Speaking of which, Tepco said off-the-charts atmospheric readings as high as 530 sieverts an hour had been recorded inside the containment vessel of reactor 2. A single dose of one sievert is enough to make you sick; 5 sieverts would kill half those exposed within a month, and 10 would prove fatal to all within weeks. A remote-controlled robot that Tepco intends to send into the reactor’s containment vessel to get close up and personal is designed to withstand exposure to a total of 1,000 sieverts, meaning it will survive for less than two hours before malfunctioning. So of course US regulators killed a rigorous examination of cancer in millions of Americans living near nuclear plants because they already knew they didn’t cause cancer, who needs science, right?, and it would have cost $8M, which is what, Tom Brady’s salary for 3 games or something? Anyway, I want to share a bit of Ian Heames’ Face Press fundraiser for the Raworth family:
A river has turned red.
People are being warned to stay away.
Nearby there is a metal plant. A giant
Metals factory upstream.
In winter the snow is also red ...
In the psycho-analytical theory of the mind, then, we take it for granted that the course of mental processes is automatically regulated by ‘the pleasure-principle’: that is to say, we believe that any given process originates in an unpleasant state of tension and thereupon determines for itself such a path that its ultimate issue coincides with a relaxation of this tension, eye eee with avoidance of ‘pain’ or with production of pleasure. When we consider the psychic processes under observation in reference to such a sequence we are introducing into our work the economic point of view. In our opinion a presentation which seeks to estimate, not only the topographical and dynamic, but also the economic element is the most complete that we can at present imagine, and deserves to be distinguished by the term meta-psychological. Right? A few paragraphs further on I read: however, it must be affirmed that it is not strictly correct to speak of a supremacy of the pleasure-principle over the course of psychic processes. If such existed, then the vast majority of our psychic processes would necessarily be accompanied by pleasure or would conduce to it, while the most ordinary experience emphatically contradicts any such conclusion. One can only say that a strong tendency towards the pleasure-principle exists in the psyche, to which, however, certain other forces or conditions are opposed, so that the ultimate issue cannot always be in accordance with the pleasure-tendency. Let’s historicize this. Whose pleasure are we talking about here? Yours? Mine? Or the pleasure of the class that declared victory in when was it? 1517? 1689? 1796? 1848? 2016?
Metals factory ...
And if I cannot pretend to be you, well, I’ll tell you about your walls / the interpretation of the cracks, etc / you probably don’t wanna know. Give me the paper / its fine I’ll never remember a thing. Still, there are four cardinal points. The first is the sky, it is where they have buried us. The second, the earth. There they question us. It is very silent. The other two points ...
Banks give birth to ‘robbers’.
Products to the ‘need’.
As for the blank pages alternating with poems in The Month of Frozen Grapes, Gogou say ‘one may draw, write something of their own’ there, so please:
in the 90-second spot for the construction-materials company, a Latino mother and daughter who are apparently crossing across the Mexico-US border rise in the dark, walk along a barbed-wire fence, clamber aboard the boxcar of a moving train and wade across a river. In the full-length, six-minute version, which the company said was rejected by Fox for being too political, the mother and daughter are despondent when they encounter an enormous wall in the desert. Then the little girl presents the mom with a crude American flag she has assembled from scraps of plastic bags, and the pair discover a gigantic set of doors in the wall. They proceed to stroll right through. The guy who made the ad all but admitted the purpose of the ad was to draw the undocumented to work [undoubtedly at extremely low wages] for the company. Michael Brunner, the CEO of Brunnerworks, the agency that created the spot, said its purpose was threefold: To generate awareness of the company, create pride in its workforce and fill jobs. “We’ve got