I am pleased to bring to you the second virtual
edition of inter\face. As I stated in inter\face 3,
"inter\face is an offering." Take this as a
gift and enjoy. Comments are appreciated.
email to BH4781@rachel.albany.edu.

          inter\face 4

        March/April 1993

she was upstairs crying:  finch, leaf,
build.  God.  are bristles of our sour heart.
her hair like it always did.  tired old brown
books.  rush of air given a nickname....>
well-used binoculars.

he fell into the trough:  to melt her face
against the wall "bed of lists".
I say that. can't comfort me.  she gets the
urge to be vulgar - meshes - divination
rinsing smoke in the childish field.

fingers understand hands
borne from the trees
I love this thing
whispering between us

believing it has body.

from  Elizabeth Robinson's Bed of Lists  & John Malboeuf's
Whispering Loud

Part Two of "Inter\face Is:"

interface is to charm burden from
                     our mother is the
ship we're in
                            good to record
the passage
                             imperfect &


Now I dream in text, floating
through tabs on a white rectangle.
Inter\face is physical; I can touch it.


sometimes i forget what interface
is.  then there it is a bookmark
tucked  in days.   to know where
we stand.   our pages a-flutter.


Emily R. Novak

Lisa Schapiro

Marc Guillaume

Wilma Kahn

Katie Yates

Nancy Dunlop

Benjamin Henry

Kurt Lohr

Join Malboeuf

Michael Basinski

Emily R. Novak

Illinois Retrograde

Dead grass/candles/a fire in the woods.
Two mouths open and staring in at the
flames in the freezing cold, warming
themselves as the snow starts up. And
no one realizing I woke up to the
rocking backward.

No one believes you when you say the
will has been separated, when there are
pieces of things and nothing whole. A
surface disguising a bruise

(So the preface reads, two roads next
to each other on a stage. The speaker
moves above one for each particular
monologue. One's facing the mountains,
one's facing flatlands, fields of corn
up to your knees.

You could say they mean exactly
opposite things. The flatland a return
to innocence, the mountains a desperate
escape to overcome it. But it's the
same thing)

Back and forth it's the same thing.
An ocean of stars.
Cement roads breaking down, running for
the woods.

Two bodies in a wood house in the
mountains and she can do nothing but
record details. The smell of wood
burning and the sound of its collapse.
The lamps made out of tin cans. The
lake freezing.

ballooning outward/ like a body sore
from reclaiming


Katie Yates


having not seceded successfully into
"where are you.  I have been... etc."
roses as usual my/sincerest effort to
see ^ not in the/a Blakean sense so
much as you might have imagined my hand
in it  -you know- revocable Woman {rich
by night & day}  - the rich plays on
sensibility on which we rest in assured
Avenue steps.  So much the light tender
play [A]  And you in equality that is
light's grateful inequality - smell old
humor happiness both half stalked
Poeima Nouthelikon.  Cythrigen (shepard
mother) "Love forever" my nest is
arable" tabernacle globe command air
and fortune.  The emblem of saturn of
waiting still for the return:  Glauki,
Talei, Kumodike, Nesalie, Speiro, Thoe,
Halie, Kumothoe, Actaie, Limnoricia,
Melite, Iairo, Amphitoe, Aguai, Poto
and Proto, Pheirosa, Dunamene, Doris
Panope, Galetia, Nemertes, Apseudes,
Kallianaissa, Klumini, Ianeira,
Ianassa, Maira, Oreithya, Amatheia of
the deepest bath "but we ran ahead of
it all" - you might be the other girl
of lime by the intimacy of eyes of
restiveness of heart to breathe the
fire of these cares blow your smile at
me in aspect.  I sent thee a poem late
and always slow "will not hurry a path"
in windfall in honey rush of snow
(Voice Off).  Any other > Transmute.
The old fields permit us this stay.
Say how you knew that grammar.  initial
dove.  initial blue.  initial light
arrogance.  not the foreplay of an
hectic insistence.  cells above earth
until metal moon carve bone say cut
cherry wood obtrude yellow gloss for
now:  silence is useless:  a hull:  a
fruit:  see:  love:  wet root from
shadow limned face of cold.  infinite
water.  the chiasma of blossom.
addressed between grates boarded
against the darkening darkening (or
Winter rose) to fetch:  she hid in the
drunken sand row.  born stinging of the
crane fire just scarcely midnight blue
dispersal * sun:  a world to climb in
nectar's clock-wise enumbrance copper
round our rubric intrusions:  After a
night of thinking ebb of the whole arm
white gold autumn flashing infinitely
burgeoning would not further divide the
80 flowers.

