RUBBING was written in response to found materials sent by David Harrison Horton, as part of Forth Sound Back Daniel Godston teaches and lives in Chicago. His writings have appeared in Chase Park, After Hours, BlazeVOX, Versal, Requited Journal, Beard
Snow
Snow blankets the ground like white choco(late)to dinner means no biscuits (for) you a small down-payment, we can guarantee love, happin(es)s, cape routes include the front door, the (fire) escape, the mind burns the hands if held too tight. Like(wise),
Curtis White: An Interview
conducted by Jeremy M. Davies and A D Jameson as part of “Writing’s Dirty Secret” WDS: Do you use specific materials when writing? And do you have any particular rituals? CURTIS WHITE: For each work I have a different set
Rosemarie Waldrop: An Interview
conducted by Jeremy M. Davies and A D Jameson as part of “Writing’s Dirty Secret” WDS: Do you write by hand, or do you use a typewriter or a computer? ROSMARIE WALDROP: Used to write in longhand, but now compose
Vanessa Place: An Interview
conducted by Jeremy M. Davies and A D Jameson as part of “Writing’s Dirty Secret” WDS: How do you write? Shorthand, longhand, typewriter, computer? VANESSA PLACE: Computer. Do you have a preference as to what kind? Prefer desktop, two 17″
Robert Ashley: An Interview
conducted by Jeremy M. Davies and A D Jamesonas part of “Writing’s Dirty Secret” WDS: How do you write? That is, do you write in shorthand, longhand, or do you use a typewriter or a computer? ROBERT ASHLEY: I should
Interviews Introduction: “Writing’s Dirty Secret”
The following four interviews (with Robert Ashley, Vanessa Place, Rosmarie Waldrop, and Curtis White) were conducted as part of an ongoing project that we’ve been calling “Writing’s Dirty Secret.” Although writing is largely perceived as a strictly intellectual means of
The Chase
The couple chases their perfect marriage across the velvety grass. The perfect marriage is a wet pink bubble. It’s bigger than a house, and it bounces away over the gently rolling meadow. Its woozy shimmer trembles in the breeze. The
Rain
Rain drips from the roof with the rhythm of tr(i)bal drums ‘ll never know what it is to’ve had everything st(ol)en from me d men stagger under the weight of their years. Their greedy eyes weigh them d(own) ership is
Fractures
Not far off the farm, we stumble a truck rut track smack into frack- ing, hardhats and klieg lights. No fence or barbed wire, bare zone of a work site, hilltop and dirt bed, gravel and warnings—bag- gage that towers