Thursday 28 March 2024

Excerpts from Irene Koronas' manuscript chiaroscuros, Volume VIII of The Grammaton Series

 





Excerpts from Irene Koronas' manuscript chiaroscuros, Volume VIII of The Grammaton Series


23°

 

It quavers between

the terrapin neck

and an old cockshine

 

that caresses an object

with chiaroscuro

 

where sfumato blurs

the contour

it smudges charcoal

 

as waves secrete

the pale oblivion

 

the hallow blue

throbs with harmonics

 

roseate flesh

is shot with gray

nipples a thin brush

 

around this frenzied

vortex. The obsession

with optics

 

mappae clavicula

snips plaster

 

prepares the

transition from monk

to artisan

 

the hierarchy in trade

the ultramarines

the severe pigment

 

in spiritus

on parchment skin

 

alchemy rolls

in color innovavi

 

azurite from copper

carbonate

 

the herbs woad and indigo

ground into hot dung

for a nosehand

 

then mixed with

the foam it turns dye

into pale horses

 

turnsole or folium

from plant extract

red purple and blue

depends on the acidity

 

the rigid stretch

 

 

24°

 

Involute the clench

form and gully knots

the imbrications

in pigment

 

the sliding identity

or rapturous erotic

swarms that drench

and shuffle fantasy

 

with speed conveyance

the winglike shapes

are squiggly 

 

vulval slits

in a chancy dribble

that stains effects

 

and congests

the irresolute surface

in a jumble box

 

an anagram in paranoiac rage

the dusty residue inherited

from nanodada to a pedestal

 

for abstract ardour

the paroxysm

in the octahedron leans

toward a salivating

fishfly on a cantata

 

with the tongue tip

it dries the scab

to their rictus

 

bites the uperuman

and devours

the antiprotons

 

with an oil drop

synchronized

with a quasidope


chiaroscuros, Volume VIII of Irene Koronas' The Grammaton Series, is a hyper-minimalist écriture, melding its aporias with a mix of staccato posthumanism and the historiography of colour.



 

Irene Koronas is an extreme experimentalist. Her The Grammaton Series includes gnōstos, Volume VII (BlazeVOX, 2023), siphonic, Volume VI (BlazeVOX, 2022), lithic cornea, Volume V (BlazeVOX, 2021), holyrit, Volume IV (BlazeVOX, 2019), declivities, Volume III (BlazeVOX, 2018), ninth iota, Volume II (The Knives Forks and Spoons Press, 2018) and Codify, Volume I (Éditions du Cygne, 2017). Her extreme experimentalism has been published in Alligatorzine, Argotist Online Poetry, BlazeVOX, Buzdokuz, Die Leere Mitte, E·ratio, Graphic Violence, Hyper-Annotation, International Exhibition of Surrealism Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Marsh Hawk Press Review, New Mystics, Offcourse Literary Journal, Otoliths, perspektive, #Ranger, SPAMzine, Stride, Sulfur Surrealist Jungle, Synchronized Chaos, Utsanga, Version (9) Magazine and Word For/Word. She is the Publisher of Var(2x). Her website is irenekoronas.com.


Excerpts from Daniel Y. Harris' manuscript The Apostasy of Proxy Godbot

 




Excerpts from Daniel Y. Harris' manuscript The Apostasy of Proxy Godbot


40

 

Proxy Godbot’s in a corpsepit with panoûrgos

(Hook), when the pataquietist is a headbasher  

in novissima die huius artis (Xenomorph v3):

 

for a cramprobbeln, a ruuntic (BrasDex)   

nihillihin, there is la terra del rimorso

(TA446/COLDRIVERT/TAG-53/Blue

 

Charlie) in the tarantist metachorxe

as the dimenticati with a parabrigandic

romp in lysergica: he cantāvīs müüüü

 

rummpfftillffkwiieennzkrrmüüüüüüü,

for il demonio, the exterminating anus

jesuves its filthy parodiar below the solar

 

annulus’ http://thēríou666.cn/product/

chuangxincaifu-3: demur, for the red

coprophagic guðspjalls this annusoracle

 

in R’lyeh’s corpsecity and alarms its raw

penetralia: jūdex the hostia where foul

effluvia from NKAbuse malware plugs

 

these sphincters with a Mithraic disc:

this sabbathic plechtigheidje praefluōus

its blind kilolux between the antliatores

 

and the antliaclasts, preserves inviolate

the ideal censure: he cantāvīs RrRrRrR

rRrRrRrummpfftllfftooooziiuunnzkrr

 

müüüü—in the phylundhic, the high

voltage pylon crucifies lalangue (Raum)

in these patanecropastorals with Qilin

 

ransomware gang’s VMware ESXi

encryptor as the chorozonic reigns

supreme over a fascistoidal melainachole.