The Return of Painting

from having   no money
from trying to sleep w/him
what she tried to but (an
orange, an egg, a cabbage) a
misery of sequencing (cropping}
finding) out horizontal & vertical
breaking up the Fiction:  the same as
her, her extreme surface
& the orange in-the-darkness runs
// ( the complete child hood waking)
is astonished ~ quietly his long arm
quietly, very happy, very water, (an
ape is always drinking) congregate near
to me. be
helpful.  on the outset.

walking, curled up
on the metal deck
then sleeping on
the floor, a baby
in the dark chewing

to see into maybe
happens with the
towns all around us
caring about you
so it could be the -
only hanging

call (if) a prayer

just go out in the sky
just going out in the sky just this
very gentle manner
above: the streetlight   blue sky
insand:  door opened

"And  is the inside of this"

"The Night"
come lightning thru the lattice
(the inside of this)
recording?  Come
lightly to beg
cannot drop
her body
into her mind
(that night)
young sole
come in

force the body to bruise Ohio body
bodily going down is
it is empty:  a tiny

holed up in her apartment
or  not floating - (married)
the dead body outside her
having nothing to hide (cardboard)
weeping swimming among (others)
car goes in the sun
over sawdust kissed
being ill - the terminal
acutely ravine with rain
because her eyes  (charity)
Jump. Cling.  To Return.
so  clear.   so beautiful.
loving beforehand
openly  - a part
&  she wanted to
convince -him-
Red Sea

        the magnolia tree

crush of trees assuming
they  would part brushing

just go out in the sky
just going out in the sky just this
very/gentle manner

She gets out.  Expresses.  Her body is
the car.  Between the.  Just keep his
eyes open.
from the heat of weeping (in him)
utterly despondent.  [matching  aprons]
buds  on the
trees.  Slate cored.  The same as sand.
Not spoken between them.  Not coming
Her on.  Gentle kneeling.  As Galileo
opening the bud.  Layers to avoid it.
metal.  Glowing poppies.  Withdrawn
from her.  The fan turning.  My body.
Withdrawn from her.  A long time to

        Glowing poppies
        We see this.
        Not using the mind
        But-only one

                                Door opened

Lisa Schapiro

Lucy in the Sky Doesn't Live Here
Anymore: The Sequel

You sit
belly on your lap
facing your computer
lawyer-shirt strewn over
the back of the
old couch.

You smell
of cigarettes
and car fresheners
as you stare and stare
straight into the screen,
taking a second out of
every few
to smoke another cigarette
out in the garage
or make a comment
about the television show
filling the family room.

You will be sitting there
until maybe eleven or twelve at night
then get into bed
with a new day of litigation
or client meetings

How did magic tricks
and teaching me to use the wok
drawing me pictures to show me
the principle of time travel
become this?
How did you
lose your childhood altogether?
Mom says:
back when daddy had a personality...
but you do still, you must.

The man in the undershirt
once wrote poetry
i know, i have a copy of the booklet
it wasn't great poetry,
but it rang of your inner depth
your mental strength
that I have always admired.

You once had a brother
who I never got to meet
he was crushed by a truck
when he was sixteen years old
and you have never mentioned him to me.
You used to light up smiling
young and full of dreams
all the time.
Despite your younger brother
who I think you purely forgot.
How much of your brightness did you
bury with your baby brother?

Or were you happy --
Grandma always liked him better.
How much of your brightness remains?

Now you pour your brightness
into the computer
you let it sing to you in the garage
with your cigarettes
but you don't put my finger
in the make believe guillotine
anymore or show me how
you can make a little gold
butterfly locket
appear out of thin air.
You put that locket around my neck
and I told everybody
that daddy did magic
at the living room table
just for his little girl.
That was when you were
my infallible daddy
that was when i didn't
wonder about your past
your inner feelings
that was when you came
before any other man in my life.
Somewhere that changed.

