EDITORS: Ken Harris, Jim Leftwich

Address: 977 Seminole Trail #331, Charlottesville, VA 22901

Thomas Lowe Taylor, Ken Sherwood, John M. Bennett, Jeffrey Little, Jake Berry, Michael Basinski, David Dowker, David Hunter Sutherland, Vincent Ferrini, Scott MacLeod, Holly Day



milk from the fierce
stars, divinity
meanwhile, I must have
passed through,
a cabaret, fewer tears,
replaced by names
of persons.

like a carp.

on the roofs,
weapons of unfamiliar
shape and
remarkable view.

collar of dead stars.

not to mention
the shadow of
the marvelous,
beginning to be
useful.  faithful
companion, big as
houses, nothing inside
but starch,
in its shadow.

mercilessly on sheets of glass.

a few liberties, then she
delightedly bit.
invisible crew, living
in intimacy, end of
and the bottom
of the sea.

rain like a harp.

properly speaking, these are not
brushes, as when one is within,
earshot, life, of a thistle,
beneath kisses.  enough
to make their appearance.

let her be on her guard.

nothing more
tragic, really.
thieves are
...boiling sea,
managed only to pronounce, terribly
clear without seeing it, it's
the only thing, he asks.

I was afraid.

please myself.  abandoned
her to the pistol
grip, a vague good
evening whom I no longer call
anything but...fortunes floundered.

I am not on earth willingly.

you   have certainly heard of
the inhabitants with
rubber gloves,
the stage of luxury,
guided by staggering,
a false weed to be undone.

since by firelight all women.

through the roof
like a sleepwalker,
opinion of people,
some flat on their bellies,
awakening at twilight under an
aqueduct, no one knows
the human heart like I do,
slung like workers, filled
with tears, her black
dress her force
of circumstance, mated
with a blusterer,
beginning to hover
above our heads

except for the little white shoes.



          SOUND    OFF         
          (from the bo
            ok of the sa
              me  title by 
            Spencer Selb
            without inte
              ntion  words
            that have ab
          sorbed the s
              columns sway
          outbidding m
            emory re-
              collection t
            hat g(r)azes
          tense  field
            of  forensic
            culars, vague
          clouds  words
            doors without



     Decline of the Obsolete

There is a death that does not sleep

hanging around as a mal-odor

between the fissures of decaying wings

variations of cliches in homes

by the Merchants of Metaphysics

Emporia the Sun is blinking at

that this is only a transitory Theatre

the hour of weighing of the soul on the scale

approaching, Hierachies collecting

repositories of whoring Ink at large

the plateus of the Unquestioning

Insurances against Death & oblivion

the ache in the messages of the signs

& the rejoicing springs of Innocence


Vincent's Ferrini's Fortieth Book
Thomas Lowe Taylor

Listening to him talk about vocation during a reading, you realize he's
talking about the Stations of Attention, locating the moods and sensations
via voice of states of being which attend from a complete world view, one
which includes his corporeal chakras and an enlivened and illumined eros.
 No, we are not listening to erotic poetry, but to poetry from an erotically
enlivened man, in whom vital energies are successfully utilized in erasing
the poet's body from the physical body and so blur the inner/outer illusion.
 "I am the poem...we are all the poem...." he says expansively, noting that
it was in the mutuality of his friendship with Olson that his sense of what
poetry does was made firm, not by who Olson was, certainly a contributing
factor to the depth it achieved, but more in the fact of friendship that the
word became flesh.

And so Vincent inhabits all religions in his embracing of them, and not with
any attitude at all save the tonality of his line, be it brief or vernacular
or pure juice, it is all cosmos and he is its evidence.  This is ecstatic

Vincent is a manifestation of the sacred and complete man, saying that he is
"a communicator", perhaps enlivening the notion of what a poet is, he
inhabits the personal with his Word, noting that for the most part, we have
lost touch with it.