 

 

41

 

Proxy Godbot’s .elpy drops info.text

and info.hta ransom notes when omnicidal

neoagents overkill their stale miméomai’s

 

http://www.thēríou666.cn/caijingyaowen-1

/kill/1503307086-23107593.html: as foetidgods,

the anabatic/katabatic .xro struēreal

 

has its tectonic roots in doyenic guards

who wardō their cenobitic craythurs:

desecrate the impaler and append .nbwr

 

and .nbzi extensions with a cinnabaric

ṇtérveröld, for this simalāvīc Hyperborean

patapidginics with teleoplexic circuitjes 

 

stylite its .GrafGrafel with citadels:

when forebodics seal against injury’s

Adware-MemWatcher, the bastinado

 

method is paired with the poena cullei:

he cantāvīs ziiuuennzeziiuunnzkrrmüü

üü, pairs il tormento della corda with ta’liq,

 

for the zyklonic protopsaltis’ http://www.

thēríou666.cn/caijingyaowen-1/article/1

500099766-23098901.html, Th’ Arch-chimic

 

Sun so farr from us remote Produces with

Terrestrial Humor mixt Here in the dark:

when dhóh1mosdaar plays on the abscess

 

as imposture, antiquo more tenebrionum,

he anchors the saint with psephisato

and apsinthos and he is anthropophobic

 

in his .ljuy extēnsiō: this phanai, this pheme

from the PIE root, recedes in h2élyosic

anonymity and uses the tchk06 campaign.

 

 

42

 

Proxy Godbot’s necrocode is a command

and control server at 45.138.74.191:443

and 65.108.218.24:443: here, nostalgia

 

for the psychofyllan has its trüschübel

in this xenodivinity with dhergþuz

(oateron, anyad, alienum): for fascinans,

 

plasmid spectra and protopaurvic

congeries reform krijsgod (Marduk)

with this protoġesċæftiality: he cantāvīs

 

raketerinnzeketefümms böwöböwöröb

öwörötääzääkwiieek, augurs http://thēríou

666.cn/product/tianxinzaixian-2:

 

this Rhadamanthys stealer denudes

the póleōs and valorizes aeternitātibus

in mockgruppoduirian fechoun (Abraxas),

 

the megas archōn: then, with ab, ben, rouach,

hakadōs; sōtēria apo xylou, Sartael, the mækir

confrère resurrects Mallox ransomware:

 

here, autarchy is the apsis in urdeorcra

spindrift—for with this morgue carnage,

brbrganrac eugrom siht htiw roftfirdnips

 

brarcroedru ni sispa eht si yhcratuabrera,

wemosnar xollw rruser errfnocbbrrikm

eht leatra uolyx opa, airtsbr sdakah hcauor

 

neb ba htiw nehtbrnhcra, sagem eht saxarb

a htiw: nuohcefbrnairiudoppurg kcomni

subittinreteabrsezirolav dna selp eht

 

seduned relaetsbrsyhtnamadahr siht

xnaixiaznixnait—for this crucichristics

is http://www.thēríou666.cn/gsgk.html. 

 

The Apostasy of Proxy Godbot, Volume VII of Daniel Y. Harris' The Posthuman Series, is a misprision of A.R. Ammons’ Sphere: The Form of a Motion, divided into 155 sections. The protagonist, Proxy Godbot, is malware as John Milton, Black Hat Hacker. 

