Reflection of an eye am #8: impress ions

instant wilderness of pineal gland

chiaroscuro smile

drop (of) it

Reflections of an eye am #2

Like a locksmith dreaming of prison.

Short dictionary poem for reincarnated Irish people with glasses

aw-akee at wake

Need (spam poem)

Gabriel forced her under contr
The hound rushed forward with
He motioned her nodding and
Gabriel was going to have a na
Hound was amused by her timi

va caution

Be back with my fragments & poems about 20th. of August... you see next week I'm finishing up a translation of Thomas De Quincey's book Confessions of an English Opium-Eater and after that I'll be traveling to Romania and Moldova... variety of texts are already written, so more poems and poetical serials surely to be published here when I come home again.

Under construction

Short pause again here - my computer is going thru some kind of maintenance job for a week... I'll be back with witty pottery & exploding pomes again when I get the manchine back. At 5-7.7 I will be performing at Kajaani poetry week & at thursday Helsingin Sanomat is going to publish an article relating to it; eight poets are discussing about society.

see this klumsy (cut-up spam poem)

mmh... like me?

yes; absolutely

the frenchman -

bide's like rats

yes, I am boast
just a pipe been
snake drove to

the casino with
moustache on...

Meta-fragment about poetry

wry tinges

Estonia

Leaving again, this time to Tartu, Estonia... I'm going to finish up my fourth (has it really gone this far?) book of poetry with my editor, Captain Hytönen. Collection doesn't have a title yet, but five days at a cottage will get the text straight (or tangled, as meant to be) and we'll find the appropriate title too. So, be back again in a week - this ain't over yet.

Notification

Leaving to St. Petersburg in few days to read poems & attend to some panels; so a short pause for the poems ongoing here - be back with new gimmicks & some wry tinges [witty laughter] in about a week.

Back

Back from my little retreat to Joensuu, Finland. As guessed, my spambox is full of shit, so soon I'm going to post some spam poems here (maybe cut them up a little first) & also some google generator stuff...

Key

Key to the threatening water shortage of earth is melting television snowfall for drinking water.

Miracle

is concealed history. Miracle is said to be something without explanation. Everything has an explanation.

instructive fable, compiled of spoken word, understandable

- But we already have spoken word, what do we need poetry for?

- To communicate differently than spoken word.

time as friendly executioner playing with rubik's cube

The quality of cultural artifact can't be measured by evaluating how it stands the test of time and shifts of contexts. Worthless shit can last for centuries and great artworks can be ignored and devalued right when they are published, maybe even before it. It's all really about the different layers and sides history finds from a cultural artifact at different times by which one can evaluate the historial value of certain work of art... historical phases turn certain artistic object over and over again, and if that object can stand to show its all sides and present still a new side for next generation, then it is going to live.

oratore

Drops into criminal slang is part of Putin’s kit. Part of his chilly magnetism is cultural. He is widely admired for his command of the language. Here, too, contrast is everything. Lenin was the last ruler of the country who could speak an educated Russian. Stalin’s Georgian accent was so thick he rarely risked speaking in public. Khrushchev’s vocabulary was crude and his grammar barbaric. Brezhnev could scarcely put two sentences together. The less said of Yeltsin’s slurred diction the better.

Perry Anderson: Russia's Managed Development (London Review of Books)

It really seems that Vladimir Putin is some kind of “mad scientist” -figure, cruelly intelligent compared to his predecessors, those drunk marionettes of unstable times - execpt of course Lenin, who was a orator and propagandist in Cicero's sense of the word. It’s peculiarly interesting that Perry Anderson refers to criminal slang… that language was formerly an undeground discursive formation, antithesis to formally rigid speech of soviet state; it was own language of voros, criminals and tattooed outcasts whose system of symbolic figures (in Barthes' sense) was very complicated… I recently wrote an essay about bard lyrics on Soviet era (Kerberos-magazine 4/2006) – these singer-songwriters from Okudzhava to Vysotski utilized the criminal slang in their radical songs; and still, altough borrowed property of criminals, it was an underground language, contratext… but now it seems that language of voro can be used referentially as part of the rhetorical equipmnet of stern and in no way antiauthoritarian political leader when wooing people on your side; it’s not an anti-language anymore, but has assimilated to language of hegemony and power – and Putin does this intentionally, he really is mad scientist, especially when compared to G. W. Bush, whose moronic comments, slips of tongue and hubridic rhetorics that first heightened his popularity are now as transparent as cellophane.

sleeping beau

People are living in economic narcosis, state of self-inflicted blindness for everything but exchange value of different things.

in art

everything hasn’t only been invented, but already reinvented.

poetry as a switchblade (if so, is ideal reader MacGyver?)

Reading & interpreting poetry could be compared to use of a switchblade; one can find different sides, angles & meanings from one text and use those discoveries differently because all have their own functions... without intrepretative competence (i.e. knowledge of how to operate the blades) you have only a dull object without no meaning but spatial futility – and if you get all the different blades out at the same time (i.e. read poem trying to reason too much with it) this aesthetical gadget can’t be used to anything. Few blades and functions on one interpretation, few more for some other purpose next time.

declaration of indefiniteness

This new blog, fragmentals, pomes & øther fuzz, is based on my idea that literary blogs as an art form resemble theoretic “progressive universal utopia”, a concept composed by one of the leading writers of early romantic era, Novalis. Best blogs offer literary, theoretical and socially critical material in fragmentary form – & as a whole fragments compile an ever-changing digital opus of textual mind, a work-in-progress that represents (or rather deconstructs) disintegrated reality and explores relation between mind and world outside it as a modern version of 19th. century fragmentary literature. Fragments can of course be longer than just aphorisms, and they can be in form of belles lettres or nonfictional exploration. I am to publish here some experimental stuff, poetry that I have written in English, collage poems & observatory fragments concerning mental & elemental world, society, literature (especially poetry), politics etc. - let's see how it goes.