Every once in a while
you embrace me
or tell me a joke
or play ghost with me
and I see daddy again.
Why can't I be your
little girl anymore?
Why doesn't you magical computer
astound me
as did your magical tricks?

John Malboeuf
Kurt Lohr
Nancy Dunlop

Subj:   easy listening


sorry that you disappeared friday, but
you were lucky you missed the fight.
thank you for the tape. and happy
birthday.  kurt and i would like to
take you out for beer when chance
comes. who is on that tape? i do like
that one song that you played earlier

for the record...

caverns echoing externalities
am i digging now or
sweeping up nether stairwells
she is spinning
thru the hole in my clouds
nos lavamos
we wash ourselves
but from where we started
in the crinkled ocean waves
in the corral reef
under the sweet bed light
winding carving my way thru
your mountain valleys
searching for forbidden city
between sanctuaries
hand over hand
except for regulars
there is no balance or contradiction
which finds itself ringing
in tabernacle urgency
we grow to carrier pigeons
saving face

a bridge in nowhere
for people i am
to take them back to
nowhere but i care about nowhere
where is nowhere
i could be real negative here
or technical
the situation would agree
this too can settle to
small pockets of water
at the tops of highest mountains
bridge bridge repair my bridge
Donde esta?
stacked natural
bridges and mountains
only the most delicate flora survive

but we can
get back to this
sometimes the escarpment
opens to wider waters
the causeway between
risk and wrong
has collapsed
contrary action
impulsive organism a bridge
this tiny animal does swell
beyond the petri dish
understanding what fire is
or smoke or trees in spring
city limits
sky line permits
brief glimpse of what
is to come. city limits
to repeat to
la mesa de noche
el lavaplatos
the arc is the support
situations don't explain themselves

if there were just a little more $$
or a bridge
from here 
to there (YOU)
hair pin turns
through jaded issues


see: our sky filled
aeroplanes dragging
words thru holes
in young clouds.
left lane closed
must rely on the right side
to think... it's not easy
being me
finding it like coins
in grass
webs continue
poking up over division
lost no i am found
Donde esta?
all its angles
water running over
sections under place
abetted factions we are
close now parked
and buffeted by wind


Wilma Kahn

julie glass cat

give me a cat with its head in a can
give me a glass ashtray half sunk
in artificial jungle at joy fong's
give me a julie head wrapped
in a doll's cap or bandage

a cat head stuck in an orange juice can
drags its butt along oakland drive
i pull at the can but the cat
bats with front claws

glass ashtray    what is your secret
why are you sunk
crystal ship in an artificial forest
you oddity you queen you idol you idyll

red hat/white cap covers your head
you are abrasive and fragile
as red coral  a bandage  a tuft of hair
you point to a hollow  a vein
here they give chemo

orange cat hesitating on the edge
to walk in the road to end
mike tears off the can and
i think i see a sick eye
the cat bounds away
a man comes out to watch

the ashtray
i'm not taking it out i say
not me says mike
let it stay a transparent wreck
in a dry green sea

i try to pull off the orange juice can
to what horror of cylindrical head
or bare brain
i saw a sick eye
the cat bounded away

julie jewel you odd egg
tufted with stuff
hair growing back a new color
old hair out  new hair in
odd egg  brown/white  odd egg

orange cat  orange juice can
faced like a gas mask  turning here
turning there  what can you
see hear smell

glass ashtray  jaunty smile
light glints  glass ashtray
planter/divider  glass ashtray
I don't want to see

and julie how could i tear off
the red hat  fling
the bandage from patchy head2/13

the can must come off
how can a cat breathe
have a head shaped like a can
not know even without
seeing that cars can kill

glass ashtray what do you hold
i want to know no i don't
it is indelicate to want to know
i want to know i want

glass ashtray come to me
i summon you to rise from the wreck
to julie jewel to uncover the egg
to give it air to smell and hear
and taste to cat to cat
freed of can to run to bound
a rabbit cat to bound
across a black man's yard
glass ashtray what is your miracle
what is your julie jewel
glass ashtray a cat with head
shoved in a can glass ashtray
julie jewel unravel your bandage
let your tricolor egg breathe