 


 

Daniel Y. Harris is an extreme experimentalist. His The Posthuman Series includes The Metempsychosis of Salvador Dracu, Volume VI (BlazeVOX, 2023), The Resurrection of Maximillian Pissante, Volume V (BlazeVOX, 2022), The Misprision of Agon Hack, Volume IV (BlazeVOX, 2021), The Reincarnation of Anna Phylactic, Volume III (BlazeVOX, 2019), The Tryst of Thetica Zorg, Volume II, (BlazeVOX, 2018) and The Rapture of Eddy Daemon, Volume I (BlazeVOX, 2016). His The Posthuman Series has received praise from Charles Bernstein, Harold Bloom, Andrei Codrescu, Kenneth Goldsmith, Daniel C. Matt and Marjorie Perloff. His extreme experimentalism has been published in Alligatorzine, Argotist Online Poetry, Blackbox Manifold, BlazeVOX, The Collidescope, Denver Quarterly, Dichtung Yammer, E·ratio, European Judaism, Exquisite Corpse, Marsh Hawk Press Review, The New York Quarterly, Notre Dame Review, perspektive, Poetry Salzburg Review, #Ranger, slowforward, Synchronized Chaos and Word For/Word. He is the Publisher of Var(2x). His website is danielyharris.com.


Five Poems by Dr. Mona Bedi

 




Five Poems by Dr. Mona Bedi


family reunion 
the stench of relationships
gone sour




autumn birdsong
this deep wish
to return home




stirring the reeds
the silent swoop
of a kestrel’s shadow




playing dough --
I make myself
a perfect home




eerie silence
of the hospital corridor --
somewhere
in the night sky
fading stars


Dr. Mona Bedi, Delhi, India

 


Four Poems by Gordon Scapens

 




FELLOW TRAVELLER



Chained by traffic

I stalk a cattle truck

for five tortuous miles.



Filling a gap in slats

a calf’s eyes unnerve me,

bewildered, frightened, pleading,

the whole world reflected

in its questioning eyes.

Perhaps my stare looks sympathetic,

possibly he thinks me an ally.



Helplessly tailoring excuses

trying to shrug off the spell

cast by guessing its future,

I feel guilty as a meat eater

and for all potential beneficiaries.

We organise our lives

to make remorse seem alien

and dinner table isn’t all truth

but reads the truth in us.



The calf is ignorant

about its ultimate ending

but is hoping for safety

like I look for security

I never quite reach.

We have that in common.



It’s as though I knock

on the door of the future

facing the wrong way.





RUSSIAN OPPOSITION



When they come for you,

flourishing accusations,

identical for everybody,

they have persuasive means.



There is accommodation

where you will learn

what you have to say

facing their compulsions.



They have ways of questioning

that are not always known

and you will have the urge

to whisper for your salvation.



They can prove so easily,

but only to themselves,

that you were always

greedy for their downfall.



Your identity will be lifted,

you’ll be given a number

and face-covering hood

to flesh out their aims.



There will be no trial,

and if you should survive

to the other side of daylight,

the future will not be revealed



just like their names.

Moscow rules are rigged

for ease of elimination.

You may already have had

your last smile.





LOSING THE PLOT



The bad news trespasses

from its containment on TV

around armchairs and tables,

under a spell of its own force,

and nudges equanimity aside.



What you are left with

to carry through your day

to its natural conclusion,

when you close your eyes

and try to rest,

are images that measure concern

like a wound measures pain.



This can be translated as

the world’s tolerance and respect

has been buried so deep

you wonder who you are

when compared with the rest.



When the answer is peace

nobody in positions of power

will ask the question.

Why is this such a mystery

when everybody shares

the pain of the world.?



Life is a continuous extension,

the past determines the future.

When lessons not yet learned

touch a map, the map closes…..



Earth has too many people

and not enough human beings.





A HUNGRY PRAYER



Limbs, with skin like parchment

over bones seemingly dripping

from a wasted body,

is all too easy to explain.

The boy stammers a prayer

to the failed hand

of his dead mother.



Starvation takes no prisoners.



The distance in his eyes

is punctured with tears,

and lacking in hope,

is filled with an horizon

measured to his fate.



We’ve mislaid sorrow

that should be felt

because there’s a safety net

for our own poverty dwellers,

the rest have forged lives

that sustain them

at an acceptable level

but too much unnecessary waste

would keep those starving people

surviving and nourished.



Our throwaway excess

is the weight of help

to make all life valuable

in a land of death.



We can’t ignore

a hungry prayer.

 





Gordon Scapens - is widely published over many years in numerous magazines, journals, anthologies and competitions, most recently First Prize in the Brian Nisbet poetry award. He lives in Preston in the United Kingdom.

