When you spit on me
I keep falling in love with your
nihilism. Go ahead and lick
the scars left after the cuts. I’m
attracted to the scent of your
apathy. I just ripped my shirt for
the fuck of it. You tattoo anarchy
on my palm with permanent ink.
To know you’re flesh I watch for
you to bleed when pierced. So
you want to dominate my so what.
From 1977 (Ravenna Press)
As part of finding the right tone and context for my punk history of 1977, I redacted a copy of The Rebel by Albert Camus (Vintage Books, 1956, 306 pp.), working on the project between 2014.07.01-2017.11.24. Many themes emerged aligned with the punk attitude of the 1970s as well as my later interest in anti-narrative and history (like the page above).
Read this at the book release party. It fit the 1977 theme perfectly.
1977 is here! It’s my new book, a collage of poems and charts and maps that re-creates the feeling I had when I first heard punk music.
You can be first to have a copy by heading over the Ravenna Press and buy online here. Or …
Those of you who can make it to the release party 4/21 may want to wait … the first 77 get a bonus cassette and poster that evening when you buy a copy from the author. #merchandising
Thanks for supporting small presses and independent bookstores!
I help myself to material and immaterial, / no guard can shut me off, no law can prevent me.
“What does it mean?” Context is a landscape for understanding. Music often triggers memories of place and time. Collage forces contradictions to confront each other. Dice and loop put things together to make something new.
WHEN I CANNOT DISCERN
no arc nor halo
no narrative defined
scars from past cuts
no longer pink
they reported he took
a lot less than usual
there is only one way
this can end—
next time you ask
I’ll say “Yes”