2 things to show

having come across some things, they were detailed for the record ::



A great cover, apparently a physical real image, for an irreal web-zine _here_ ::


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Jack Spicer's (reasonably) collected poems 'My Vocabulary Did This To Me'was released and there were many reviews:

the nation :: not un-insightful overview

boston review :: includes this quote from a letter sent to Robert Duncan: “I still think I was right and poets don’t really need a middleman and a middleman fucks up poetry, but the number of things that are right and not possible is as infinite as God’s mercy.”

the phoenix :: "after reading [spicer], you may feel that much American poetry is fake, the quality of its emotions bland as baby food."

voices carry :: a pretty good dawn-like conscious of the thing: "Spicer wanted to make poetry a 'collage of the real'"

the choice cynicism :: short but brings into question cynicism, as it may or may not apply

another jack spicer :: a Jack Spicer from world war 2 : "In common with many families from those times, nothing much was ever passed down regarding Jack Spicer. When he married Liz Trott they saw the usual hard times in the slum areas of Brighton before being allocated a house at North Moulsecoomb. It made little difference to their financial state except that it was obviously more comfortable when compared with the past."

a request for analysis of thing language :: as yet unmet . . .

LA times :: "Over the years, his use of em dashes reminiscent of Dickinson transforms into brisk line breaks that splinter words into sharp syllables. Indented asides, responding to repeated phrases, shift into dadaist dialogues with the silent-film icon Buster Keaton and domesticated birds, as well as into sardonic letters to the dead." -- all these reviews are interesting. They take a certain strand up in each case, none are finding a heart but the outline, if only of some organs, are certainly being described in the process.

Open Letters, January :: certainly the best of all the articles available, nothing to say but to go read it.


The question of why Spicer seems to have found his time to emerge before all the newspapers will probably never be answered. Certainly his work seems to be fully aware of this now we are reading it in.

This re-occurence is similar to that of H.P Lovecrafts around the 2000 year. I wonder what the next re-occurence will be