over 400 positions that we’re looking to fill at all levels, at all capacities,” Brunner told KDKA. So Chris had another seizure last night. It wasn’t too bad but he’s sore today and has two black eyes. He ran out of CBD oil, which is a definite argh, since it works so well for him. They’re in Virginia now. After Tina’s job interview they’re going apartment hunting. “Wish us luck!” he says. I wish them luck. Their life has been really hard since his wreck and, as he calls it, his traumatic brain injury. To quote Leos Carax, “Although I don’t make films for anybody, I do make films, therefore I do make them for someone: I make them for the dead. But then I show them to living people, who I start to think about while I’m editing — who are they? So I start to get more reflexive at the editing table. Why did I imagine this science-fiction world? I don’t have any real answers. But OK. The first one [I imagined] was actually not Merde. It was the older woman, because I pass these women in Paris every day. That was an issue when I made ‘Lovers on the Bridge’ because I was young and I didn’t know anybody in Paris. These old women were cross-eyed and were wandering down the street. Now, when I pass these women, I feel so amazed that they’re still alive, and there are a few of them. They all dress the same and look the same. Some of them are really sick. It’s impossible to think that anyone could be more foreign than these women living in this city, and that’s all that’s left of their lives. I thought at first maybe I’ll do a documentary on them and how could I relate to them. But then I realized I would never make this documentary because I would never be able to finish it. Instead, I made it a complete fiction. I made her played by Denis, and I put my words into her mouth. That’s how it started, and the rich banker came after that.” But you know what they say, sucking spear transit splash oops bore eye fro eye hire harrow guarded leer trap fire slurry badge adage craze speak speak speak engineer linger rotund dusty ust ust uh hoe oat toe below spire rain stamen stick rat earth reeves heavy oh mow spot smear spot squashed out hear a-rear basting let low loaned honey nothing doing behind gravy train evil fell to slow entrance gained a billow in the random rain never never adumbrate never fever scumbling punchable larynx snot god sported inside mountain yawn swerve gliding dust to dust hard shadow phase hammy maverick nut there scratching crevice hording hot snow ocean bosses suds scribble which ways blacking chancy chaos gouge loony brighter than tune may may may may may may max may max may max ayax razor ruby bird seared near her area reached piper ripping rail light lit little tick flea migrant sip wit twill twill low will piano frill palo o laughing harrow barracuda amour our radio crash not on my time happy not on my time mad not on my time money not on my time skin not on my time merry not on my time dig not on my time fanny not on my time sorrow not on my time sand not on my time sun not on my time moon not on my time hills not on my time rivers not on my time rinse not on my time cloud not on my time vapor not on my time word not on my time shame not on my time hover not on my time blow not on my time sassy not on my time slow not on my time honey not on my time more defeat effete defeat effort defeat fort defeat eat eat de teat at art faart or fete tete ear eat fete tete do to oat to o deaf effort fort ore eee or taa tort or at eat taa tat or de de ten effete neat tete defeat lulu lang loop bay bay bay rad hip hole cleave o decalogue boober hover mine hammer am bubble slumber pressure song cover over every wrong abridge my sigh with over wing oh swim again beyond thy hand points are reached at every point slimmed mirror prunes mere mourning rave. An orgasm is an elegy. I can’t explain this rationally. It’s site-specific emotion lodged in a small barking noise — so who do you like better, Tsong-kha-pa, Artemisia Gentileschi, or CLR James?
Image: Test-crash from “California Freeways: Planning for Progress,” courtesy Prelinger Library. Are these corpses? The article then provides the metadata for the photograph.
lines of parallel panels painted gray and peeling.
eight lines of parallel panels in the frame painted gray and peeling.
orange X spraypainted on eight lines of parallel panels in the frame,
so bright against paint gray and peeling.
