Posts Tagged ‘ The Volta ’

Evening Will Come

Jeffrey Angles
On Hiromi Itō’s “Cooking, Writing Poetry”

Evening Will Come.


Roland Barthes – The Incident – from “Empire of Signs” |Evening Will Come

Roland Barthes
The Incident

Evening Will Come.

indra’s net by Donna Fleischer

“Imagine a multidimensional spider’s web in the early morning covered with dew drops. And every dew drop contains the reflection of all the other dew drops. And, in each reflected dew drop, the reflections of all the other dew drops in that reflection. And so ad infinitum. That is the Buddhist conception of the universe in an image.” ~ Alan Watts

“In Hua-yen and Zen Buddhist thought the Net of Indra, which originates in the Sanskrit “Avatamsaka Sutra”, constructs the cosmos as a multi-dimensional array of interrelationships that simultaneously and repeatedly reflect each other and the whole as jewels embedded within each node of the net.” ~ Donna Fleischer

“Indra’s Net”, the book, is housed with the Japanese Museum of Haiku Literature, Tokyo, Poets House NYC, UMASS – Amherst DuBois Library, the Canadian Haiku Society, & the California State Library Haiku Archives at Sacramento.

[indra’s net (bottle rockets press, 2003): 25 haibun by Donna Fleischer, out of print & available free at Scribd

[REVIEW] The Volta Book of Poets, edited by Joshua Maria Wilkinson – [PANK]

[REVIEW] The Volta Book of Poets, edited by Joshua Maria Wilkinson – [PANK].

mind poems and the sky by Eric Magrane | The Volta

Take Down the Clouds

Sueyeun Juliette Lee

Take Down the Clouds.

Felix Bernstein Notes on Post-conceptual Poetry [excerpts] | Evening Will Come, May 2014

pic-fbernsteinFelix Bernstein

Felix Bernstein Notes on Post-conceptual Poetry | Evening Will Come, The Volta

Felix Bernstein debuted on YouTube with his real and satirical Coming Out Video in 2008. Since then he’s embodied characters ranging from Amy Winehouse to Lamb Chop to Leopold (peter) Brant. He performed in George Kuchar’s late diary films; Synonym for Untitled (Andrew Lampert’s multimedia piece for the Whitney restaurant); and Red Krayola’s opera Victorine (which he co-directed at the 2012 Whitney Biennial). His criticism has been published, or is forthcoming, in The Brooklyn RailHtmlgiant, and The Boston Review. With Gabe Rubin, he sang Jellicle Cats for nearly four hours on GaussPDF and directed the movies Boyland and Unchained Melody; together they front the punk band Tender Cousins. – Evening Will Come: Bio | The Volta, May 2014

Subterranean Haibuns by Tamiko Beyer / Evening Will Come :: The Volta

Evening Will Come.

Ana Božičević from ILLUMINATED lives of the She-Philosophers: an infomercial / THE VOLTA

Ana Božičević

Ana Božičević


The Crone in the Hiccup of Light, by Amy King / They Will Sew the Blue Sail

Poet Amy King

The Crone in the Hiccup of Light by Amy King

Why Write, a poem by Noelle Kocot

Why Write | Noelle Kocot

Take the most abstract
Forms you can imagine.
Now break them down
Into tiny people,

Wrestling at arm’s length
For some soup. The
Heaviness of the day
Was taken with us,

Lost as we are in
Imagination’s tirade.
The partial wind blows
Over the fields. I mark

My freedom to its end,
Dance with the long-
Legged lemurs, the consonance
Astounds me! No more

Crying in this landscape,
Kiss goodbye to the flowers.
The coldness is something
I must express, as we

Go on like this for ages.
Gold covers us, no, it wrecks
Us, and we own nothing.
Call it love, call it non-

Being, call it anything,
But what it is, a scrape on
The foot of a god. Without
This joy, what can anyone

Tell us? The tiny people
Are united in song, the
Tennis courts jump with
Ample pleasure. If I were

To fly out of my body
Into some other realm,
Would I be able to buy
What I need in terms

Of my latent sense of smell?
With the heaviness of shadows,
Spring will return, will not be included
In books we know

About. A kiss will be
The last thing we think of
When we join the ruptures
And the upturns

Of the present phase of
The moon. Slippery as
The night is, we still want it,
So as to balance out the days

Where we were colder
Than the lunar knife that
Sliced us. Drama is something
We think about, but then

Merely dismiss through
The disgruntled music
Of our broken hands.
We have already won,

Will sluice through
The never-ending portals
Of another time and place.
Reading the dictionary

At fifteen is one thing,
But it is quite another to
Express the gone-ness of
A peasant’s breath. And

What will you do, if you
See a monster under your
Bed, and it turns out to
Be a headlong dive into

Life’s golden trials? We
Are generally happy that
We exist, and we write
Poems to celebrate sometimes.

But I can tell you, this
Exquisite solitude is shared.
Some go on to the prancing
Air alone. The piano thrums

In the background. Nothing
Costs anything anymore
Where the other one is.
Bare-breasted I write,

And I give it all to you,
Sweet nothingness, a golden
Circle around tape that marked
Where you lay. The music

Thrums harder now, and I can’t
Hear my own rhythms,
But that’s okay, the life
Flows through me like a sea.

Resentments fly away like
Ornate gold birds. We will
Never reach the themes that
Have their grip on us. The day

Is darkening now, and words
Cannot express it. I will make
Some tea for you and me. But
Who is you? Dear reader,

I am oppressed by your thoughts,
By your reading into it all.
Without help, it is too much
For us. And so I will help you,

I will tie your shoe, in the last
Breath of darkened air. Go
Where you will. I give you
Something to take with you

On your trail into the forest.
We have mated in a way,
And now we walk separately
Into the flashing air.

Noelle Kocot
from They Will Sew the Blue Sail
The Volta