This Monday we are happy to meet at the Autonomedia warehouse in Williamsburg, Brooklyn (55 South 11th Street 4th Floor, Brooklyn – nearest train JMZ to Marcy Avenue). The meeting is the first chance to publicly discuss the upcoming seminar we have organized with Franco Berardi (Bifo) at 16 Beaver Street (Sept. 3-6). This event is meant to be an occasion to meet people who would like to participate, to distribute some copies of Bifo's most recent book (Precarious Rhapsody) and begin some discussions / formulate questions that we may want to explore in the seminar.
To orient our conversation, we will be considering “Technology and Knowledge in a Universe of Indetermination” which appeared in the journal SubStance several years ago.
To download this week's reading, please visit:
http://www.16beavergroup.org/bifo/berardi.pdf
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Usufruct (III)
Where there is no going away
Is a stain on our national debate
The spectacle of how we care
For everyone no one is prepared
By the law since we portends
This wound not a projection
Others win awards while you
Get the prize still writing the
Particulars of that storm in that
Storm history is always near
We seems this distance from it
Events receding into our present
Present a certain not yet me
An unprecedentedness the ele-
ments partake of this nature
This all-too-human nature.
The recognition that history is always near.
The recognition that events recede into the present.
We lay our bodies down
Preenact gestures no speech
Will suffice for
And this was we we first
Were this
Art this tool that
Discovers a use
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of the body.
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of interacting bodies.
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of body bags.
We touch there is
A paradise after all
The last judgment is for the
Living tunneling
Towards these straight
Gates all translation
Work is a warp
In the dirt of the line
Bearing across our survival.
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of how one feels.
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of how every one feels.
Migration says I when
What it means to say
Is are we still living
Mastery—the primary stressor
We is not we whenever
We see
Like some
Identity formation
Winged
—Rarer sightings
Of being
(repeat insistently)
He was just a Black
Man who liked to
Write sonnets.
We not I becomes
A question for “myself.”
The recognition that forms are not unlike arable land ripe for usufruct--for common use and enjoyment.
The recognition that there are forms we have yet to recognize because the people from whom they arise are not yet
recognized.
The recognition that there are forms we can't imagine yet because the circumstances which would make possible their existence have yet to arise.
The recognition that there are forms we can't imagine yet because the circumstances which would make legible their existence have yet to arrive.
Is a stain on our national debate
The spectacle of how we care
For everyone no one is prepared
By the law since we portends
This wound not a projection
Others win awards while you
Get the prize still writing the
Particulars of that storm in that
Storm history is always near
We seems this distance from it
Events receding into our present
Present a certain not yet me
An unprecedentedness the ele-
ments partake of this nature
This all-too-human nature.
The recognition that history is always near.
The recognition that events recede into the present.
We lay our bodies down
Preenact gestures no speech
Will suffice for
And this was we we first
Were this
Art this tool that
Discovers a use
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of the body.
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of interacting bodies.
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of body bags.
We touch there is
A paradise after all
The last judgment is for the
Living tunneling
Towards these straight
Gates all translation
Work is a warp
In the dirt of the line
Bearing across our survival.
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of how one feels.
The recognition that form is never more than an extension of how every one feels.
Migration says I when
What it means to say
Is are we still living
Mastery—the primary stressor
We is not we whenever
We see
Like some
Identity formation
Winged
—Rarer sightings
Of being
(repeat insistently)
He was just a Black
Man who liked to
Write sonnets.
We not I becomes
A question for “myself.”
The recognition that forms are not unlike arable land ripe for usufruct--for common use and enjoyment.
The recognition that there are forms we have yet to recognize because the people from whom they arise are not yet
recognized.
The recognition that there are forms we can't imagine yet because the circumstances which would make possible their existence have yet to arise.
The recognition that there are forms we can't imagine yet because the circumstances which would make legible their existence have yet to arrive.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Usufruct (II)
The yeomanry of the open
Spaces they may subside
Or be usurped then what
Will be what will possess
What once possessed us
Be become so great devourers
Be become so great men
They will pass into another
Ditch not us not another
Night and so deeply enjoy
What we cannot own
Be become so great devourers
Be become so great men.
Not a forest in sight
We should call a forest
A euphemism for being
And property what has
Discovered me that
I am composed
Of waste lands and
What may not be en-
closed the toxins
That one breathes
The media we can’t see.
Your bruise blood
Martyrs the human-animal
There is no our here yet
No we shit except when we hear
What red dominates
And what black
Dominates what blue comes out
To children
Comes home to children
One weeps because their
Bodies were the case
One cries because mediation
Becomes a muddle.
Spaces they may subside
Or be usurped then what
Will be what will possess
What once possessed us
Be become so great devourers
Be become so great men
They will pass into another
Ditch not us not another
Night and so deeply enjoy
What we cannot own
Be become so great devourers
Be become so great men.
Not a forest in sight
We should call a forest
A euphemism for being
And property what has
Discovered me that
I am composed
Of waste lands and
What may not be en-
closed the toxins
That one breathes
The media we can’t see.
Your bruise blood
Martyrs the human-animal
There is no our here yet
No we shit except when we hear
What red dominates
And what black
Dominates what blue comes out
To children
Comes home to children
One weeps because their
Bodies were the case
One cries because mediation
Becomes a muddle.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Usufruct (I)
Out in that field and you’re not
Even tired of your laboring yet
Under it the sun there is no
Food or suffering there we didn’t
Seem to make and no longer
Telic did we create the many
Mores no one would touch
The wastes the arable earth
They had to create a thousand
Myths to keep us in place
To make a fence around our
Crumbling sensate light.