The house bears traces left by its inhabitants, the tropical storm, by subsequent evacuation, and then by the state. The previous sentence, for example, is found in a virtual volume entitled mgklvoe.umk,hgzfsvmean, (p. 220). That book has a specific location within the library, denominated first by Hexagon, then by Wall, Shelf, and Volume. To provide the classmark for this book would comprise the whole length of this essay, but, for practicality’s sake, Library of Babel provides a tool for bookmarking pages. The sentence above can be found at the address within this loop. Then Mohsen Emadi read from his first book in English translation, Standing on Earth (Phoneme Media, translated by Lyn Coffin): David Shook, Phoneme’s founding editor opened with a kind of epigraph, a stanza from Langston Hughes’ “Let America Be America Again,” throwing Trump’s “Make America Great Again” slogan some poetic shade. Emadi, who has been in exile from Iran for eight years and now lives in Mexico, gave the reading his own preface. “Resistance is the only thing we have,” he says. “It’s not a question of hope ... Hope sometimes doesn’t work. Our daily life gets to have meaning from our resistance.” Then Thomas Lux died. As for me, I was ramfeezled after a hard night at the corpse-polishing plant. I had one fear left, of becoming too dexterous in stripping the last few shoelaces of meat.
People laugh, all over the world, people laugh.
We were born to laugh, and we know how to be sad ...
Then the reason for my failure became clear: I didn’t know enough about the encounters between Indians and Filipinos in Sonoma County. So anyhow there’s a brick, and right next to it ... a deflated brick. In this sense, and this sense alone, lest it become an infinite thing, it would have to become infinite. The only way to write a truly finite book would be to extend it infinitely ... like the Library of Babel ... please see Luke McMullan, Library of Babel, at http://dl.gauss-pdf.com/GPDF230-LM-LOB.pdf Gauss PDF, which links to Jonathan Basile’s Library of Babel project, at https://libraryofbabel.info/ ... It puts a question: once the matheme e < > d has been noted, is extinction deprived of any transcendental sense? Folly for to need to seem to glimpse afaint afar away over there so far away, even when it is getting closer and closer, and yet that is only so far, afar, for the logic of the far, of the astrobiologists in the Afar region in Ethiopia. In the Danakil Depression, which is where they are, one sees yellow holophile spumes guarded by local soldiers in camo, the soldiers recalling the recent calls from Frederic Jameson for a universal draft. Yellow is the key colour here. It is the colour of 2017 insofar as it is the colour of La La Land and the colour of Chief Keef’s Two Zero One Seven. And here is Colette Soler on lalanguage in Lacan: Why write it as one word? The references are numerous, and Lacan explained it in this way: it is because of its homophony with ‘lallation’. ‘Lallation’ comes from the Latin lallare, which the dictionaries say designates the act of singing ‘la, la’ — which is to say, ‘l’on l’a, l’on l’a de l’air, l’on l’aire, de l’on l’a’. The previous sentence, for example, is found in a virtual volume entitled mglkvoe.umplkmp,hzgfsvmaen, (p. 220). In this case these conditions come in the form of holophile spumes, there where halo- resonates with halo, which comes from Greek or something. Or Tagalog. Where it means “mixed together.” Halo-halo is a popular Filipino dessert made with shaved ice and evaporated milk to which are added various ingredients, including boiled sweet beans, coconut, sago, gulaman, tubers and fruits. It is served in a tall glass or bowl. This means that when one speaks of a sung or halophile language one speaks of much much more than the rainbow, the crown, the Christ, and the extremophile domain (Archaea). But of course I try to follow Tenzin Gyatso and his choice of forebears wherever I can. He’s just so funny! Once in a grand training hall (the San Jose State University basketball gym), he was lecturing in Tibetan with a translator, and he interrupted himself as he was going thru an elaboration of the twelves kinds of something or other, and said in English, “I forget the rest.” Titles include “briefcase full o’ $$$,” “firing gun at nothing while screaming,” “bomb countdown,” “lone witness’ incomprehensible last words,” “hanging from cliff // stepping on fingertips,” “human shield,” and “torch the place & watch it burn.” However, the manuscript ultimately looks beyond individual biblical narratives to illustrate their commonalities and even interchangeabilities, locating echoes of echoes in Torahdic plagues, exiles, burnt offerings, overheard bar chatter, hallucinogenic rants, alien abduction documentaries, government documents, and YouTube’s automatic captioning tech. Each poem focuses on a different philosophical thought experiment, from Plato’s allegory of the cave to Nagel’s spider in a urinal. So what is it like to be a bat? I mean, “If a girl, a virus, a horned animal, milkweed, an exchange of cash for dirty looks, the near-rhyme of greed to death, the names of all brutes, and a shroud in which was wrapped the erect ascendant all met in an ovum and, lodged deep in the earth’s core, fused into a supernova. If, from that long-ago time until this very moment — perhaps even into the future — that supernova were listening in on us, her grave canal located such that she were overexposed to US American politicovangelizing. If all at once it began to speak: whoa that’d be a trip and a half, alright.”