But if you aren't somewhere, that is, manifesting yourself, all of 
this takes place in a vacuum--hence Vincent's sense of community, of being
somewhere, interacting with other people in their lives.   His poetry is a
poetry of voice, of encounters, of a life lived fully among and within other
people.  "A person is a person because of other people" goes the saying.  No
ivory tower here.

The poems strike not like artifice, but as true speech, sometimes embellished
by poetic effect.  A word is a just cause, not to be misused or misplaced, in
each place made specific by its use.  In much that is about today, the
plasticity of material is so disrespectfully used as to deny many "word
products" their vitality.

To have a poetry which is not out of one's life and vision is to write
someone else's poetry, or perhaps no ones, perhaps it is just "to write".

Word as flesh, not as signifier.

The Magi Image, 1995,  Igneus Press, 310 N. Amherst Rd., Bedford NH 03110,
135 p., $10.


======================     By David Hunter Sutherland 

On stilts, Cyrano courts Neptune,
blind to the
time-worn cracks and
centuries coarse ephesias, 
of her moons. Gone this view
of her suns,
In my absence,
behind half-opened doors
Susanna finishes Figaro, 
Daedalus takes wing,
and the price of cloves falter..

Stay !
this beaten path,
balm it with a  lullaby,
and Spring it too a halt,
In my absence.
(shiploads will burn..)

Letter To Valentinius (c.140)
==========================          By David Hunter Sutherland


She wriggles of life.
Wrapped in a palm, 
pale like gypsum's
flakes of ivory.
She wriggles of life,
carved in the harsh erotics and
pews whose albumens of flesh
awe back her prescence....

on her first day 
her mouth was yours,
her lips, 
statutes of a testatment
of a tribe gone mad.

bring me your visions
your allusion on mule,
your fires' brightest Channels
(Meshach, Shadrach, Abdenago)
your psychic, high on
wooden monocles 
whose talk of 
animal theism, desert terror, phantasm,
are veins in the cataclysms of her palm.
This world is 
my love, 
tell the believers
your daughter has name.

Faithfully yours,



      Paean for Jake Berry's 3rd Note

The waves are underswayed

underoperating implied

the sounds hit the walls

of listening & the digitals bouncing off

in directions lost feet grapple for

to round out a footprint

so it can be found where it came from

but it's already gone

the knockings try to hold

even as the syllable sinks in the ozone

all's open as the air is sucking for

the news to make a chancing

tangents are glintings of the Glorious

talking reassembles

speaking briefly as a cat scratch left

on the cerebellum for posterity

the gas in value's pushed Joy off the edge

& the audience is suspended in unhearing

the atmosphere is alienated from the ore 

& nothing stays for long in any thing

Schooling is a ritual of the marketplacing

Imagination is stuck in grease

politics have eyeballs hanging

out of white skulls borrowed from cliches

the revolution is a fast backward

so far ahead the language is groping

Ah but the energy is freed

at a pace the magical box is genuflecting to

   June 24, 1995
(see Juxta/Electronic #1 for the piece by Jake Berry)


DAILY LOG Oct 15.95


Ed'd out.  Calm day follows disjunkt outlet
Pass to less remote areas underneath sense,
but outer'd houses at remote sensors flung
doubt erases censure nor hosted parties' time.

You'd at blisses called more inner research involved
his own distances resolved from the flighter pool
they've callowed one two three anymore detail
therein nor outer clutters distinct arrows noon

where held'd hours declare newer blooms t
Northern reposures where'd thence a word or more
holdens called-field doublers recall flutter
whose arcs deny less now & thence restore

Homer cuds pealer mist descry polar attribute
needles flood flower her's smiler the poem
as her legs delimit pressure's tounger  heart to
resume there-touch angles markered silence.

These hours spoken acts recall tenor leaven, nixed
meals the souler spoke and centered at love's
peculiar mix of the neglected & obsess.  sky's
laters rebirth and love twin signs of release.

hard between yr sighs, another spot and room
persists beyond expectant airs nor remote
passion holds intents the purer shower in plan.


Your dick.  I'm not schemed between yr eyes, a spot
and center poles relaxed berms remind overture
to hints between remarks that held nor shines
have spent responds acclaim singing hours' repose.