Of that land grab and when we
Were stranded by property
Men were enlisted go site which
Cataclysm the abandoned earth
Nature could not even dream-up
The dreams of those giants
The plans of those last men.
An instinctual notion of existence
This is where particulars come in
Ask yourself whether language
Will ever be complete all the words
For snow words for feelings we
Haven’t considered metaphor of
The buildings we are bound
To the structure of these things.
Even tired of your laboring yet
Under it the sun there is no
Food or suffering there we didn’t
Seem to make and no longer
Telic did we create the many
Mores no one would touch
The wastes the arable earth
They had to create a thousand
Myths to keep us in place
To make a fence around our
Crumbling sensate light.
Of that land grab and when we
Were stranded by property
Men were enlisted go site which
Cataclysm the abandoned earth
Nature could not even dream-up
The dreams of those giants
The plans of those last men.
An instinctual notion of existence
This is where particulars come in
Ask yourself whether language
Will ever be complete all the words
For snow words for feelings we
Haven’t considered metaphor of
The buildings we are bound
To the structure of these things.
ECOPOETICS 6/7
featuring writing by: Emily Abendroth, Fatho Amoy, mIEKAL aND, Kristen Andersen, Karen Leona Anderson, Stan Apps, Robert Ashton, Mei-mei Berssenbrugge, Christine Boileau, Timothy Bradford, Pam Brown, Julieann Brownton, James Bunn, Andrew Burke, Michael Basinski, Charles Bernstein, Bonny Cassidy, Louise Crisp, Justin Clemens, Jon Cone, Jack Collom, Matthew Cooperman, Gregory Day, Tyler Doherty, Thom Donovan, Rachel Blau DuPlessis, Theodore Enslin, John Estes, Kate Fagan, Michael Farrell, Alec Finlay, Lisa Fishman, Benjamin Friedlander, Forrest Gander, Jody Gladding, Liberty Heise, Krista Ingebretson, Jill Jones, Patrick Jones, Michael Kelleher, John Kinsella, Kyhl Lyndgaard, James Koller, José Martí, John McBain, Ray Meeks, Graeme Miles, Stuart Mills, Peter Minter, Luis-Aguilar Moreno, Derek Motion, Jesse Nissim, Alistair Noon, Lucas North, Antonio Ochoa, Peter O’Mara, Isabelle Pelissier, Carol Quinn, José Rabéarivelo, Daniel W. Rasmus, Joan Retallack, Sarah Rosenthal, Linda Russo, Kate Schapira, Andrew Schelling, Jared Schickling, Jonathan Skinner, Gary Snyder, Juliana Spahr, James Stuart, Alf Taylor, Angélica Tornero, Rodrigo Toscano, Lauren Tyers, Erica Van Horn, Stephen Vincent, Damian Weber, Simon West, Les Wicks 318 pp. $15 PUBLICATION DATE AUGUST 20, 2009 (order here)
BACK ISSUE REPRINTS ARE ALSO AVAILABLE
ECOPOETICS: Poetry, essays, fiction, translation, interviews.
"A (more or less) annual journal dedicated to exploring creative-critical edges between making (with an emphasis on writing) and ecology (the theory and praxis of deliberate earthlings)."
--Ecopoetics editor, Jonathan Skinner
Monday, August 10, 2009
List Poem (Usufruct)
Birdtables... Lace Bedspreads...
Pottery Logs Sawn
To Order Pond
Liners Honey Goats'
Milk Pedlar Dolls
Rotted Mushroom Compost
Eggs Laid While
You Wait Toms
Glads and Cues
Replacement Windscreens
Dwarf Lop Rabbits
Maggots Sweet Corn
Terrier Meal Horse
Pellets Karate Lessons
Haircut Sir? Golden
Labrador Puppies Ready
Soon Clay Pigeons
Cream Teas Welding
& Resprays Baby
Bunnies Pullets' Eggs
By the Tray
Pork Sausages and
Shoe Repairs Concrete
Tubs for Sale.*
all text from J.M. Neeson's Commoners: common right, enclosure and social change in England, 1700-1820
Pottery Logs Sawn
To Order Pond
Liners Honey Goats'
Milk Pedlar Dolls
Rotted Mushroom Compost
Eggs Laid While
You Wait Toms
Glads and Cues
Replacement Windscreens
Dwarf Lop Rabbits
Maggots Sweet Corn
Terrier Meal Horse
Pellets Karate Lessons
Haircut Sir? Golden
Labrador Puppies Ready
Soon Clay Pigeons
Cream Teas Welding
& Resprays Baby
Bunnies Pullets' Eggs
By the Tray
Pork Sausages and
Shoe Repairs Concrete
Tubs for Sale.*
all text from J.M. Neeson's Commoners: common right, enclosure and social change in England, 1700-1820
Sunday, August 09, 2009
We Are This Pack
We are this pack with the fire
On our faces with our backs
To the wilderness we make
A new circle without center
Our elbows where we nearly
Touch each other are new centers
They are points in space denying
Diadem its high life so we are
So many errands licking up
The language in our wake
We survive so everyone survives
Making use of every waste.
On our faces with our backs
To the wilderness we make
A new circle without center
Our elbows where we nearly
Touch each other are new centers
They are points in space denying
Diadem its high life so we are
So many errands licking up
The language in our wake
We survive so everyone survives
Making use of every waste.
Advancing Feminist Poetics & Activism: A Gathering
This should be a pretty amazing symposium:
http://belladonnaconference.blogspot.com/
http://belladonnaconference.blogspot.com/
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