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars ...
Seagulls calling from the jetty speak the same language as Aeschylus
Palm trees hovering
6am and the sand colder than the water
Sun just up and 2-3ft waves like glass ...
So yes, both Either/Or and Papa Bach’s were especially great because you could find small press publications there. Also, Papa Bach’s is where I met a lawyer who helped me prepare to beat the draft: a doctor’s letter, bee sting allergies, etc. I didn’t use it. But did I know it was just my good fortune (there but for the grace of god, etc) to be able to listen, in 1982, to Pop-o-Pies, and their “Fascists Eat Donuts”? Who knows what I knew? Anyway, last Saturday, shortly after Trump announced a ban on citizens from seven majority Muslim countries and the suspension of the entire US refugee program, this started circulating:
No one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
You only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
Your neighbours running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
The boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
You only leave home
when home won’t let you stay
It wasn’t the first time Warsan Shire’s “Home” had gone viral. Two years ago, when the Syrian refugee crisis started exploding on Europe’s shores, thousands had already turned to it. Later the same day, I opened Instagram and, gloriously, gloriously, there was Beyoncé, announcing her pregnancy. Such is the year we are living in that, at this point, she might as well be carrying the two Skywalkers. A day later, she posted the entire photoshoot on her website, interspersed with Shire’s poem I Have Three Hearts. So now I’m suddenly 3 lbs. heavier all in my ass // “swallowed by hippo / 3 bodies found on farm / 105-year-old bacon woman / gold medalist dead //” “pelvic mesh recall // Christian Mingle // dot dot dot.” To endure, Szymaszek seems to say, is also to care. Journal of Ugly Sites & Other Journals might be written in the persistently passing present, but it is that future which Szymaszek says she has “no fantasies about,” and which is yet at the heart of her project—a view of the future because of the past — as when she writes, “redirecting fear into concern for the demise of the honey bee having read that humans can only survive 4 yrs. without them.” But this is “the stage”. Look at the name on the .rar. Today communication “creates one’s” ... what? I will fight against rationality and any pretensions to it. There are no questions of being, unless it’s the single pure condition. (Account must be taken of the depth of the pure feed. For the most part I take and retain only what I can glean from its most superficial layers.) For example, when dropping the word Stimmung into a hyphenated clause of a close reading of a marginal text or a “cultured” (eee gee read Twitter) re-reading / mis-reading of a crucial moment in uh what? it is as if one were still running towards one’s salvation, or perdition: one revisits, in the shadows, a precious terror. Thank God, it’s only Purgatory. What? A parenthesis. And just as the length of the spark increases to the extent it does when traversing rarefied gases, “When we were installing, people kept saying, ‘Is this too much?’ And I was like, it’s all too much. That’s what we’re doing here, right? Tying loose strings to other loose strings.” So which would you rather be reincarnated as? Reindeer food or airport luggage? Notes of licorice tinkle down in sun, muffled in swathes or a swept lip. Sheathed in PLAYDO. As dust. And the astro-temporal redux. Redux? Reflux? Nonetheless, what is available demonstrates — though not by consistent means or to consistent ends — a broadside of negotiating terms of emphasis that might include: modulation between forensic scrutiny within object-worlds of implicitly private witness and pitched urgencies of direct personal address, management of sympathetic resonances across