American Poetry Now is a sweeping anthology that will delight poetry fans, students, teachers, and general readers alike. If you are a student who has a disability that prevents you from using this book in printed form, BiblioVault may be able to supply you with an electronic file for alternative access. Please have the disability coordinator at your school fill out this form. Google Play Kobo OverDrive. Add to Basket. Condition: Near Fine. First edition.
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The hierarchical setup of Empire was a human-based engine engaged in advancing technology. Or the dadaists gasped for them. Only hermits and luddites rang the alarms, and they probably gasped too when they were pulverized. The Dada! Revolution for a minute in the s. Peter: How can you envisage the thrust of Dada regaining momentum today through the use of technology? And soon enough by something very much like flesh. There is a game on in science to locate consciousness, which is deadly serious given that we are experiencing two seemingly competing technologies simultaneously: one of them is the tech of evaporation of humans and eradication of life on earth, while the other is the rapidly advancing communication tech that links every brain on earth to the hive mind.
And then we gasp! I mean, if consciousness is matter working to know itself, does it want to keep knowing or does it want to self-annihilate? Locating consciousness is the first step. Finding out what it wants is another. Does it want to go on or to blow up? If it wants to go on, we have to invent a new technology math and physics to grow it big enough to make the competing war tech obsolete.
Both you and I and our fellow artists come up mostly on the side of going on — you because optimism is the American religion, and I because I was brainwashed by the communists before I could dream like Baudelaire. Peter: And of course Dada erupted from the trenches of The Great War —where 40, corpses sometimes piled up daily. Peter: What is the difference of 40, corpses then and 40, corpses buried in smart phones today? Just be sure you leave the password with someone alive.
Peter:And finally— If you really want to upset the balance —Conformity is the new rebellion.
Like stacking one side of the deck IS Rebellion. All I know is that if somebody hits you hard with a revelation or an explosive, you gasp. I like writing in airport lounges with two hours to spare before an overseas flight. This is the last pleasure left after airports became expensive holding cells in hell. I remember when you could run right up to the door of your airplane and they would reopen them for you if you were late.
Bring Now the Angels. Poems. By Dilruba Ahmed Since its inception in , the Pitt Poetry Series has been a vehicle for America's finest contemporary poets. Now, Now (Pitt Poetry Series) [Jennifer Maier] on trogretakobers.cf *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. In Now, Now, Jennifer Maier's second poetry collection.
And as per Casablanca, you could part from your amor during a war. I also remember from the movies when couples parked by the airport to watch planes take off. That was entertainment in days past.
I'm having these puffs of nostalgia in the lounge of British air between security warnings and threats to my luggage which, if left unattended, might sprout wings and leaves. To be sure, the Surveillance apparatus already knows that nothing in my luggage grows. Do they know what grows in my head?
I saw Minority Report and I think it possible that people having bad thoughts are tagged already. But there is no way anyone can read your thoughts if you're writing poetry. For one thing, there is no poetry in your head before you write it.
At least, there isn't in mine. I'm from the school of "If you want to know something, ask yourself and there it is: the answer.
You may have already requested this item. See a sample of what you're missing. For one thing, there is no poetry in your head before you write it. Manipulating; 5. The gasp of Dada, the breath of surprise, is the cry uttered by a human hit by a revelation. And the next. Di-ay rated it liked it Apr 05,
The fake answer is actually "fake news. Google will maybe come up with names and bios of poets and their poems, but it will never answer a real poetry question, like the one poet Ted Berrigan was fond of stating as a fact, though it was a question: "I can't wait to hear what I'm going to say next. As I write it I know what it is. Of course, if I have to formulate a question afterwards, I lose interest. Google is incapable of googling itself, that is to say: google cannot produce a question from an answer that even I don't yet know.
Poetry resides only in the Ungooglable. They are about to call my flight, so I'm pasting here two of my recent ungooglables:. Dogs of Aphora An ounce of premounting is worth a pound of surmounting and a ton of dismounting. We articulate when we daydream: contra naturam Even in the deepest boredom the darkest melancholy the hopeless depression someone with a lighter and a knife is preparing to make you forget Only curiosity makes things better: things hold your gaze if you look The last day arrived after my first coffee.
Playlist will be published this spring by the University of Pittsburgh Press.
But once I began, I could not put it down. Really, it's splendid. Apt and tender and candid. He is also the general editor of the annual The Best American Poetry , which he initiated in Cover art: Henri Matisse. Introducing The Tropical Roundup, in which I, at random times, post points of interest that may be thematically or geographically linked. When asked to comment on how police officers might discern suspects without profiling, Governor Brewer told the New York Times "we simply have to trust in our law enforcement.
It is the unambiguous use of language, in the form of poetry, to counter the obfuscated legal language of war, death, and exile. The poets in this reading do precisely that, day in and day out.
Here's a sampling of who will sign what at this year's bookfair. Add it to the comments box. A23, Saturday, Feb. H29, Friday, Feb.
E10, Saturday, Feb. Booth , Hall C,Thursday, Feb. All from Rose Metal Press. Carol Guess, Tinderbox Lawn. SPRING My feelings just took a turn for the better, While thinking of white flowers turning into strawberries, Of clover turning into bees, of crowds of wisteria Swelling and swelling. People often think I have a friendly dog but it is just me: My wide arm-span for folding tablecloths, my feet that seem worn Not just by me, but many. I had this feeling once before, when I was walking through rain And wet leaves in shoes that were red and navy.