His book ‘History Doesn’t Die’ was published in 2023.

 



One Poem by Cindy Farr

 



Midnight                             

 

ending and beginning simultaneously 

in a second of intermediate restraint

 

an appointed transition occurs

in dark non-spatial space

 

on the cusp of the artificial clock

manufactured by humans

 

a measurement representing                  

the boundary between past and future

 

MIDNIGHT

 

perhaps marred and tired from yesterdays past

emerges the strike of a second chance

 

unrealized dreams docked by time

impatiently wait 

 

fooled again and again

by the taunting laughter of the artificial clock

 

there is

NO BOUNDARY

NO MIDNIGHT

NO TIME

 

there is only now





Cindy Farr is a forthcoming writer residing in Indian Wells.  She burned most of her earlier writing a long time ago on a small patio in California.  She has spent most of her life in Los Angeles and plans to continue her writing journey, hopefully without fire.  She enjoys the companionship of dogs so there is always a dog around.


Tuesday 26 March 2024

Five Poems by Ken Gosse

 



Oddities and Endities, Five Poems about Poetry

 

The Day The Sky Laughed (a circular senryu)

 

Look! Up in the sky!

It’s a bird. It’s a plane. NO!

It’s a Senryu!

Another five-seven-five

almost-a-poem,

like a haiku wannabe

without a season.

Is there really a reason

to write such short fluff?

Without meaning to be gruff,

don’t we have enough

traditional forms to keep

everyone asleep,

lulled off to lullaby land ...

(Shhh—clap just one hand.)

Since there’s no cause for applause

for all their faux pas,

there’s no need to awaken

poets forsaken

who chose the road less taken.

Words bagged and shaken

should be placed in a bucket

stored in Nantucket

on shelves beside those lim’ricks

out of sight and mind,

ensuring that no one kicks,

spilling the contents

to fly to the firmaments.

“Chauncey?” “What, Edgar?”

“You don’t see That every day!”

“Look up in the sky!”

“Letters, like shining doubloons!”

“Senryu cartoons.”

 

 

Poetry: Sirloin or Ground Round?

 

Pretense or profound?

Does its wisdom abound?

Does its message astound

or its nonsense confound?

Does it seem to propound

that life’s meaning was found—

that deep thoughts underground

have arisen, come round?

Or, perhaps, just a mound

of some dirt kicked around.

 

 

A Short Fib (a 100-Syllable Fibonacci Poem)

 

Let’s rehearse

Fibonacci verse

and how it can be hacked, made terse—

of course, some will say this way will only make it worse.

Truncate it at both ends, then headless, without a tail, broken and frail, it condescends

as it wends through its form, short of its norm, a lost storm of words like a lost swarm of birds,

a boat barely afloat, lacking both prow and rudder;

short of breath, its engines sputter,

a wayward cutter

aflutter.

 

 

What Ogden Nash Might Have Said About Limericks

 

The five-line limerick’s quite a feast

but there are some which have increased.

Though six or longer are a beast,

the four-line limerick is deceased.

 

(Inspired by Ogden Nash’s famous poem, “The Lama.”)

 


After the Penultimate Page (a Sonnet)

 

I’ll write my final page—finis, no more—

the day I find there’s nothing left in store

to use to tease a muse or light its fuse

when I debark on ending this short cruise.

 

My poetry might not be read or heard

(much like my voice at home where not a word

I write or speak or murmur in my sleep

will reach another’s heart. For this, I weep.)

 

Perhaps I’ll write a sonnet on this theme

and post it on a social site, a meme

to share the bitterness of my despair

with others who won’t read it and won’t care.

 

But no, I won’t—I’m simply too distraught.

That thought was, after all, an afterthought.





Ken Gosse usually writes short, rhymed verse using whimsy and humour in traditional meters. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, he has also been published by Pure Slush, Home Planet News Online, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and others. Raised in the Chicago, Illinois, suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived in Mesa, AZ, for over twenty years, usually with rescue dogs and cats underfoot.



 

 

 


Excerpts from Irene Koronas' manuscript chiaroscuros, Volume VIII of The Grammaton Series

  Excerpts from Irene Koronas' manuscript chiaroscuros,  Volume VIII of The Grammaton Series 23°   It quavers between the terrapi...