Reprinted from The Acts, The Shelflife, Vol 2: Polyartistry (1988)

In intermedia, there are areas of contention where these forms develop inexpressible components in terms of technique, overall style or even simply genre. Maybe these are signs of the interintermedia, those media that have forced their roots into the cracks btwn various intermedia & are now a nuisance that is difficult to eradicate (for those who wd care to) & almost as difficult to define (for those botanists among us who see the cataloguing of new flora as a requisite obsession). But the term “interintermedia” is just a marker that tells us how feeble our critical vocabulary has become.
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Walt Kelly, Incompleat Pogo, p 30

Sometimes, all I want to do is sit still and meditate upon a page of Walt Kelly's Pogo: the sure pen lines, the occasional pools of black, the white sky, the clear personalities in the characters' faces, the crazed dialect, the way the word balloons fill almost to the bursting point with words.

ecr. l'inf.

For almost two years, I have been writing a letter to a young, imaginary visual poet almost once a month. These letters talk about how to lead a life as a visual poet, including the role of the visual poet in the world at large. The letters also tend to include theoretical discussions of visual poetry and how it works.

I have written twenty of these so far. With this vigesimal set in place, I’ve decided it’s time to place them all in one place for easy retrieval.

Geof Huth, "birch breaks" (26 August 2006)

I spent part of tonight reading through old blog entries as part of my research for creating another entry. The work was time-consuming, especially when the blogpage for June 2005 wouldn't load on any computer in the house. This problem led me to a possible solution: downloading the code for the page.
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I spent tonight preparing my personal papers for transfer to an archives. Most of my time went into deciding what I didn’t have to keep any longer in the house with me. This is a multi-step process. The first time through my correspondence was about a year ago, and I set aside about two boxes of correspondence. A few days ago, I took out another box. Tonight, another two.

Geoff [sic] Huth, Burlingame, California (1960)

Appearing in my friend Gianni Simone’s latest issue of Call and Response was an essay of mine about my connection (or lack of connection) to place, to “home.” The essay was overlong and too quickly written, but once the issue of C&R came out Gianni encouraged me to republish the essay to this blog, since he thought it helped explain my interest in visual poetry.
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A. A start. An ox, but only the head. Ox-head. Horns sticking out and up until tradition turns them upside-down. Then legs steadied upon the ground. The peaked roof of a house, A-frame. A, one. A=1. The beginning. A, An, And. Beginning and continuation. A longing. A which is a and a, majuscule, minuscule, one-story, or two. Each recognizable by legs or a vestigial leg and always the hole boring through it.
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Only a few days ago, I wrote about Call and Response, a zine put out by Gianni Simone, so I thought it time to mention Call & Response, a chapbook of sorts by derek beaulieu and Jonathan Ball. I thought this especially in tune with the coincidences of the day since I also received today (via derek beaulieu himself) a request for submissions to the paraliterary issue of W put out by the Kootenay School of Writing.
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"Wu / Name / 1993," Beech Tree, Inspiration Point, Letchworth State Park, Livingston and Wyoming Counties, New York (10 Aug 2006)

Back to the beech for the third time this summer, I can now report on the meaning of the Chinese text on this tree. I asked my colleague Zhibiao Chen to translate this for me, and he did. "Wu," a surname, is the first word. Zhibiao explained that Chinese people see their last name as more important than their first, so that explains the use of this name on the tree.
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a

lit tle

less than more

me

aning me

ssage and me
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