, April 25 at the Edge Gallery in Denver. A collaboration with Mickie Boyd, David's exhibition features the contribution of many other artistic players as well, including the APG this time around. Ever since David moved to Colorado, we've enjoyed throwing in bits of text from time to time in support of his inter-medial, often site-specific extravanganzas.

From the event invite:  BLUBBERLAND is...

an "intermedia carnival composed of wood constructions, burnt panels , tar, oil, animal tails, claws, lard, bones, sewn forms, crystals, rubber, rocks, sand, salt, homemade candies, fermented fruits, and poetry shards.

"Blubberland displays the iridescent and opaque character of the Colorado landscape—an historic territory mythologized as the  ‘Colorful’ state, yet imminently devolving as an epicenter of climatic disaster pivoted by endemic pine beetle kill, massive forest fires, mountain traffic coagulation, and REI fashion schemed athleticism."
What?? Poetry shards...like maybe somebody took a hammer to Keats' urn? Who would do such a thing? My stars. Otherwise, since I know next to nothing about D'Ag's latest beyond what I just cut & pasted here, I'll shut up. Not much I can say beyond, "hells yeah, David!" But I plan on following up, so if recordings or pics from this event surface, I'll make sure to repost them here.


Poet X : a treatise re: verse(d)

 essay 368

western odd is sling fest untuned maybe
is there someone there i can speak to about
the complete lack of positive direction in this universe?
not even uni, more a partisan gang in filtration
particulate removed blinkerdom    look away
the urban south   ain’t got stars
red carpet drenched fulla fueled re-get   lacking its R
 & backed up @ rush (our)
long to the slip grits maybe time happens
a loudshouter irrit-hacker quick-marching thru marshes
a thrower gets flamed
   right in the middle of alt fingering,
or scoop slips on table-ratted slope grouting
.... if cling, then sing,  or Macedon,
outa which Alex whined about worlds—
bawl yer multiverse out:
just one verse being worth an anapest twist-tie
for taking out the prosed rash ..
sadness ain’t worth it,  it’s
   over in the content we vend
(words needing kithara strum replacement therapy ..)
then  if ya get too upper case,
the lowing classes with cud syllabic
just might nick verbs
from out of this 2-year sentence, &
give ya a slight
re-naming procedure ....
like snoring with yer windows open & seeing grey
mushy things go slanking around
the rough tree leans



APG at Sci-Fest

Hey Atlanta people. The Atlanta Science Festival starts March 22. During that week there are some cool art-science events around town. One of those takes place at the Fusion Gallery on Monday, March 24 from 6-9. It's the kickoff for an exhibition by Craig Dongoski called "The Sound of Art". The APG (well Zac and James anyway) will be performing with Craig as part of that event. Zac will be playing violin and James will be playing language. There will be also be brain waves playing. So stop by and watch us do our thing.

Here is a little more info: http://www.atlantasciencefestival.org/events/event/525.


sordid sonnet 23

Gets angry     whips around, assembles
not quite dispensables    anchored w flip oxy—
cold fish call for slap-yappy newsprint:
agency breaks in    to Sir Veil our you;
all across flip lash scurries dim hint..
cereal killer chokes her wheat e’s with moxie !
being camera’d,  yr nod grumbles:
just a season since a minute grew

Then the ents get formidable by burning
a nonbreaking space as the cone re-enters
our altered atmosphere;
weapons will always be with you—churning
of course,  & renting the centers...
A shrugging life-history, flat/clear


sonnetinho: smolder

disarticulation involves the writing of new smiting-systems
a dark just as there are no more stars scrutinizes
light pollution (which is a heavy pollution)
which is lost if it’s pulled apart but this is primarily
the result of and the novas are tamed
embark on a culture moving thru the undergrowth
except that’s an image,  an approach to dissection
or to desiccation something you can attach
even though these things are all said in Caesar’s dialect
interesting dark,  too,  not that there is any longer,  and this
and the archeologists who study it they study morning

good for a lark

[from:    the Loss Lieder]

they laugh, but then the choir fell thru the floor.  it became, or appeared, a moment with odd rocks arrayed for the public.  a nearness twiddles its thumbs far away....and slow beginnings, introductions with feather-time, heap up here all over the understudied.....if you overstep the bounds,  then the hare will lie down with the film makers.  almost the eternity that they shoot for, slithers into the one regard i’d seize.  if electronics replace the scoreboard, then fire on those who wait, buried way inside personal life.  the state of crying slings right past, and then you put your foot on the accelerator, or a mammoth pike of sensation you barrel down.  when i have all the echoes, i’ve heard some right at the beginning, right at the start.  a toy  by definition’s broken, and quietly led forms to glue there.  laughter distant while calling up the, almost the rapid fall, they’ll come toward you with those papers.  an explanation is halted, flim-flam amuck with time in this jar. i’m going to drop it (right now). all frozen the one letter, and  if it went astray i found new gestures, a something else (like something opened).  quite right, then i changed font.  the big one, with appalling dark lines, it was like a painting in a dream.  or commercial in a dream.  forest scents while being stalked by animals with ownership, credence flowing out the everyday....  stunned managers, you’ll find your hats where the cards are.  punch this one, this word, it won’t ring only pay out with clocks under my adjusted “no”