A Poem from Klipschutz

THE UNKNOWN LYRIST’S EASTER SUNDAY SERMON TO HIMSELF
by Klipschutz

National Poetry Month or no,
I am, per usual, alone,
in that dreary little cul-de-sac
removed from luck and light,
BOOKS ON TAPE and MYSTERY,
green to yellow COOKING,
the bitter dream of TRAVEL,
surrounded by the pure pith of the ages,
the rotten, ripe and wax fruit of the age.
My eyes fall on an argument,
The Ordeal of Robert Frost,
no doubt misshelved, well-reasoned prose,
which I don’t disturb,
having ordeals of my own.

Outside a weak sun shines
as my Rockports carry me
back to this Tendernob cavern.
(What used to be a “garret, carpet new”
now lists as “atmospheric, skyline view.”)

Okay, he had it hard, we know, we know.
The hired hand comes home to die,
that much I recall, God-fearing solid souls
take him in. Apples, birches, fences,
the virtues of persistence and blank verse.
Still no matter how you slice it,
the ordeal of Robert Frost has gone to sleep.
I on the other hand rock on
from crisis to conceit,
elegy to chorus, cheek to cheek,
beset by editors and landlords without faces.

An early April afternoon could’ve gone worse.
One’s bookworm cul-de-sac is the apple of another’s universe.

Klipschutz (pen name of Kurt Lipschutz) is a poet, songwriter and occasional freelance journalist. This poem is from his new book from Anvil Press.

A Short by Pat A Physics

A Knife Dreamlet
by Pat A Physics

Using the tip of a blade, cut a small hole in the sail. Look carefully through the hole at the birds. It is cold, you are shaking, but you can shift around your ballast if you can’t steady your gaze. Funny birds who drink your thoughts with perky zeal. Their heads move to invisible jazz music. It makes you sick and tired of the sea. It’s specific to the tiny bird head movements. Anger makes you jump out at them. When they fly into the sky, you moan. No one can hear you, and everything is creaking, slapping, and forming waves. Your wave is lost in it all. Becoming smaller and smaller like a balloon that an infant has let go into a cloudless sky. You are now on the other side of the sail and the hole before you has a little flap that angles to the left where you moved your blade. There is a triangular shadow that forms and you can see the threads of the cloth. Your limbs are heavy and numb, and your head aches. You look out at the people you love. They are all unconscious. Some of them look peaceful as they rest, puffing up their lips over and over. You puff out your lips and think about your last kiss. It was after wine and you had been dancing. Now your lips are chapped and are raw from the wind. But you try to go back to the candle light, and the music that spun everyone around in circles. The circles that shaped your fleeting moments. This icy circle that has brought pain and crust. You want to jump into the water and feel the currents swallow you whole. The currents are swelling bellies. Filled with infinite sleep and dream, boundless time and space, and probably fish. You close your eyes tightly to the sea and feel the uselessness. The uselessness is climbing up your throat, into your ears, eyes and mouth. You stop.

Pat is a musician living in Austin, TX and is currently a part of Gary Wilson and The Blind Dates. They are currently on tour in Europe.

A Poem by Smokey Farris

Arbuckle Wilderness
by Smokey Farris

It’s time to buy a truck.
Awaken to a new vehicle.
It’s likened to a wide awake
Nightmare when edgy
And arbuckled into laundering
Your blood from bottomless socks.

The wagon overturned and
A battery of heads rolled down
The eternal cliffs of Ozarks.
Shade given so commonly by
the mirror like moon.
Is taken away
as the Nuclear warheads,
As illustrated on dayglow
Concert posters.

Unfurled curls of southern smoke,
Draft upwards and
Obscure the clansmen.
Who above the dreamlike
Stage of our fair city,
Hurl burning cans of oil,
And delivering telegrams
Of pure hate.

Bottles of booze are lowered
Down the slopes
Into arcades and onto welcome mats.
Memories of almost buying Cocktail
At blockbuster suddenly outweigh
a distant heiress bearing her breasts.

My past life comes in handy sometimes.
I get washed out in a hailstorm.
Get punctured a hundred and fifty times.
Get buried before the light goes out
And count pea harvests
And watch owls
Swoop low upon the earth.
Until time becomes meaningless,
Existence futile
Until I combust into
Precious gold dust,
And sweep my self up
Into a neat little pile of protons.

Smokey Farris runs an engraving shop in Walla Walla, WA. http://farrisengraving.com/

A short by Dirk Michener

The Boys Are Back
by Dirk Michener

When Thin Lizzy plays his guitar I can tell me and him are like brothers. When he is singing about the boys being back in town, I am one of Thin Lizzy’s boys and we just got back from being in some other town for a while, maybe doing some construction work and I just got back, and me and Thin Lizzy go to McFeelies and everybody in there is really glad to see we’re back and there wasn’t any accidents or anything and me and him do a karaoke together of that song “Jailbreak” and everybody’s cheering and screaming and singing “Tonight There’s Gonna Be A Jailbreak!” and buying us pints. Then later I tell everybody that me and Thin Lizzy got to go and do another construction job back east and everybody at McFeelies slaps us on the back wishing us good luck and they’ll miss us and not to worry because they’ll be waiting there for us when we get back.

