My Interview of J/J Hastain in PANK

My Interview of J/J Hastain in PANK

Here, my interview of the marvelous poet J/J Hastain — a poet and innovative writer worth paying close attention to.  PANK did misspell my last name but that’s life. 

Here, a portion beginning the interview: 

MWV:  What is the relationship of the body to identity, and how does language intercede–or not? 

For me, body (corpuscle and feelings therein) and page (what for me is one of contemporary languages’ core impetuses) correlate in stippling-like processes, always approximating authenticity. Identity is the active and ongoing stimulation of a profoundly necessary simulation; a way to relate to (myself as) form. There is a continual need to keep in motion in order for the stippling from stifling.

MWV:   A figure appears in your forthcoming book Luci: a Forbidden Soteriology.  You write:  “The red of the queer mystic’s human flesh in response to the frigid temperature of the river was something that, from that event on, never left them.”  Tell me about the “queer mystic”?  

I love LuciLuci loves you. The queer mystic of Luci (my book) is different than how I work with queer mysticism in praxis but I can certainly speak to both here.

(continue to the link above for the rest!) 

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Final NaPoWriMo poem for April 2013

So, with my good friend, I was able to complete NaPoWriMo. I would recommend that, making a deal with a writing buddy and each night emailing them the fruits of your imaginative labor for the day.  I wrote a poem for each day in April, thirty in all.  I am only posting a few, and here’s the last one.    I had a blast!  Now, to get back to my novel…

Late Song  

a coffee cup  — empty

an open sound frayed at the gathering tips

the last lonely night ending in broken promises

nowhere to go – but up

 

            a deer and a jackrabbit reinvent time  —

Max Wolf Valerio ©  April 29, 2013

The Circle

Another poem plucked from my pile of poems written in this month of NaPoWriMo.

The Circle

 

The stones were not in place when I saw them

sleeping and full near the side of the road

 

heaven was abstract then and a dream away

we played with symbols and fetish objects for hope

 

only on the beach apertures began to open, flooding our senses

musical shells and iron tools were scattered on the sand

 

sleep came as night began to seep into the windows

the moon was radiant

 

I could hear the howling as soon as I got into my car

I could feel the dirt road under the wheels churning bones and the teeth of wild cats

 

we got out and began to search for the hunters

deer and bobcat, svelte badgers were circling at a wide distance

 

sight became extended , up to the stars following the long line of lights along poles

barriers become transparent, as we name the animals and call to each one

Max Wolf Valerio © April 20, 2013

Another Poem from the Vault of April

Another NaPoWriMo poem from this month, do enjoy.

White Water and Red Flowers

prisons
broken
with
animal
longing

arrests
of
bomb
throwers
rage
and
red
flowers

wasps
wrap
a
face
in
pain

cat
feet
bloom
on
white
moon
flowers

hot
tears
long
for
white
wings

heaven
an
escalation
of
ghost
voices

fragments
and
planets
scaffold
creation

star
blue
water
still
as
bird
eggs

trombone
music
slides
wet
into
clouds

formation
and
dissolution
a
song
bends

white
moisture
fog
and
memory

mist
of
soft
vowels
trestle —

Max Wolf Valerio © April 3, 2013

Back to NaPoWriMo — a poem, Elements

So, this year, I am doing NaPoWriMo again, but with a friend.   We are emailing each other poems each day, often quite late.  But we are writing the poems!  Which is the purpose.  This year, I decided not to publish each poem each day.  However, I am going to publish a few.  And, here is the first – Elements.  

 

Elements                                                    

 

On the day of

Swords

          angles abruptly cancel a convergence of soft petals

 

on the day of

cups

           bowls of frankincense soften the pallor of starlight

 

on the day of

reason

       elevations of glass shards shoot up and obscure the open long field

 

on the day of

feeling  

            overflowing liquids immerse my feet

 

on the day of

disks

            the earth is torched by thieves

 

on the day of

wands

     the suffocation of children is silent and linked to wind moving upon soft                   openings

 

on the day of

wealth

           the green shoots are labeled and monitored as they levitate

 

on the day of

energy

           the algorithm opens the satellite’s interior light


Max Wolf Valerio © April 12, 2013

 

a poem: sorrow

My friend Luna Olcott was exploring sorrow in her art. I decided to write a poem upon that occasion and welcome in the new year 2013 with that beginning.

SORROW

 

wiping sorrow
the bottomless

trending
tears

empty as wind
drifts paper cups

silence of sorrow
cigarettes and coffee

Dolores wraps
a rag around her mouth

wounds weep into the dark cloth
days swell inside days

the constrictions
pale as scalding water

throat dirge
sonorous as elements hidden inside emblems

sorrow
slowly    one

sorrow a flight
nocturnal

sorrow unwinding
the flight of thin birds

single counting
left to one sight —

red claws and deep music
low soul low

a photograph
in ashes

gray spectral as
lake water

sorrow

Max Wolf Valerio (c) January 21, 2013