Then-spun light-slaked dust of centuries.  Our luck.



Why the aspirin filed along the sink or formic acid
legs 'n feelers window closed the antonym agrees
your face with provolone susan nashed the hair in-
stained with films of light.  You cannonballed or
same, canon, rowing 'cross the fatty lake
lake tombs, loaf rowed of afternoons' raking head
and sleep the pills-cans failed floating 'cross the
scummy basin naps alone your tree feelers loose 'n
wavey ("admonition") theory of the consequence or
susan-link//eye on brachiopod "or case of why"


David Joseph Dowker

        _a series of semi-automatic poems_


She entirely arbitrary
addressed to true him
virtually specifically
across obsession flurry
(iconic smile finally)
that correlate of
the who of another
navigated the hemispheres
(ionic gesticulating)
across programmed array
of related memory clusters
attached to utter form
the sensation of before
configuration the intent
to arouse the patterns
to access Her code
across chaos (She skyfile)
and exchange derivatives
of the folded life (hypothetical)
He resolved himself of course
and decided


thread _becoming-dream_:
phase maintenance mostly
peripheral flutter to lingual
and ephemeral fields
the far-away
in this therefore
apparent wood
a nest
in that allusive
Tree of
the fibrillating source
file  hereafter
meanders of the floating
_becoming-animal_ dream
said in string message:
green rains through previously
read receptors therefore
a strangely
actual dream self
at the periphery
has my thoughts
phasing to the valences
far-away the light
artificial moonfull
flesh nature thing
my fictional agencies
_becoming-human_: maintain
world / later read: incidental
green ticket scarlet rains
this key to no room


we the defamiliarized and premised social ontological machine
this ancient textual night being a resolution: to stay
and be made namely from throbbing need
how frighteningly careen her thoughts of his body
through extra-linguistic media
his mouth to anxiety the controlled ecstacy
how immediately the representation shrugged
why camouflage desire given our current inert
uncontrollably poetic situation
consciousness non-totalizable context
smiling the very being


the structures of intensity between
molecular you the sender
and the table physically hard
metaphorically doing that strata
entirely energy to mechanism of
writing that continuous sorcery
a like literally flow
the same nervous deployment
the dynamic industry of
divine systems propagation
a plateau of calls to all
after this be multiplicities
impulses over the rhizome lines
of receiver and sender the netlong
vegetable rapture or route to
chlorophyll consciousness
the same syntactic chains
say akin to again to have
multiple memes non-ordinary
awareness actually flight
these lines technically


automatic word organism
detached mental plasm
consummate thought compass
written continuous as
another channelled pattern
gestures idiomatically
defined ego motif
calibrated to cyclic entities
kinetically culminated in
perforated modern culture
protozoan propagation of
universal standard bipedal
clone and aural whorls
of attuned psyche
necessarily flow formats
beneath spoken segmented
surface ever chatter
pouring in radiant


intra-syllabic babble
mostly indecipherable
elf chatter what
chromatic Venus glistens
with sheer shimmer
in the tensity
a ruby signature
space-time tuning
mammalian brain
shift re-
verberates re-
sounds around
fingered displacement
so position echo to silence
go thrive in futures
with murmurs between
temples empathic
impossible transmissions
does consciousness inhabit
waterfalls estimate
the tremor dwell
correspondence stations
ping! increasingly
relation hiatus
with flow through
indicating water


the gradually laminated brain
the habitual conditional accretion
of intent bending with surface
recognition gulfs by volume
will generate memory but
beauty given symmetrically
hyperventilates visibly
(clarify assumptions
then learn Her story
while the lines compile
the think constant)
before whenever dense
presence in brain swells
immense yet related
shaped world
everything gradually patterns
regions of flickering increasing
so given being to wave through
always contriving disaster
precipitating millions
each invades each
and we of bodies
almost extravagance
ever this: to have Her
determines all work and mappings
of touch repeat speech events blur
before difficult auspice


same you intensely physical
being the like self the because
deterministic cosmic axes
mirror feeling over motor culture
engage activity inhabit human planet
the heart of pivoting everything
original magnetic order
however the fractured other
transcends occasion that
same energy doubled to
however you pleasure
each sensual absolute
barrier burst to immaterial
enthusiastic intensity
exponentially nervous
consciousness itself
suddenly instantly


