scherzos benjyosos

With this new book of sedimented lyric, John Wilkinson’s poetry enters a terrain of creatures flattened in shale, in flat screen and in digital code. If Silicon Valley would repopulate Jurassic Park and defeat death, Wilkinson’s poetry would make actual what slides past in the disregarded day, whether the flattening of a city or the return of seasonal blossom. This poetry swells dry roots; it breaches the total coverage that flatlines the heart’s response, through its urgent and generous rhythms.

Designed and typeset by Phil Baber.

Dear ____,

I happened to look for a while out of “my” window on the 17th floor Palliativstation of the Wiener Allgemeinen Krankenhauses last night, where an enormous orange moon was hanging about, consorting with a lick of dark cloud, near to the tiny gaggle of skyscrapers. I didn’t have much to say for myself and so it just sort of looked back at me. 

Every day friends and well-wishers come here and as always I want to run to my room and read a book until they’ve left but for the first time in my life my room is also the room they want to visit, and so I can’t. I wrote down yesterday as best as I could the words of my last long conversation with Marina: there might be more, but the words are running away from her now, which only makes you realise how small and insignificant they are, fleeing from something (from someone) who remains exactly who they were even in their absence: like dust falling from the sun.

* 

A voyage in the insight which comes as a kiss and follows as a curse, made after you ran out of things to say.——first halting efforts at mutual understanding——love letters from twelve years ago. journal entries from fifteen years before lick at the edges like flames. Opaque coloured shadows, projected in three dimensions——of a——future that——has. never ceased to exist and which——Doesn’t——.——.——arrive to speak about their fears.—— Beginning with a naked bathroom selfie. 

An attempt to live nonjudgmentally and without fear, against the desire to be something other than who you were, as a basic form of class hatred, a fear of the common and of everything that happens there, near speechlessness, trailing off, only sometimes coming back to life again, shame dies so that everything else can be saved, and everything else remains present against the background of this absence, beneath the harsh overhead light, as you pull on the pathetic, unassuming string of the pullcord. 

Dedicated to one person, written by one another. “Poems written by / different poets / are my nakedness.”

Douglas Oliver (1937–2000) and J. H. Prynne (b. 1936) are two of the most original and ambitious poets of the contemporary era. Eschewing the conservativism of mainstream postwar British verse and embracing influences from America and Europe, each developed their craft through continuous correspondence and exchange as part of the febrile scene of poetical community and contestation that emerged in Cambridge in the 1960s. Their works over the following decades exhibit frequent shifts in form and style, from Prynne’s radical transformation and dispersal of the lyric tradition to Oliver’s adaptation of dream visions and medieval-inspired verse satires.

Their letters are a record of both the high stakes and playful experiments that constitute the writing lives of two singular poets determined not just to engage with modern political and social life during decades of crisis and upheaval, but to contribute through the circulation and publication of poetry to what Oliver calls “a community of political ethic.” Over the course of more than thirty years of friendship and mutual appreciation, the motivations for, and consequences of, their poems are constantly worked through, tested out, evaluated, and contradicted, always with a view to what the poetry means for the other, for the poetical communities they inhabit, and for the life of poetry itself.

This volume collects for the first time the majority of Oliver and Prynne’s correspondence, allowing new insights into the literary, political, and historical contexts of their lives and writing. An introduction, notes, and appendices provide a scholarly apparatus to situate Oliver and Prynne among the poets and publishers with whom they worked and socialized, and to identify and expand upon their frequent references to an enormous range of source material and reading matter.

“The correspondence between J. H. Prynne and Douglas Oliver is gripping and illuminating, brilliantly edited and completely absorbing. Two great poetic intelligences respond to each other’s work and to the society around them, thinking through the issues at stake in their poetic practice, their differences in approach, the different worlds they inhabit, their shared commitment to writing poetry and their admiration of each other’s work. The letters, complex as their matter can be, repay repeated reading; taken together, over a period of 33 years, they chart the context and creation of some of the most significant work in late twentieth-century poetry. This is an utterly engaging volume, and should be read by anybody interested in poetry and its place in the contemporary world.”—Ian Patterson

“For writers who welcome each other as peers, the exchange of letters is the spontaneous moment of exposure, the drawing out of selves. It is thinking in mutuality. In this thoughtfully edited and carefully, even beautifully, presented correspondence between Douglas Oliver and J. H. Prynne, two of the preeminent poets of the ‘British Poetry Revival’ of the post-World War II generations, we witness two writers of immense gifts thinking with each other, coming alive to thought and, ultimately, a shared world or community of wish. There is life, there is death; there is grief, there is anger – and love – but always there is a seeking, an attempt to arrive at a language for our worlds. Henceforth, one cannot imagine reading the work of either Oliver or Prynne without this correspondence and all that it offers in openings onto what Oliver himself saw as ‘the poet’s full performance [which] is the whole life’s work.’ It is a glimpse into an athanor of poetic creation.”—Michael Stone-Richards

Peach machine comprises nine months of poems, tracing a recurrent cycle of sickness, heartbreak, reparation, and recovery from late summer back into early Spring. The work is roughshod: grieving, oxygen-starved, jetlagged, reflective, and relieved.

Designed and typeset by Phil Baber.

An English translation of Peter Handke’s 1986 novel Repetition, previously out of print for a quarter of a century.