successive imagistic / propositional frames, peristalsis and chicanery of swiftly implied and rescinded contexts. Yet these are not terms exhausted in (exophonic or endophonic) performance, however persuasively affective-expressive patterning might seem when it nominates itself as gestural architect of relative propositional values on such occasions. It is gratifyingly difficult therefore to summarise the handling of these resources as a range of tactics on the author’s part. Given all the zero children who have been eaten by bears, this is not to say, with Betsy DeVos, “I would imagine that there is probably [already] a gun in the school to protect from potential grizzlies.” Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain thought-full, till the absurd silence lapse its self into a scream, trying hopelessly to be little but a salty cry ... This seems like a defensive gesture but in fact it’s unstoppably dialogic. But quoting from that inimitable book makes little sense if you haven’t read it, and perhaps still less if you have. That’s when Tom says, I got a great postcard from Derrida one day. He put it on a bookcover shortly after. It shows Socrates taking dictation from Plato. Hee haw! So I say, Wait a minute. Derrida sent you a post card? I am tempted to take that as an “alternative fact” but you wouldn’t make that up ... would you? So Tom says, Yes, Happy Jack sent me that postcard; it’s in a box in a drawer in my desk somewhere. We corresponded briefly after meeting face-to-face at UCSD back when he was still learning English. And there was that time at that lecture at UCI on Nietzsche’s umbrella, which he delivered hands behind his back, wagging a cigar, just like Groucho ... 68.21 inches since July 1 and still falling ... Oh, and did you know that he was Chief Shadow Puppeteer of the Military Affairs Committee of the Faceplant International from 07 thru 09? The substrate of the inscription must be the chaos emerald itself, which at world-scale turns out to be a hook-tooth, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, this is no arrondissement of flatulated scree. The ‘inroads’ are in situ and in vivo,
in the air
in a kind of cartoon
in an urban sea underwater battle group
small and fast
and lit with colours
So yes, family walks at Stonypath followed a settled route. Dad would say, let’s go a walk to see the vale, and off we went. I hadn’t a clue what the vale was. We followed a sheep-trod close to a narrow, nameless burn with water-grasses floating in arrows across its surface. As we approached dad would give one of his wee smiles and, dipping his wellie-boot, say, you can never step in the same burn twice. Grown-up I learnt that this phrase came from Heraclitus.
‘Under the Earth I go’
and the sky sloths at night asking me
silently to hear the beautiful
In other words, operative here is the dehiscence of the body through the violence of an explosive centripetality that disseminates flesh, which is transmuted thru that violence into an unspecified number of biological substances that are compelled geobiomorphologically to assume the topographical contours of trees and rocks and stuff; you know, the “debris field.” In other words, via her screen, Sparkle could see a bunch of hot spots all over the ground, which had once been body parts. Now they were just goo. If trans-substantiation has its conceptual equivalents in ancient alchemy and the upgrade, then, we could, instead, make a loop of our cosmos, but not a temporal loop. So yes, it is the case
THAT ALL DENIZENS CAN SMELL THE DRIPPING
SNOW OF PALM TREES WHEN THEY ARE TOO HOT AND WISH
TO BE COLD, OR WHEN THEY ARE TOO COLD AND WISH TO
BE HOT, it is the case that
INSIDE A DIAMOND SHAPED SHELTER,
AN IBIS NOW INSERTS ITS LONG
CURVED BEAK DEEP DEEP DOWN.
THE WHITE BOY SWIGS AGAIN HIS SPUN BISMUTH
AND WANDERS OUT SAYS TO THE IBIS
“IBIS, YOUR SPECIES SURVIVES ONLY BECAUSE THE TURKS
FOUND YOU GODLY, YOUR BEAK AND STEMS AND BABIES.