================                  By David Hunter Sutherland

Images of Venus, writhing in her sea,
sunlit specimens un-breathing,
while the fisherman baits a picture
whose artist lies nascent in dreams.
(Because there is a lake, a breeze, a setting sun...)

And, so it is for Mars - whose disillusioned self
sits fetid in his waste,
red hands - white sands,
fissure trapped islands of eyes...
in a large sense   searching,
(should even this escape him),
there is a world, his star, our universe superimposing
this ratio superior of
brutal half-truths turned law,
icons seething in his net as
your quantum gesture flips
baited on its' back, 
sun-backed to submission,
answering death.
(should even this elude you),
There is an ocean, and a bigger fish to catch.


       In College After the War

a young he     these occasionally
made them all
into veterans
in a job taken running     even a loved
little dark

she an old     he was the like one
to attract her
falls and the nowhere nothing hoisted
to attention     like bird
shall be a slow bird     air
and the scarecrow     she lies

in a corner they floor
he sits in her favorite     got his horn
to cut the like girls down
locked up     now breaking
only wine




does a wild shirt
have a bear
wisht in a wrinkled


melody cucumbers
fig leaf moon liet
which soft furry
has been in the rain
of a witch's
pubic hair


=============                         By David Hunter Sutherland 

And the Wave, 
porous to touch,
collapsed at your door.
The full dissolution, "OM AH HUM !", and
mantras of desperation, (heartbreak...despair),
spiral down an orbit near
a retrograde star.

Yet on a small scale,
Life coodles and croons to you,
from an atoms' gestation,
to the milk and manna of meal for a sun.
Our toss and turn dream Buddhas' tight subtle bodies are
muons that bind you in this cosmic soup of
strange bedpartners,
heavy velocities,
and ghost orbits.

Now affixed within this gaze, you sleep snug.
Friend to the ethers and comforts' raison d'etre.
Both, borders in a universe,
whose cause and effect portend as
loves' finest vision;
a vision of swords into shares,
sheaves into rain,
rain into your silence...
(as an eerie peace ensues.)



        Fond Ah Lee

is won

        spinning at rest Lao Luv's

is Lina's mind

around a willing fulfielding & complete

to be phased

no wasting

& the sounds in her(ea)

dunagreed angels in Congress

remember this is by the channel

through the bonebox



the Poem is in

fueling & controlling freely





Touted the very glans batiment smoke ("undies")
tuned and flat through sopping chains of steel wool
the "berry jakes" you stood adobe shaft and needle
rite ("write") too all so much for scaling, razor
wire the alternating pall of wheezing wasps
walks for minutes circles glistened pit the nates tree
aeoliates right thin erection left.  You wheedled his,
"dopey food" or candor wound stuffed with wood and
gelding brains.  (Mood flat jumping chickens redim-
embered through your patchy vacuation ("corse touted")



DAILY LOG Oct 1.95

"So many roads, so much at stake"  Bob Dylan, Dignity


Longer forms permit passion its due and entry
how you'd painted-out her eyes from former stains;
these lighter hours remind you of whetted outward light
between her eyes, a spot and send her out again.

I'd at had.  Was enough, or spread?  Nor denial not.
though.  In between sentences roughed plantaris cast
nor forward claims to halt or sing completed rooms
are cast and doubt removed, relived in terms other.

Then no holds release after calm no season en retard.
What's seeming less intent or hovered motif's claimant
was removed, a tumor, or less visitor than plinth,
or scoriated hoop intend echo from heathered palms.

He'd them after other authors, calm remove no smokers in
within chance what takers had implied, thus beyond scope
intense to idles in daily life retain improved wassail term
she'd been sent'or whipped-white shafts' rude snouts.

