Excerpt from [SIC] by Davis Schneiderman

“First 30 Tweets”

just setting up my twttr

just setting up my twttr

RT @noah: just setting up my twttr

RT @crystal: just setting up my twttr

just setting up my twttr

RT @tonystubblebine: just setting up my twttr

RT @Adam: just setting up my twttr

just setting up my twttr

inviting coworkers

RT @biz: getting my odeo folks on this deal

just setting up my twttr

RT @rabble: just setting up my twttr

RT @dom: oooooooh

RT @jeremy: Oh shit, I just twittered a little.

RT @jack: waiting for dom to update more

RT @timroberts: just setting up my twttr

RT @dom: waiting for Jack to update more first

oh this is going to be addictive

Planning for Sprint #4

RT @biz: wishing I had another sammich

RT @meredith: just setting up my twttr

RT @meredith: typing my first message

following Mer

RT @meredith: I'll check back in later

RT @biz: having some flowery orange pekoe tea

setting up my mac mini

RT @jack: lunch

RT @dom: free lunch

RT @biz: feeling pains in my back


Excerpts from "Tragedie of Marks" by Volodymyr Bilyk

Gauche Key Ball Arrow Text-Urn Line

Drone Chi Tea Some Knee Ditto

Gear Land Ah 4

Gear Land Ah 5


true bow pro-VOD

race of vai

trace of why


Cut-Up Poetry by Andrew K. Peterson


1.             Lady Day among the stones
2.            Owns her own rationed refelction [sic] bought online
3.             A can, ivory flowers
4.            struggles,
5.            To accept the local mirror stone gone out of business
6.            The flower pales with desire                                   the end
7.             The flower desires
8.            & throws away its skin
9.            Refractions of refelction left alone undone    the end
10.          I lied, I lay my lying, I do my living on the floor
I lay my laid my Nile on the war beside
The dogs with a wheat block in the blank mountain
College has to smell like a neck & my drink  
Drinks from strange orange effervescent sediment
Minor annoyances / rim mirroring / an email
Should ask for what’s to be thrown out & what’s to get left over
For potential ritual, commemorating a return
From an end towards a non-existent point
Should be beside a bridge


Flarf Poetry by Andrew K. Peterson


never saw him before, never seen him since. 
was trying to prove everything. what brought
it all to life         I id just behind the curtain
in gorilla position          95% or so is    
Shine – control / heat – comeback – finish
One rule: little guys vs. little guys, big guys
against big guys: The irresistible force meets
the immovable object. Don’t we need to give

Everything we’ve got?     then we can recreate
swimming histories       i.e. “I want
to live with a girl called Alex”. The song
says. “I need a real American”. At least that’s
how  I remember   how baffling the squared circle  
is reality both in / outside  of its divisions. wrestling
video voice tapes back before I was sentinel  
consciousness enough to disarm / articulate desires
The song says “I need
a real American,”  At least that’s what I remember.

Maybe Gorilla didn’t wrestle
bears with gypsies, speak no English, raw
eat meat, drink your victim’s blood. someday
learn what you learn, hold down
dust with tacks, suppress a past  you didn’t help build
The Rochester War Memorial,
Discovered bathing naked with bears
Tears in a stream. In summary, The Aeneid, chapter three
Virgil The Bodyguard turns on his employer,
Wins freedom & a million dollar belt.

Will you stop?     A clothesline & a Beauty
The kisses          The breadbasket
External occipital protuberance 
into an airplane spin into   The Manchurian Splash

This place has gone bananas
The garden just literally exploded


"Quiet Birds" by Clive Gresswell

the birds are quiet today
passion spent by the night-calling
outrageous creatures
vested in the black arts
hide themselves in hovels
and the birds are quiet today.

The birds are fucking quiet
fucking today
speaking only occasionally
in their simple language
they invaded your dreams
where Anne Frank met Frankenstein
and the birds are quiet today.

The birds are quiet today
Amid the forest of the damned
Wherein haunt the ectoplasms
Of a crushed human spirit
Long ago and far away
Turning the leaf of another book
Inscribed by nazi warmongers
Plus their handful of poems.

And the birds are fucking quiet
Fucking today
Over the tracks
Still awaiting the last
Whistle of the secret train.
And the birds are quiet today.


Text by Volodymyr Bilyk

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