Post 1: (Nathaniel Mackey, splay anthem)

"What we rode was a book. We
fell out of it, scattered.
The book fell out of my
hand while I slept. Page
upon page upon page
nodded
out on... "

a poetry of alighting syncopation, a poetry that is at once ancestral and visionary (that is to say, modern in its motion and direction), polymathic, and above all something that is beyond the pidgeonholing epithet of jazz-poet. no, this is a poetry that scatters the mind, invisible, into discollected fragments, small anecdotes of the mind's ceaseless theatre.