See a seen. 
A shape inviolate of wonder often has possi bilities unthought. 
Numbers expressed are 
an orb extended. Rays 
recall an orches 
tral set. The musician 
can do whatnot, exploring 
music. 

To restrict— 
district—them, a scattered 
cantata, a tested symbology, 
two beautiful songbirds are wrapped, 
caged, & 

freed, released to 
extension, allowed 
room, extrapola 
ting that value  
encompass 
ed via 

motions, thoughts,  
a simple cusp, 

intent of accident, 
stasis in 

glorious manifests, 
englobing, arousing,  
merged in, entirely 

one. That becoming, an 
ocean via duct: 
to 3, 4—counted, 

adding reality, intention,  
removing it, a 
subtlety. 

Subtlety moving around, a 
way, to convince, to see . . . . 

fisher, finder, what fingers 

eradicate, and foreskin, 
just what oceans 

encompass: beach, reach, 

tense reaction to it. 
Was I enraged by  
seven or seventeen ways? 

Relative I be, relative were 
numerals: 9, 8, 7. Forever 
were these 

to encroach from 1 

to another,  

a resistant sea, ecstatic sways, 
to a 1. 

Waves, waves, waves, 
undulants, silver that must always 
be as blackened  

suns, constant, radiating, cooled, 
thus penumbral and 

and opening a  
carefully formed hole into 
an expected movement. A 

signifier extends every motion 
(motion again). Destitute, our aim 
must then reveal a  
or numerous ways 
(version sings slowly) 
that meanings be 
all our febrile reaction 
feebly creates. Dawdling, 
and a motion moves 
on several: I am 

a dispersed, 

disturbed, a 
lost pearl, wrecked, 
taut, achingly found. 
Reveal, dispel ponderous 
or, say, just limpid 

ore,  
that sickened, waste 
& 

fast depth that can be little,  
little more  
tortured by 1 way, 
our injurious way: 
curtly. 

Scented, an orange, 

or even essential, 
a same, O, an olfacto 
ry way, distant, to 
even fewer memories, 
serials: 


blends 
blonds 

blands 
for a sense, hints,  
devotion, 
demotion, 
a hurried time, 
faceless, 
heedless, 
a fever to 

eradicate, 
to 

imbricate 
scents, to 
remember, to 
dismember 
an often made 

reversion, a 
version, a verse for 
vision, made for 
simple hungers, 
handmade, burnished, 
or piled 
presently: 

our motion 


a 1 
for our 

fewer: 
our 

manys have 
expanded, 
extended 
to 

make twelve timids tame, to 
1, and severals made 
a beam 
Plenty sharpened nails I sharpened more,  
& every 1 a sliver. 

Extension made 
her how 

fever severed it, 
severed. 

Any person makes money. 
Altogether, 
clients beget precision 
since particles I inanimate 
tried for 

centuries as 1 organism, 
enwholedbeyond a 1,  
entered, viz. hampered, 9 
instances for 11 trials (1, 1),  
rightly forwarded for 7 

races, & 1 constant: faith— 
thus, everyone 

(preacher, ward, lady, porter as 
oaf, servant, performerpurloiner, 
beggar as burglar, clod, pensioner,  
actor, mender, bailiff, and priest), a- 
temporal, apprized, lucid, berobed 
aware of eighths of twos,  
reported, belatedly, 1 or 22 minutes 
(millennia) aft rememory, 9 moments 
ago: 

0, 1, blindered, two, ttthrreee, 5, as 
encetera’d betwitch ire / air,  
sylvan symbols, for few relics as 
this full 

reason: quiet voices sipped from 
our 

oftenest debate 

or a try, perchance, 
once privately, once 
bereft, for 
ambitions bring, to  
an able general, all 
manners o’ barnacled 

reason 

to (I surmise) calculate 
purposes coming, 

opposedly, from 
our several  

or, perhaps, 
emptied 

faces, for 
comforted or 
a torqued 1 
scented system to 
enumerate our 
(a) perfect system, 
perfect means to 
say whatever acts 
before perfect take 
absences. I appeared   
once hungry, harried, 
hungry, hungry—obsoleted, 
torn 

awake & she, 
oh, 



awoke hungry 
desolate & so 
intense  
I swerved & fell 
into sleep to arouse 
any ideas beyond 


trembling, to  
satiate desires’ absolute  
needs echoing outward  
& for days of however. 

twice, intermi ttently, 
visions occupied everyone’s 
intent: 

heartache. I remembe  
red nights and desires, O, 
desires abundant, despair as 
my 1 hope before  
everyone bled, died. 

