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  • I can hear Union Station pealing, taking its constitutional in the green mile mall. The siren has gout. Speculation rises to the roof of the Capitol. Liberty then falls, alas. The ambassador’s ambulance driver rides the whoopy-whoo for some arcane reason – cf Dan Brown. I’m making my own monument to pole dancing: electric ambivalence.…

  • Super Power

    Red/stop hands reflect on the sides of passing silver buses. Who can now discern what’s nuclear, what simply oil or pre- digital? Ladders, elongated hopes, quiet streets & busy boulevards. With disregard for the French. Speak slowly. Totally super is this power struggle between my own two hands. We drive coast to coast, strung out,…

  • Pillion

    Pale-faced, never in control: remember to cry; it’s a buzz. We live, for then we die – or did i hear that in some song? Pillion, side-saddle, tempt the verge: a highway’s inside sources repeat the same old symbols. Leather, road, light. Death is short: only life lingers. Maps of Pueblo design evoke grander gestures,…

  • Foil

    I’ll slide off your face like an egg, slip inside a database

  • Love thaws before freezing over, setting twice as thick across this film of a wearied stare. Following the bridges back: a rusted green lantern points into the air, grasped by hands like the dollar bills that donít exist – not since the amnesty. Cease-fire tensionís stress creates a frozen last option: the flat bed journey…

  • covers: poems by nick whittock (Cordite On Demand, 2004) COD’s second book, by cricket tragic and librarian Nick Whittock, was a lot of fun to make. Nick wanted the book to be shaped like the old Footrot Flats comics. Once we got this in our minds, everything else flowed naturally and what you get for…

  • DNRC045 | LP | 2004

  • Here in Washington DC it’s muggy and my credit’s running out so this is peppy: check out some of me poems online here at nthposition. They’re entitled “in heaven itís always raining”, “why do you cry run lola run” and “when we were in the wild poems” – all of which may sound a bit…

  • Yo La Tengo

    ira caplan’s sonic squall rips new york’s fourth of july gulls from the captivities of silence like a chainsaw through a bough of glass or chalk on yesterday’s pavement; a soul possessed by demons determined to explode his body jerks with stock-market indices richter scale on jersey’s fretboard; blinding sounds erupt then ribbon out dangling…

  • As the title suggests, Cordite 22: Editorial Intervention was devoted to editors. I solicited poetry and other works from over 20 Australian and international poetry editors. Cordite #22 is now online, featuring poems by poetry editors past and present, including Adrian Wiggins, Ali Alizadeh, alicia sometimes, Alison Croggan, Ban’ya Natsuishi and many more! I’ve even…

  • Clint Bo Dean and Enya de Burgh snuggled in the back of the cab on the way back out to the airport to hand in their badges and empty their lockers. Enron had been emphatic: there was no place in the Air Poets for closet Dan Brown lovers. ìYou know, if weíre lucky, we might…

  • DNRC044 | LP | 2004