YOU SAW THAT THE SPINNING CAUSED A STROBE.”
“The Jerry Maguire Video Store” at iam8bit gallery was one such project. For just over two weeks, the walls and shelves of the makeshift store were lined with 14,000 VHS tapes of the hit 90s Hollywood film Jerry Maguire, donated by people over an eight-year period. Now the collective behind the installation, Everything Is Terrible!, wants to do something even more more more: raise $400,000 to build a pyramid in the desert to house of all those copies. Which is kind of cool when you think how a pyramid in the desert could theoretically be the last thing standing when the aliens come to claim this charred, circular, floating mass we once called Earth.
[Note: Sources: JBR; Justin McCurry, “Fukushima nuclear reactor radiation at highest level since 2011 meltdown”, at The Guardian, 3 Feb 017; Teri Sforza, “Nuclear officials killed study on whether reactors posed cancer risk to nearby residents”, at Los Angeles Daily News, 4 Feb 017; JBR; Ian Heames, “A River Has Turned Red”; Sigmund Freud, “Beyond the Pleasure Principle” (tr. C. J. M. Hubback), at Bartleby; JBR; Sigmund Freud, “Beyond the Pleasure Principle” (tr. C. J. M. Hubback), at Bartleby; JBR; Sean Bonney, “Poems after Katerina Gogou”, at Abandoned Buildings, 24 Sept 015; Katerina Gogou, and Demetra Demetriou, in Demetriou’s “‘I Defend Anarchism.’ Deconstructing Authority or Mythicizing Terrorism in Greece’s Metapolitefsi: The Poetry of Katerina Gogou”, at Academia.edu; JBR; Kyle Smith, “What was 84 Lumber thinking with its Super Bowl ad?”, at New York Post, 6 Feb 017 (I had to change lots of wording, of course, since the Post is owned by <retching sounds> the Murdochs); Chris Layne, “Virginia”, at Change.org; JBR; Leos Carax, quoted in Dennis Cooper, “Léos Carax Day (Restored)”, at DC’s, 6 Feb 017; JBR; Carla Harryman, “Orgasms (from Adorno’s Noise)”, at Carla Harryman; JBR; Anne Gorrick, front cover of The Olfactions: Poems on Perfume; caption to image embedded in Geoff Manaugh, “Representing Utopia, or Advertisements of a World to Come”, at BLDGBLOG, 6 Feb 017; Kimberly Alido, and Cheena Marie Lo, quoted in Alido’s “A Series of Un/Natural/Disasters By Cheena Marie Lo”, at The Halo-Halo Review 4; Luke McMullan, Library of Babel, at Gauss PDF; JBR; Harriet Staff, and Agatha French, quoted in “LA Times Reports From the Last Stateside Reading of Exiled Iranian Poet Mohsen Emadi”, at Harriet, 6 Feb 017; JBR; Thomas Lux (RIP), “Pedestrian”, at Poetry Foundation; Thomas Lux, “Ode to the Unbroken World, Which Is Coming”, at Poets.org; JBR; Leny Strobel, “Watermelon Nights by Greg Sarris”, at The Halo-Halo Review 4; JBR, re a photo Eileen Tabios sent me, of Janna Añonuevo Langholz, “Soft Bricks (2013)”; Jonty Tiplady, “Note on Danakil Yellows”; JBR, Jonty Tiplady, “Note on Danakil Yellows”; Luke McMullan, Library of Babel, at Gauss PDF; Jonty Tiplady, “Note on Danakil Yellows”; JBR; “Halo-halo”, at Wikipedia; Jonty Tiplady, “Note on Danakil Yellows”; JBR; Tom Marshall, email rec’d 7 Feb 017, approx. 