From “All I Have Is The Body To Go On”

By Marianne Morris.

Everything has always been this way. There is no greater allocation of suffering, no greater allocation of injustice. The lies are not less easy to believe. The facts of this is neither comforting nor consoling; the point is not to comfort or console, but to know how to approach living in the eye of a permanent storm with as much grace and ease as can be summoned, whether in the subtle psychology of belief or in the overt psychology of struggle, when the possibilities for sadness are immense and irrefutable – sadness is irrefutable – what can be refuted is this urge to take myself seriously –

From “Mix Tapping”

By Jennifer Cooke.

[…] crudely we sweat gulp Nubian chasers […]

Poetry Information.

By John Wieners.

Rain with a sour smell. Not to worry, though you might wind up with it — primarily a race against your own skin. The skull is showing. The jerking horses in the old footage, bound to end badly. Psychic hardening, I suppose. Poetry is arranged by sound. I can say no more. A beloved relative from out of town was arriving the next day with a brand new infant who would be tense, disoriented and distraught at discovering herself uprooted from her familiar bassinet and plunged into a great metropolis seething with cutthroats and cheap chiselers. People ought to get out more, play cards more, fight more, fall down more. But we don’t need each other to watch a film, streaming overhead. At your behest, I stood behind the statue, peeking over its shoulder at live persons, catching something of their tenderness. They’ve been marinating, the young and the tough. Meanwhile you should all have live blood cell analysis.

From “An Epistle to David Willetts”

We do not wish to ‘rate’ our teachers;
we wish to learn from them.
We are not consumers;
we are students [...]

Full text.