Like Ed Sanders’s antagonistically and aptly named Fuck You Press, whose publication list includes bootleg mimeograph printings of W.H. Auden and Ezra Pound, little magazines from 1964 serve as case studies for an avant-garde scene that grapples with the enshrinement of/resistance to previous avant-gardes…and an engagement with social antagonism….Ultimately, these scenes’ interest in social self-documentation is propelled by an attempt to get around the problem posed by the relegation of poems (of whatever aesthetic genealogy) to the cultural sphere.
It is a facsimile. It is facial angle: European woman. It is stomach simple, similar to a box. It is on either side of inside. It is grapple. It is extracted from lignite and peat. It is worn by women. It is whether with gloves, a moveable roof. It is concerned with whalebone. It is a writing material made of strips of parachute. It is myth, cat, machine. It is a cloth conclusion, of silt formerly. It is this, thin, azure. It is the plates of the skull for signaling. It is a scout concerned. It is the envelope embloomed. It is cavity, clock, cloth. It is a paper book. It is plasticized. It is of sea or not. It is to a petal of another person. It is as wine of a mixture. It is when the sum moved. It is knot, see illus. It is alone and onerous. It is veins as emissary. It is a sickle compressed. It is a pair of ghosted cranes, of silk formerly. It is dignified, sedate, staid, etc. It is where repair works gore (of a skirt). It is to the library foundered. It is a clumsy patch. It is when the issue is one not of fact but of law. It is banish.