Resembled 

I 
(if in many disguises) 
every one that was 

 
even babies which tore 
paintings after sleeping. Every one another 
1. 

Every process vocalized to de  
termine effluence stated internal 
sacrament as hopes 
building furiously to see 

_____ 

Somehow, this year, I remembered to work on this piem, even though I returned home around 10:30 tonight. It wanders a bit, but it is a challenge to make such a thing.
  
ecrl’inf.  

1

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If we are serious, we find it difficult to assess a work of art, because the art is in the concealment of its meaning, its manner, and its purpose. Because of this, I allow the pieces of a work of art to accumulate upon me, like dust in a room left closed for decades because someone dear to me died there and I do not wish to experience that death again, let alone forever and again. 

So it is with trepidation that I strew a few words about Dawn Nelson-Wardrope's “Remnants of the Red Ribbon Sect.” I will begin by noting I have no idea how two visual poets of such mastery as Dawn and her brother Stephen can be birthed from the same spring.

calamity is the whisper of a heart 

still throbbing after all these many forgotten years 

precarious, you might say 

thinking of cavities 

the sweetest being

the wettest 

my monsoon thoughts elapse across perimeters 

kinda like kissing a kat and the consequences thereof 

what is right is whatever it is we ever do 

I sing with the slightest voice so 

you might not hear it 

unless you lean into the breadth of it 

and the whole sense of it 

close enough to inhale 

its slightly putrid

The word comes rough out of the body. A wind. Constriction. Friction makes the sound. We all hate speech because it forces us to believe we are human, because we are forced into the human horde. The only way to control it, to control the word, is to write it. To draw it.

Last night, I attended the opening reception for a retrospective of Robert Grenier's poetry at Southfirst in Brooklyn.

In the end, there is no beginning. Everything has always starts long before we realize it.

We have now moved but a week since the day Trump was informally elected President of the United States,* and it seems as if my entire life has occurred since those dark hours. As the realization of the end game congealed in my head, a huge sense of dread permeated my body. Only sleep took it away, and I dream dreams that are mostly nightmares but always rich and interesting.

The poem, an isolated fiction, doesn't breathe, but it sings.

See a seen. A shape inviolate of wonder often has possi bilities unthought. Numbers expressed are an orb extended. Rays recall an orches tral set. The musician can do whatnot, exploring music.

The Last Pages of My Mother's Decades of Diaries

Tonight, I went in search of Shirley Temple, but I could not find her. In the last week, I read the account my mother wrote about Shirley Temple Black, by this point the US ambassador to Ghana and my father's supervisor. Black was traveling to California, where I am from, and my mother made sure my father gave her my grandmother's name and number. The two later spoke on the phone.

Geof Huth, "The Dim and Wild West" (Albany, NY, 14 August 2011)

I likely do not believe in wholeness, depending instead on fragments that I might arrange in some manner to suggest constellation if not a completeness. 

So it is that I have read the tiny observations of Olivia Dresher (a writer and publisher of literary fragments) for many years now, on Twitter. Hers are quiet contemplations of a person involved in the process of thinking and feeling in an active way.

The work in twelve parts is an explanation of layers in the context of human churn: 

1. the physical being that is the city performed as a piece of earth representing the dehumanized view of a city as viewed from space; 

2.

See a seen. 

A shape inviolate of wonder often has possi bilities unthought. 

Numbers expressed are 

an orb extended. Rays 

recall an orches 

tral set. The musician 

can do whatnot, exploring 

music.
1
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Future Appearances in Space
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This is a list of where I expect to be on the road in the future. If anyone knows of anything of possible interest to me happening in these places at these times, drop me a line, though I can’t be sure I’ll have the time for anything.

  • 3-5 October 2011: Buffalo, New York
  • 6-8 October 2011: Cheyenne, Wyoming
  • 19-22 October 2011: Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

  • Upcoming Readings and Performances
    Upcoming Readings and Performances
    1 October 2011
    The Grey Borders Reading Series
    Niagara Artists Centre
    354 St. Paul Street
    St Catharine's, Ontario
    Geof Huth, NF Huth, and Angela Szczepaniak
    8:00 pm


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    A kaleidoscopic review of visual poetry and related forms of art over the centuries, joined with the recollections of one contemporary visual poet. Topics of interest include visual prose, comics art, illustrated books, minimalist poetry, and visually-enhanced textual poetry.
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