Inert prudes resign their anchor-wit, them stuffed ports
hold not their own Captain said's bye thanked betters ought
apparent clues for tooth sd reel, then fish behead, otter
's musk healed animate platforms of attentive spoons laid.

Other rovers correspond.  Plight attends fancy, weald.  Not.
Hear her then spent actors remiss perspire leaving the
butt held to send her center short marks permit, en coeur.

My dick.  In shower short shaft white extent to purple.
From retreat to pure stance; another shallow beckons-out
there pride re-sealed then pusher spots a sigh coming
at outs from poorer sentiments as revealed daily meant.

Love's weigh no rancor begin explore tunes; what luck.




     fragged in the hold      the QE2     bearded in a floral print dress

     & england's cindering offshore the barbequed new york asphalts

                    but it didn't     never     like this all wrong
                    wind machines
                    they rumble & vacuum to life, a life
                    as the metronome of a string-tied parcel
                    abandoned on the rubber floor
                    of a crosstown bus in heavy traffic

                    a small pennsylvania
                    town of 3000
                    its hand-less
                    citizenry up-in-stump
                    works itself into lather
                    a  latin rubric
                    like the french
                    to a hunting jacket
                    on the living & the dead

                               as if a huricane wasn't enough


            the calisthenics of trees
            is a subterfuge i
            cannot allow
            undermining as it does
            the tendentious soverergnity
            of my cash cow the empirical pinion

"there is no chronometer more bankrupt than the windsock of change"

my pockets
locked to me/i
will wear my father's shirts

     briskly through the fistula where once there was a wall


================            By David Hunter Sutherland

Worlds pregnant in worlds,
and the buzz of matter is not beatific vision or
pleasure, if pleasure is found in that original sin:
the Father of Lies whispers, "Is this paradise?",
as intuition of pure Being looks in opposite directions,
vaguely concerned for transitions, events,
ulterior or exterior motives.

Alien half-knowns, animal faith and eventual passions
privy my thoughts in their private collection,
stationed between Here and Now,
requisite relativities of labouring minds
cling to this pervasive sphere of
sound blue skies and "B" flats, 
illusions of positive depths pure and
simple strike my captive audience
whose view now bent on idealized natures,
yell Jump !


DAILY LOG  Dec 2, 1995
Thomas Lowe Taylor


Leaner streaks to pool around house and tense again
the dream persists within hours, your hand along and
signing it into these later schemes resist to tempos
throne and gong intense or outer heaves to paler moons

hearing harkers pinned astute centers at her movie's
pealers truck-stroke down toward where they'd been
tunnel piercing tracks leading forward at tunes 
he brought within, no stranger at luck's heart.

Local antics their own replete, set conc to arrive in
them then spin the door's day was to me sent
how I'd made inquiry in song and meditation, yr
messages plainly done toward whom you sent me.

Here you've danced across my room at last the photo
in resounding clarity marks the sign coming again
a less impulsive record of starts the mooner spin
the darner, no sin examination under another glass

Hope no mere definition of where'd you bin attached
at the lefter hand-set in sentence noun or paragraph
for mark internal strokes the heater's mix obtains
their lost larks receding intent or other toward her

Pealer dusk the throat benign sender that his harps
lead aside aloud pins without reference to some
inner dude he'd left behind without starts.


Your dick.  There's to husk nor powder arts to tune
the air between us a message or a palm insetting
flavors presume toward the marking time in sent her
powered plume resume arc and light time bending.

Heart's time flood arrive sense become soon.  My luck.




     Tracking heliosphere dangling, the local police fabricate
the blue flesh and circulate among the regulars.

     No rhythm explains griffins dive bombing Mecca, but
the black current is a bladder forecasting.

     Exile is atonement.

     Swans are forbidden, planting foreskins in Jupiter ash
nestled from eyelash to keyhole.

     Lifeless as bait we gather for doctrine in the wings of
chainlink maelstroms wound through succulent bitch.