“In Repetition, Handke allows the peculiar light which illuminates the space under a leafy canopy or a tent canvas to glisten between words, placed here with astounding caution and precision; in doing so, he succeeds in making the text into a sort of refuge amid the arid lands which, even in the culture industry, grow larger day by day.” —W. G. Sebald

“In his earliest work … Handke found a way of conveying a state of mind … where words seem to come between you and the world, where nothing coheres or appears natural, and from the vantage-point of which the ease with which other people talk and go about their business seems deeply suspicious. But just as Kafka felt there were moments when, miraculously, a written sentence – even one written by himself – seemed full light, seemed to fill its own space and establish its own rhythm, and when even the whole story seemed mysteriously to stand as solidly in the world as a tree or a rock, so it has been with Handke. He has, in his later work, appeared to make a conscious effort to escape from the debilitating awareness of his own lack of authority or authenticity, and tried to write as though somehow the story were already written, had, in a sense, always been there… Repetition is the triumphant climax of his career so far…

What saves the book from the sort of sentimentality we find in John Berger’s recent work is first of all Handke’s uncanny ability to convey what it is this urge for pattern has to overcome, and secondly, his extraordinary attention to detail, historical, geographical, botanical, and linguistic. (No review can possibly convey the richness of Filip’s meditation on his brother’s two books, or Handke’s magical way with images.)

His narrative … is one of the most dignified and moving evocations I have ever read of what it means to be alive, to walk upon this earth.” —Gabriel Josipovici

Taylor Johnson’s debut poetry collection, Inheritance, explores the complexities and limitations of language, physicality and capitalism. Resisting singularities, each poem emerges with a distinct sound, space and sensibility. Whether driving in a Lincoln Town Car; moving through pine forests and becoming immersed in the sounds of animals and nature; languishing in a lovers’ invitation, transcending from the syncopation of Go-go or walking the pavements of Washington D.C.—‘dissolving into sound’. Johnson’s critical perspective is rooted in connection. These poems gesture towards the tools we might need for living alongside rather than against or in spite of an inundation of daily oppressions. Be it redefining trans Blackness, environmental degradation, or land ownership and labour. With receptiveness and tenderness Johnson strolls around language, listening to silence—inheriting it, filling it and remaking it. 

A fullness of the erotic that pervades the entirety of the book to its edges, where a continual corruption of our often unexpressed desires overflows into forms both lyrical and traditional. "Butterflies Come Out At Night" continuously asks where the "you" stands, and if desire can empower one to reach a fullness of self. No othering, but flowing seamless from source to rapid source. The book explores this encompassing and embracing body of care and power through poetry, collage, enchantments, and spells and keeps an aura that constantly shifts where the erotic nature of both writer and reader bloom through out the reading.

Jaime Gil de Biedma is the most original and influential among the poets known as the ‘50’s Generation in Spain, and is considered the greatest Spanish poet to emerge in the second half of the 20th century. His life and literary career were bracketed almost entirely by the rise and fall of Generalissimo Francisco Franco, notorious for the suppression of literature. Born in 1929, Gil de Biedma was six years old when García Lorca was murdered in Granada at the outbreak of the Civil War, and his collected poems, Las personas del verbo, first appeared in 1975, the year Franco died. What is surprising is that Gil de Biedma was a leftist, homosexual poet from the Catalan capitol, Barcelona – all of Franco’s favorite things – who not only published books of autobiographical poetry in Spain but was known as a poet of social conscience as well as erotic lyricism. Like other Spanish poets of his time, he chose his words carefully. Gil de Biedma died of AIDS in 1990.

If Only For a Moment (I’ll Never Be Young Again) consists of an extensive bilingual selection of Gil de Biedma’s poetry, including all of his most well-known work. The book additionally consists of a Foreword by Spencer Reece, Jaime Gil de Biedma’s short essay “I wanted to be the poem,” and two different essays on Gil de Biedma and the art of translation by James Nolan, the volume’s translator.

Pivot is an experimental, book-length poem exploring the profound act of "turning", with the Haitian Revolution as its cornerstone.

Pivot moves beyond historical narrative, scrutinizing this epochal event through its pivotal moments—critical junctures of rupture and radical reorientation. Mason Jordan masterfully employs repetition, metaphor, and other minimalist abstractions of language to delve into the visceral and conceptual mechanics of turning: a turning away from colonial subjugation, a turning towards new vocabularies of freedom, and the cyclical turning of memory. Through linguistic architectures and etymology, akin to the likes of Fred Moten, N. H. Pritchard, and M. NourbeSe Philip, Pivot examines international revolt, revolutionary fervor, and the development of Black Marxism(s) through a critical reflection on Haitian revolutionary history.

The Poeticians is a publication of the performance of the collection of clothes and poetry called Writing Wounds To Heal by Swedish choreographer Pontus Pettersson. Made in velvet silk with the poetry burned out in the fabric exposing the texts, the poetry exposes both itself and the skin of the performer. Throughout the durational piece the performers are doing Pontus Petterssons cat practice and is one of the main ingredients of the project as well as the clothes/poems. The Poeticans is also a choreo-curational event that hosts different choreographic proposals inside of it. It is seen as module or installation where pieces, objects, performers can be inserted rather than a performance that executes and performs the same over and over. It was created as an extension of Pontus interest in poetry and choreography where hospitality and proximity is seen as key concepts in the development and execution of the event.