John M. Bennett

wetness

il y a des fleuves que j’ai tourné
et retourné cinq ou six nuits dans
ma tête )M. Boinvilliers( streaked
out my pants a leg égale ,a bank’s
shiny weeds el desayuno que ya
echará espuma is yr dental
superstructure ,lunch and fog
)fog ahead behind( a he ad be
hind er gone the window cr
acking shut SPELT A RINGING
PHONE is was the crown yr shoe a
wave ≈ toward uh ba ckw ash≈ “my
arms held you” mud sweeps across
your sidewalk )more than six the
nights not yet ends( a can of beans
glinting on the windowsill ll ll ll ll ll

 

La rivière que j’ai sous la langue,
L’eau qu’on n’imagine pas…
– Paul Éluard

 

 

HICUCU HACKS

shlort flogic
if spider
langkuage by

alien hhunt
voice ungrown
ttent or hhead

liberat
or breeathing
genectic

words latdder
angngular
roots exsist

sentience coat
es shaking
absince’ dis

tant reason
pro cess trees’
slecond tlongue

 

After Jim Leftwich’s
Hicucu from Code of Signals

 

 

flint

run and dry wheel and
dopamine yr flulsome
smoking wear a sweating
wall the rope walks .in
side a bowl ,what talks
yr primo mess age it’s a
tube of asshole glue a
window open .age of
phones hoja invertida
imbolígrafo masticado
como nunca como gun
and sky a real tune
deflowers in your hissing
ear sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
was dug the scrapers up

…ashen floor…

 

miccailhuitl

in my foldered knee a nail a
coin or dripping gland it’s obtuse
wind a shirt collapsant wall turns
round sin puerta sin piedra sans
pied ou masque funny where you
cr ashed this morning’s corpse
talked tomorrow in its soldered
jaw a book of names monday’s
folded coupons whistle damply
in yr frontal pocket where a
birth shits proudly TUS NOM
BRES PESADOS on the side
walk’s scattered river

 

…drowned in inky rebirth…
– Ivan Argüelles

 

 

la peluda

the fat rice’s windless air a
cabezón reloqued misted locus
ni logos ssaid a drifting wig
indetaminated writ yr ashbrown
hair .occulus ,maddertown
,the rate of acquisition devisted
what… a tube ,your oscul
ation where’s bloody chain
regressed the laptop spits
out its mask .rain cloaks
a dumpster where a burnt
head smoulders ni loco era
ni lodo mas went and
pissed behind the trash
compactor la antiplaza de la
Constitución…opiácea )M. S.
Papasquiaro( y casi veo eo eo
lo nadaiante(

 

…te hablo
por tus seis dialectos enteros.
– César Vallejo

 

 

BIO

John M. Bennett has published over 400 books and chapbooks of poetry and other materials. He has published, exhibited and performed his word art worldwide in thousands of publications and venues. He was editor and publisher of LOST AND FOUND TIMES (1975-2005), and is Founding Curator of the Avant Writing Collection at The Ohio State University Libraries. Richard Kostelanetz has called him “the seminal American poet of my generation”. His work, publications, and papers are collected in several major institutions, including Washington University (St. Louis), SUNY Buffalo, The Ohio State University, The Museum of Modern Art, and other major libraries. His PhD (UCLA 1970) is in Latin American Literature. His latest books are Select Poems, Poetry Hotel Press/Luna Bisonte Prods, 2016; The World of Burning, Luna Bisonte Prods, 2017; Poemas visuales, con movimientos con ruidos con combinaciones (with Osvaldo Cibils), Deep White Sound, 2017; The Sweating Lake, Luna Bisonte Prods, 2017; and Olas Cursis, Luna Bisonte Prods, 2018.

 

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