a long time ago i somehow came across the unvert manifesto. maybe not a long time ago. maybe just a year or two ago. long enough ago that i had a chance to forget about it, and then re-discover it and read it with renewed enthusiasm a few days ago.
the way i re-discovered it was kind of fun. i have a little toy called “henry the talking gnome”—you pinch his foot and he records for 12 seconds, then push his tummy-box and he plays back whatever you said in a helium voice. so i found a video on my computer of henry the talking gnome, close-up on his face, squeaking “sex should be a frightening experience like a dirty joke or an angel” (#4).
anyway, i’m really excited about this poet, jack spicer. i was going to order a book of his collected works, but it’s out of print, and the cheapest copy i can find online is like $60—and fuck that. albertson’s library has a copy, which is checked out, but i shall get my grubby hands on it someday, and i shall make copies of whatever parts interest me. which might be the whole thing. which would be a lot of scanning, because it’s nearly 400 pages. can i please find this book at a thrift store or something? miraculously come across a pristine copy for $1? please?
that’s what i’m counting on. in the meantime, i’ll just keep masturbating on street corners and mourning over the cost of rare, out-of-print books.
a bio, and a few poems that don’t cost thousands of dollars to read:
(i think “psychoanalysis: an elegy” is one of my all-time favorite poems of all-times, ever).