Benjamin Henry


1.      I look out from a view
        not including myself
        except one shoulder,
        two hands, a lap -
        I feel hair -- imagine a
        reflection,     faintly:

Apples creating caterpillar webs,
shreds, spillage
semen strewed about the room,
I declare necessary
specific presentation, ode(or)
a frost would/could no closer touch
nimbly, nimbly
                follow close
          imagine fallow fodder,
                simplicity --
                wave form(at) [and]
                        (So I am)

whipped, snap, attack, flow,
angry me to(o) lean close [if ever]
I knew : the distance!
Shimmering like lightning, striking
notes of discord unsounded,
traced in [white] light,
outlined by a deep, blue sky.

II.     I know this reflection
        must not end, I allow
        her purification smoke
        to cleanse.

C.      frozen lattice clings
        to smooth surface,

        tumbling, trembling,

        watching the sky for power
                surges, melting heat-
        the pot handle,
                        boiling steam,



Grant it, darn it, grant it,
wait for the apocalypse, forgotten,
those outdoor elements fixed,
the cement holds their path-rail,

trodden, crowded,
I look for an exit sign,        glowing,
                                above me,
                                over the

I do not notice the people dash by,
they are running from crumbling ruins,
toward the forest, taking the highway,

(umber midden, streamy, teary-eyed,
lash beaten, frogged, stampede!;)

-call out for that echo-

-wait for its return-

Marc Guillaume

Lottery Luck

     Sucking my batteries that were
charged by photovoltaics.  I try not to
think this when I think, but it's true.
     I pat my pocket.  Mini-array still
there.  I've got a full charge but I 'm
still nervous.  This could be a lollg
     It started when I won the lottery,
don't you know.  Everything starts with
money, I'm not stupid.  It was a
special lottery lump sum and all.
Suddenly in my lap, a couple of
million.  I never bothered to count.
     I'd always wanted to be one with
everything.  I'm a Zen going way back.
Read the Tao of Pooh, don't you know.
Owl is my hero.  Smart guy.
     So I hired this scientist.  He
said he was well qualified. Something
about neuro-physics, neuro-networks,
neuro-stanford doctorate. Meant nothing
to me.  I just called him doc.  He
didn't mind.  He only wanted money.
     I guess that's the problem.  He
said he could have given me a better
battery if he had more money.  Could've
made it possible to trigger Implant (I
call it my higher self) with my mind
(what ever that is) instead of
something he called a physically
stimulated activation switch. "You
mean, like a light switch so I can turn
on the light in my head?"  I thought it
was funny.  He said he could have put a
self-diagnostic in; keep me healthy and
make me live longer, he said.  Too bad
I didn't have any more money.  He even
said he could give me perfect memory.
You guessed it, more money.
     So I win a lottery, (don't
remember entering) and all I have left
is a bit of silicon in my body and some
batteries that will only accept charge
for another 2 years.  I wonder what
part of me has all the stuff? I used to
know.  Sure do need that memory
enhancer.  Need money.
     What, do I put a want-ad on some
network? (or even the paper!) Youth
with able body and very able, computer
enhanced mind needs work. Who's hire
me?  McDonalds, but they'll hire
anyone, any time, always. Must be some
kind of universal truth.


Michael Basinski

Vase From a Pillow Book

The working fluid must
be contained in these
erotic vessels of an
adequate size and shape
for the physics in hand and
made of cormorants and
humming-birds in human form,
one of them preparing a
liquid in a little receptacle
over a bonfire and stirring
it with some implement, while
a cormorant lifts a
vessel in an arbor of a
man and woman making love,
but it has characteristics
that we do not find in other
cultures, in the presence of flames,
this radiation will mainly be
extremely soft cloud tracks.
inter\face is published by HUB Press down in
the basement of the Humanities building at
SUNY Albany. We use Mircosoft Word for
MacIntosh on a Mac IIci and Microsoft Word
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