1:55pm PST; Dylan Krieger, “Book Projects”, at Dylan Krieger; JBR; Danielle Pafunda, quoted in Dylan Krieger, “Book Projects”, at Dylan Krieger; JBR; Bernie Wayne and Lee Morris, “Blue Velvet” (for Eileen); Kevin Opstedal, quoted in Mike Sonksen, “Pacific Standard Time: The Surf Noir Poetics of Kevin Opstedal”, at Entropy, 7 Feb 017; JBR; Kevin Opstedal, quoted in Mike Sonksen, “Pacific Standard Time: The Surf Noir Poetics of Kevin Opstedal”, at Entropy, 7 Feb 017; JBR; Marta Bausells, “Warsan Shire and Beyoncé: Superheroes for Our Time”, at Literary Hub, 6 Feb 017; JBR; Stacy Szymaszek, and Chris Campanioni, quoted in Campanioni’s “The Poet As Caretaker (having said too much having not gotten it all down)”, at The Brooklyn Rail, 1 Feb 017 (a review of Szymaszek’s Journal of Ugly Sites & Other Journals); Eric Schmid, “[This is ‘the stage’]”, at What Pipeline; Alivia Zivich, quoted in Sarah Rose Sharp, “When an Exhibition Leaves You Feeling Like an Idiot”, at Hyperallergic, 7 Feb 017; JBR; Anne Gorrick, “Night Repeated Daily By a Teacher of Italian Intervals”, in The Olfactions: Poems on Perfume; Francesca Lisette, “From A HISTORY OF AUTONOMY & ANGER”, “Three Strikes”, in Cambridge Reading Series: Stephen Rodefer & Francesca Lisette / Friday, 12 February 2010 / Judith E. Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; JBR; Mike Wallace-Hadrill, “On Francesca Lisette”, in Cambridge Reading Series: Stephen Rodefer & Francesca Lisette / Friday, 12 February 2010 / Judith E. Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; JBR; Stephen Rodefer, “Lot’s Wife’s Razor”, in Cambridge Reading Series: Stephen Rodefer & Francesca Lisette / Friday, 12 February 2010 / Judith E. Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; Ian Heames, “On Stephen Rodefer”, in Cambridge Reading Series: Stephen Rodefer & Francesca Lisette / Friday, 12 February 2010 / Judith E. Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; Tom Marshall and JBR, email correspondence, 7-8 Feb 017; JBR; “Jefferson Toal”, in Jefferson Toal / Peter Manson /Friday 5 March 2010 / Judith E. Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; Justin Katko and Mike Wallace-Hadrill, “On Jefferson Toal”, in Jefferson Toal / Peter Manson /Friday 5 March 2010 / Judith E. Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; Peter Manson, “The Elfin Knight”, in Jefferson Toal / Peter Manson /Friday 5 March 2010 / Judith E. Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; Ryan Dobran, “On Peter Manson”, in Jefferson Toal / Peter Manson /Friday 5 March 2010 / Judith E. Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; Jonty Tiplady and Ian Heames, To Form; JBR; Alec Finlay, “‘poetry is still beautiful’”, at Alec Finlay, 4 Dec 016; Jonty Tiplady and Ian Heames, To Form; Derek Henderson, THUS &: An erasure of Ted Berrigan’s The Sonnets, at if p then q; Joe Pugliese, and Kevin Maurer, quoted in Derek Gregory, “Meatspace?”, at Geographical Imaginations, 8 Feb 017; Nour Mobarak “1. PREFACE”, in Nour Mobarek / Trevor Joyce/ Friday 2 April 2010 / Judith E Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; JBR; Nour Mobarak, “2. TEXT”, in Nour Mobarek / Trevor Joyce / Friday 2 April 2010 / Judith E Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; JBR; Nour Mobarak “2. TEXT”, in Nour Mobarek / Trevor Joyce/ Friday 2 April 2010 / Judith E Wilson Drama Studio / Faculty of English / University of Cambridge, at Cambridge Reading Series; Alicia Eler, “Show Me the Money! Collective Fundraises for Pyramid to House 14,000 ‘Jerry Maguire’ Tapes”, at Hyperallergic, 6 Feb 017]