GUY R. BEINING ant ant ant ant ant three

October 20, 2013 § Leave a comment

dangling with weeds

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I

water as preface,

water-logged theme

STUCK to pages.

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II

paint bone   an EARth

shade & tie

pulley to ribcage.

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III

dark clouds merge

w/ribs of mt.;

a LUNG collapses.

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IV

white, WHITE

butterFLY,

bLINKing light.

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V

isle led thru

pebbLED shoulders of

her 2 shores.

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VI

a paper thin

sMILE passes

porcelain knobs.

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VII

her flesh buds out

from rosy stockings

PULLED DOWN.

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VIII

too soon

the morBID dance

takes hold.

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IX

pluralness into

purpleness, twi-

light sinking.

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X

a snake t h r u stake

tips

a dead leaf.

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XI

go with blow-

fish & bub-

bled up sand.

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XII

agent orange

over Hanoi, red

pockets under love canal.

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XIII

voo-doo, 2 wooden

pegs, her legs   rub-

bed f i r e.

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ant ant ant ant ant four

July 15, 2013 § Leave a comment

“In many ways the culmination of my original vision for the journal.”

ai li, Ronald Baatz, Peter Bakowski, Michael Basinski, Guy R. Beining, Ed Bennett, John M. Bennett, Ernest J. Berry, Diane Borsenik, Jason Sanford Brown, Tom Clausen, MTC Cronin, Bill DiMichele, A. di Michele, Dennis H. Dutton, John Elsberg, Crag Hill, Gary Hotham, Dorothy Howard, Jim Kacian, W. B. Keckler, M. Kettner, Jim Leftwitch, Shawn Lindsay, Paul Long, paul m., Robert Major, Errol Miller, Sheila E. Murphy, Dan Nielsen, Jim Normington, Simon Perchik, Anthony J. Pupello, George Ralph, William Ramsey, Dennis Saleh, Hiroaki Sato, Sam Savage, Caroline Steinhoff Smith, John Stevenson, Michael Dylan Welch, Arizona Zipper.

http://en.calameo.com/read/00251154550cdc71c99db

VARIOUS ARTISTS ant ant ant ant ant three

July 11, 2012 § 1 Comment

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under butternut tree

ears of leaves

fondle light

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Guy R. Beining

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for a while

I look at my bike

without me

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the way

they fit

in her hand

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all of a sudden

the t.v.

doesn’t work

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Tom Clausen

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skidding petal bruises

on the concrete

rain like butter

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small creases in

your information filled with

anxious juices

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A. Daigu

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a few feet

from our feet

the ocean bottom starts

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snow flakes

no one will miss

melt in her hand

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Gary Hotham

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hairs

the many ants

amidst the grass

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hearing a car

that never comes

high pine wind

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Jim Kacian

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stray dog   window reflecting blue sky

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boldly staccato

fissures singing along

maps set aside

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city limits   bulrushes

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year of the pancreas

sandwich for dessert

theater seats upside-down

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M. Kettner

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my dealer says he’s

worried about me gives me

extra for free

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Xie Kitchin

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invited to feel

the stubble on her legs

autumn rain

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Shawn Lindsay

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pebble splash

all I hurl

sinks

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William M. Ramsey

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white blossoms

a fly brings their

beauty to me

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Edward J. Reilly

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In the phone booth

a little girl

talks to God.

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A man asks directions

hand over

his mouth.

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Alexis K. Rotella

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Thesaurus of whites

Moth of months circling itself

Idiot savant

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Dennis Saleh

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Wakened by someone scratching at the window it’s the rain again

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Hot night   a yellow-toothed moon gnaws at the screens

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Turning on the light I become someone alone in a house

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Sam Savage

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the Loki seed

pushed down in the grey folds

until you laugh

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Sean Winchester

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VARIOUS ARTISTS ant ant ant ant ant four

January 15, 2012 § 1 Comment

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pagan tulip crescent often spot remove meadow

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Michael Basinski

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racked up in splendid blood

bones of the ryeman

in the thin wings of grass

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Guy R. Beining

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sigh   lens   hair

(retensions)

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hand around you faceless

daughter blue pond and

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heaving

other clouds

“my name”

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John M. Bennett

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molding oranges

numbers radiate from

a digital clock

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Jason Sanford Brown

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One little nail-hole

treasured as the gateway

its mystery breath

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Bill DiMichele

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waiting for her to stick her tongue in my mouth an autumn sunburn

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Chris Gordon

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most of beauty is iceburgs

the topic crowds with horror

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late patterns of thought

media pretends

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Crag Hill

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clear winter day

over the radio

the first bombs

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Dorothy Howard

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3am

divining god’s law

from raw onions

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gazing on

her sleeping back

sounds of rain

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Jim Kacian

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cattle sleeping

moonlight on their backs

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a cold scream

narrowly occult

ridge draped in dusk

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M. Kettner

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spitting lit matches

into gasolined brambles

shave till opening

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Buspar plural plural

speaking Farsi backwards

on the phone

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Xie Kitchin

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long-lit afternoon

a cut

unhealed

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ai li

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road salt

tumbling in the vacuum of

an ambulance

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Shawn Lindsay

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forked lightening

out over the ocean

her warm fingers

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evening breeze

a white moth floating

in the dishwater

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pear slice falling

to the kitchen floor

pale moonlight

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Paul M.

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dark

the TV ignores

everything

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John Stevenson

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on the drive

there and back

a pine needle in the wiper

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French graffiti   I drop a coin in the phone booth

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overdue   my dead neighbor’s library book

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Michael Dylan Welch

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GUY R. BEINING ant ant ant ant ant six

October 3, 2011 § Leave a comment

The Back Streets Of A Snail

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billboards

pinned to the sleeve

of the highway

:

we of one market

one leaf one fruit bin

await flies & rot

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washes whiter

in quiet of evening

dark creak of table

:

bring me

the room of

a swollen number

:

in mock soup

& fan of turtle shell

sore-kneed Buddha

:

offer pictures of mecca

while playing a dangerous

game of marbles

:

bubbles that

hear flat skin of

sunfish

:

heavy black glove

nearsighted & brusque a bee

breasts pressing mirror

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hand on

soiled number 9

paper off the roll

:

order of night

a hyphenated thought

left in onion patch

:

inhabit this

the back streets

of a snail

:

gets you no further

from nature to circle

the tree in spanish

:

white lips powders

space left by stars

fixer

:

in glass rooms air

listens to itself covers

of light fall & fold

:

a yellow ball from

the women in chairs opens

the crematory steps

:

draw space as maximum

silverware in her hair

& shells to eat with

:

words burn

a cut above the spine

sitting on divan

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rush hours middays other

times black band around

the sky bright eyes

:

the membrane falls

from a table of ferns

stock multi-bodied

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another charred

boat has left

the dock of dreams

:

open blossom or

bloom of voice

in insect light

:

and invention

nefarious angles in

bitter snow drifts

:

and long white wings

the estuary on

its dark toes

:

a circle of mirrors

shut out the stars

people don’t know

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breath

the pin as ice pick

buying the night face

:

colored sharpness

of wild card in

stenciled parlor car

:

go toward

the buried side

of vision

:

dire briefness of

lot pocket it even if

it blackens the soul

:

the moon is not

a number it is a landfill

a gap in the eye

:

on head of mountain

grievous we have maintained

a private clasp

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:

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