Dirk Michener is also Cavedweller. You can find his music on bandcamp: http://cavedweller.bandcamp.com/. He lives in San Antonio, TX.

A Poem by Dan Raphael

Phototarian Moon

aware of the dark body , a gelatin shadow ‘mong lights sporadically sourced
like stars with their backs to us, like squirrels w/ white laser eyes
occasionally a tree exhales, occasionally too many branches
for anything to fly through, not enough leaves to empty rains pockets

I smell lemon though its january
butterflies daylight at 1AM
forest of brownian dancers clothed in moss & unraveled flight

the wind speaks the cutesy voice we use for infants & kittens

how 5 inches changes everything—half a head, gravitic multiplication,
another tree without tracks, a banana skin filed with blazing butter light
faster than its own name in a thunderstorm of adjectives
open the flesh to free the salt– last week the clouds were celibateO

tomorrow begins in lush green smog
hunkering into an afternoon brown I wish my skin was
lunar rain brining another night on the grill

Since moving to Portland in 1977, Dan Raphael has been active in the poetry community as poet, performer, editor, and reading arranger.

A Poem by Charles Potts

A New Mayan Letter
by Charles Potts
For Joshua and Jeremy

South of the border
The many borders
Where rich Texas Cubans will erect walls
For the poor to fly over
On their way to heaven
Though it may not be as heavenly
As its proponents take pains to point out.

It’s been a long time
Since I was young
Driven apparently to excess
By roads that stopped at the water’s edge,
The border crossings
Bearing the failures of bureaucracy.

Get old or die
Are the only choices
But living beyond the means
Act young and get real
Make good second choices.

The American dream is rattling the sheets
Of a population asleep in it.
Without a frame
The picture goes on forever.

Charles Potts is an American counter-culture poet. He is sometimes referred to as a projectivist poet and was mentored by Edward Dorn. Raised in rural Mackay, Idaho, Potts left Pocatello, Idaho and Idaho State University in the mid 60s and set out for Seattle, Mexico, and ultimately the location where he rose to literary prominence: the counter cultural hotbed of Berkeley, California. He is currently a horse rancher in Walla Walla, WA. http://bluecreekappaloosas.webs.com/

Oregon’s Willamette Weekly on THE RESURRECTION OF ARTHUR MAGAZINE

From the Willamette Weekly

The Resurrection of Arthur Magazine
November 21st, 2012
By ROBERT HAM

News of any import is quick to spread on the web. But even knowing that, the number of outlets reporting on the return of Arthur Magazine was pretty surprising, especially for a print publication that focused on various strains of the counterculture: music, drugs, magic, underground comics, and organic gardening. Yet everyone from The Wire to the New York Times expended a few lines of HTML to announce that, after a four year hiatus, Arthur would be returning to print starting on December 22nd.

“Frankly, the culture is in such bad shape that even something this tiny is being taken as something significant,” says Arthur’s editor and founder Jay Babcock. “If that’s become newsworthy, that’s kind of sad. But you’re the journalist, that’s your call to make.”

I’ll gladly make the statement that Arthur’s imminent resurrection is noteworthy. During its initial run, from 2002 – 2008, the bi-monthly magazine (released for free) covered an impressive amount of territory. Its debut issue set the template: featuring BMX icon Matt Hoffman on the cover, and carrying interviews with confrontational electro-clash singer Peaches and psychedelic drug enthusiast Daniel Pinchbeck, comics by Silver Jews frontman David Berman, music reviews by Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore, and an advice column from comedian Neil Hamburger. The magazine gained so much attention and fans that they were able to put on music festivals in their L.A. hometown in ’05 and ’06, and released a batch of DVDs and CDs, including the Devendra Banhart-curated compilation Golden Apples of the Sun, which introduced the world at large to the burgeoning freak folk movement.

PORTLAND MERCURY talks to Jason Leivian of Floating World Comics about his role in Arthur’s return to print

From The Portland Mercury:

Arthur Magazine Raised from the Dead, with Help from Floating World
Posted by Ned Lannamann on Thu, Nov 15, 2012 at 3:44 PM

The news spread quickly this morning that late, lamented Arthur Magazine has been resurrected. Arthur was a free, bimonthly music and culture publication that also dabbled in incisive political commentary, and when it departed the physical plane—it ceased publication in 2008 and existed on the web for a few years, before publisher Jay Babcock officially pronounced it dead in 2011—a gaping, literate hole was left in the landscape of music discourse. (That last, terrible sentence reminds us of why Arthur was so important.)

Now Arthur is back! (Arthur 2: On the Rocks, perhaps?… hello?) It ain’t free anymore ($5), and it will be on newsprint instead of sleek, paper-cutty magazine stock, and its publication costs will be predominantly reliant on the purchase price rather than advertisers to stay afloat. The new version of Arthur is due in large part to a new partnership forged with Portland’s own Floating World Comics and its proprietor Jason Leivian. We asked Leivian about the new Arthur, and how both he and Portland will be involved in the new incarnation.

