Monday, May 13, 2019

Heath Brougher writes

To Live to Bleed for Glory
                     (for Duane Locke)

I’ve gone back to the basics.
Back to my notebooks from my teens.
That’s where the fearlessness lives.
That’s where I find the poems
that are not poisoned by the prospect
of someone prodding them, judging them, staring at them
from head to toe. This is where I find
True Poetry. Poetry that wants nothing more
than to push! Poetry that is screaming
for the bending of the envelope!
Poetry that is likely not going to ever be published
because it’s not an “imitation of poetry”
which is the wretched dreck that has swallowed
the soul of Contemporary Poetry. Professors and editors
have never been more off the mark than today.
Still, the “masa confusa” shines, in pencil
and in pen, when I look back at those teenage pages!
Others will never know of them but at least
I know they exist which is more than enough for me!

The Truth is, Academia must die for True Poetry to live.
Simple fact. Academia = jobs = the necessity for the celebration
of mediocrity = the need to “put a finger on” what poetry
is/can be = at the end of the day, money.

I know that wall is thick and made of concrete and metal.
I know that the first one through the wall is always the bloodiest.
For fucks sake, my head has been bleeding for the past four years!
I will ram my head against that wall day in and day out.
I will sacrifice myself for all those who’ve been dinging
away at that wall for their entire lives!

I will be the one with the blood and no glory
because I was never here for glory. I’ve always
been smashing at that wall
for full velocity limitless poetry
and blood is much more beautiful than glory could ever be.

I see Felino Soriano starting to fade a bit! This
TRAVESTY must NEVER happen.

How many other geniuses have fallen through the cracks of history?

Why doesn’t Heller Levinson win the Pulitzer Prize
every year he publishes a new book?

I do not think those who want to cage poetry
and keep it in nice and neat rows
have any idea how fuckin serious,
and dangerous, I Truly fuckin am!

I promise you, though, they will find out!
street art breaking the wall

1 comment:

  1. Heath is an inveterate promoter of prolific but undeservedly obscure poets. Among his favorites are Duane Locke, Felino A.Soriano, and Heller Levinson.
    University of Tampa professor of English and poet-in-residence, Locke lives estranged, he says, and as an alien, not understanding the customs, the costumes, the language, some form of postmodern English, of his surroundings. He was the leader of the Immanentists, a group of poets who practiced what he called "linguistic realism." He has had over 7,000 poems published in over 500 print magazines and is author of 34 books of poems
    Sargasso and Sponges
    Sargasso and sponges
    Stick out their tongues
    To touch my ankle.
    All the houses on the shore
    Put on tuxedoes, went
    To the wedding of the tattoo and the dollar.
    I stayed here, alone,
    With Sargasso and sponges.
    Soriano died in October of esophageal cancer at 44. He began writing poetry in 2000, had his 1st acceptance in 2001, and then stopped submitting until 2006. After learning to adapt jazz forms with philosophy he developed “a sacred practice of writing that creates an abstract comprehension of environmental happenstance.” After his epiphany he published over 5,200 poems in over 600 online and print journals and 77 print and electronic collections of poetry, and was the founding editor of “Counterexample Poetics” and “Of/with.”

    Of figuring into such excitement

    what resuscitates proclaims
    diversion from a death
    -near where walking awoke
    from the darkened forensics
    dedicated to obtain facts or
    fundamental mores into
    which notion does not
    mention failures or fade-in|out
    predicaments; the spectral
    collaboration divides as
    does an hour’s arrive/abscond
    narrative, whole in which the hand
    holds and decides, — . . .

    Levinson has published a novel and poems in over 100 journals and magazines and is the creator of Hinge Theory, a poetics that posits that words and ideas “hinge” on intrinsic associations that propel a poem forward once they are activated. “Language as a living organism is continuously interactive with other organisms breeding extensively & engendering complementarity…. It seeks to restore Language’s Original Primal Fire. To ignite the word, Hinge employs the module which is a word or a configuration of words that serves to spring (to unleash, to unmoor) the subject into a climate of free fall & unpredictability.”

    parking the dog the meter bloated apoplexy

    it was just another morning blather news oriole the statuettes demonstrative

    with intrigue & garland who

    would have put the shot the move that got the

    canisters trippy tremulous too you grooved you got you craved you saved

    a crust a gust a cuss

    holidays are spent in assay reimbursement dont you say a way pay play toda(y?) say

    i do i do i do i’ll say plse screw plse screw plse screw renew renew

    you say i do i do i renew i do

    the ticket discarded as a malfunction
    the necessity for overload
    is abbreviation abortive
    constituencies threaten to cavil
    the landlocked suffer lockdown
    the challenges for formalism are
    all inclusive


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