Thanks for the Fisher-explication, cris. I never read any Allen Fisher
poems. Not really or properly. Altho I have stumbled across one or two in
various anthologies. I'll seek himn out with your comments in mind.
Best
Árni
--
Árni Ibsen
Stekkjarkinn 19,
220 Hafnarfjördur,
Iceland
tel.: +354-555-3991
e-mail: [log in to unmask]
http://www.centrum.is/~aibsen/
> people often don't get what Allen Fisher is up to. Not surprising perhaps
> given that he has and continually does many things. One thing that people
> often seem not to get is the humour of transformation. He uses terminology
> drawn from scientific discourses. But he's not specifically trying to tell
> people about those concepts in a boring and straightforwards way. He also
> doesn't ploy such language in isolation. He talks a lot about poetry and
> consciousness. He does wonderful things with line and sentence. It's often a
> collage of sources.
>
> I can give you some sense of this by posting here the first couple of
> stanzas from consecutive poems in the booklet 'Civic Crime' - there would
> be many many other such examples. His poetry occurs between, in the play of
> a body of work - quite deliberately and the stretch of rhyme, rhyme as
> conceptual plot, chiming thought. Forms of vaudeville.
>
> Here's the beginning of 'Camel Walk':
>
> 'The Photographer's image of the Burglar
> separates in her nostrils
> begins to heave
> as he loses his marbles
> When you know the smoke above the town
> you know where you are
> When you love the culture of where you are
> you love the world
> Towards the end of our life here
> decidability clarified.
>
>
> The proof based on the idea that
> all that was possible to construct
> capable of simulating others
> produced a halting problem
> Whether there actually would be
> a stop or an eternity.'
>
>
> and then the first two from 'Cha Cha':
>
> 'The Mathematician considers the Artist
> brings them together in his eyes
> an understanding of agitated cubes
> to release
> the Artist's mystical view of heavy water.
> I do not know what I am
> when I hate the destroyed of when I am
> I hate street speak
> Away from beginning my death there
> without decision - fogged.
>
> There's a lack of air under your impact theory:
> none that can postulate impossible to take part
> incapable of thinking becoming another colloquium
> destroyed in a let-go solution.
> Without this idealisation
> a continual stop.'
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