The new Arthur (Issue No. 33) will be available December 22, and can be pre-ordered now. (UPDATE) There will be a First Thursday release party for the new issue at Floating World Comics (400 NW Couch) on Thursday, January 3 at 6-10 pm. ~~Leivian says Babcock may fly up to make an appearance, although that is not yet confirmed.~~ [I can’t be there, unfortunately! —Jay]

MERCURY: How did you get involved?
JASON LEIVIAN: I am really excited about Arthur’s comeback. It was such an influential and important magazine to me when I used to find them at Jackpot Records (usually) back in the day.

It’s interesting for me to recall the steps that brought Floating World and Arthur together. I discovered this bizarre Steve Aylett project ‘The Caterer’ in the pages of Arthur. I went on to reprint that comic. I was publishing a newsprint anthology called Diamond. I submitted an issue to Bull Tongue and they reviewed it. I was so stoked! So Jay knew who I was just from those two projects.

When the magazine was online only I took over as the comics editor for Arthur Magazine. That was how I first started working with Jay. That was a fun gig. It led to more publishing on my end and I think Jay was looking at the newspapers I was publishing as a potential format for Arthur’s resurrection.

MERCURY: Will Arthur be markedly different from its first incarnation?
JASON LEIVIAN: The first few issues of Arthur were on newsprint, so this is a return to that form in some ways. Although you’ll see the dimensions and format of the new issue are larger and laid out differently. I haven’t seen the Indesign files yet but I imagine it’ll be more like a daily newspaper, the way it folds over, etc… ~~I believe this issue that we’re releasing was actually in production before Arthur went on hiatus before.~~ [It’s a different & fresh animal, actually. — Jay] So it will probably have a similar feel to the previous run, but with an all new layout. Anticipate that the next issue after that will be built fresh from the ground up. Jay’s handling all the editorial but I suspect I’ll be sharing suggestions like “Hey Jay, have you heard this new Psychic Ills record? Hint hint.” I want to think of something cool for new comics content.

MERCURY: Will it be published in Portland? Do you know if there will eventually be Arthur CDs/DVDs as well, or other supplements?
JASON LEIVIAN: I’m using a web press printer in Oregon, the same printers that I’ve worked with on most of the newspapers I’ve published. I’ll be handling the distribution from Floating World. Jay and I definitely hope to do more, but we’ll have to review the sustainability after this issue hits the stands. If we can find a magazine or book distributor to help us with shipping and handling I feel like that would take a huge load off my shoulders.

NOVEMBER, 2002…

Ten years ago — 2002 — right about now: 70,000 free copies of the 56-page Arthur Magazine No. 1 somehow hit the streets across North America.

Thank you to everyone who helped get this train rolling.

Thank you, publisher Laris Kreslins and art director W.T. Nelson. Thank you, adfellow Jamie Fraser.

Thank you, senior advisors Mark Lewman, Paul Cullum and Shawn Mortensen (RIP).

Thank you, contributors Paul Moody, Byron Coley and Thurston Moore, Geoff Mcfetridge, Spike Jonze, Neil Hamburger, David Berman, Ian Svenonius, Dame Darcy, Eddie Dean, Joe Carducci, Camille Rose Garcia, Jason Amos, Joseph Durwin, Daniel Pinchbeck, Alan Moore, Pat Graham, Dave Brooks, Steve Giberson, Mike Castillo and John Henry Childs.

Thank you, all the agents in our improvised guerrilla distribution network across the continent.

Thank you, all the entities that spent money to advertise in our untested pages.

Thank you to everyone thanked on Page 3 of the mag: Brendan Newman, Kreslins Family, Oma, Kristaps, Gary Hustwit, Chris Ronis, Kate Sawai, Janis Sils, Bernadette Napoleon, Vineta Plume, Fred Cisterna, Richard Grijalva, Ned Milligan, Lizzy Klein, Robin Adams, Jack Mendelsohn, John Shimkonis, Prolific, Chris Young, Ed Halter, Mike Galinsky, Jim Higgins, Plexifilm Family, Alie Robotos, Domainistudios, Fistfulayen, Natalie and Zach, Janitor Sunny Side Up, Yasmin Khan, Rachel Stratton, Lady Montford, John Coulthart, Henry Childs and Joshua Sindell.

Thank you, Sue Carpenter.

Thank you, Darcey Leonard.

Thank you, John Payne and Andrew Male.

Thank you, Robin Turner.

Thank you to the bands that played Arthur’s launch party at Spaceland in Silver Lake (thank you, Jennifer Tefft): Fatso Jetson, Chuck Dukowski Sextet… I’m not sure who else.

Thank you, Matt Luem.

Thank you, Steve Appleford, for being a real journalist.

Thank you to everyone who played a role who I’ve forgotten or neglected to post here. (Please be in touch!)

And thank you to everyone who found the magazine, picked it and read it.

We’re coming back.

REVIVING

Arthur Magazine

All-Ages Counterculture Since 2002

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