In the subsequent section, “Wrack Lariat” Heller proclaims the thesis of his audacious undertaking: "[It] is meant to suggest the Artistic Mission. A mission that is compelled to reject all that is stale, handed down - habituated ... intolerant of falsehoods, of the trivially redundant, of the Uninspired Quotidian." He goes onto state, in a footnote of sorts: "The authentic artist ... is committed to injecting freshness/new vigor into Art..." Heller excels at his own mission, to say the least. The "Wrack Lariat" chapter features poems that concentrate on several artists, mostly visual - Van Gogh, Cezanne, Picasso - and one musical (Joan Mitchell), all of whom he apparently feels infused "freshness" into art. In "did Picasso strum?" he inquires whether Picasso actually played the guitar or merely mimicked it in his paintings: "What happened is he played the guitar - Visually. Compositionally. He eye-strummed, retinally fingered, optic-nerved." In the proceeding "The Dot Soliloquies," all verse was inspired by an artist friends' dot-laden notebook. The poems are meant, I am assuming, to serve as the individual "speeches" of various dots. In, for example, "with dot this circumference," Heller asserts the raison d'etre of dots: "the ground of being a dot is/round surround/this round surround/this/bound round surround ground/sound sonic like a circumferential/dot..." A bit later in the same poem, it is stated that it is a "soliloquy in dialogue," an oxymoronic qualification if there ever were one. The penultimate chapter in Heller's epic enterprise is entitled, "Linda Lynch," which is basically an homage to his collaborator, someone who is clearly his artistic soulmate, a sort of creative twin who serves as his visual translator. But in this section, Heller acts as translator, "hinging to" Linda Lynch's presented drawings, and transforming them into words. The final chapter, fittingly, is called "Aperture." These poems don't necessarily take Heller's work into new directions, but they do provide a large "opening" into which we can peer or fall at will, spying on his process or taking a brisk walk through the "landscape" of our imagining, since "the landscape plus what we bring to the landscape becomes our point of view." After all, he cautions us, "Language achieves landscape both combinatorially and singularly..." And this, really, is what Wrack Lariat is all about: Language as landscape. Heller creates landscape through language not just through how the words appear on the page, aesthetically - in jagged, frenzied lines, in tidy prose pieces, or in hybrids of zooming lines and neatly cultivated prose - but in how he curates and arranges words to fit with each other, like a puzzle constructed by MC Escher, where everything simultaneously does and doesn't make sense. Wrack Lariat is the very definition of "controlled chaos," and Heller Levinson is a word-Cubist.
RICHARD BRAUTIGAN WROTE By James Babbs Richard Brautigan wrote The Pomegranate Circus on the same day I celebrated my very first Christmas I got a string of bells from Mom and Dad and a dollar from Grandma Walker it says so right here on page 34 of my baby book Author bio: James Babbs continues to live and write from the same small Illinois town where he grew up. He has published hundreds of poems over the past thirty years and, more recently, a few short stories. James is the author of Disturbing The Light(2013) & The Weight of Invisible Things(2013).
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! !!!!!!!!!!!! ! ! DEDICATED TO THE
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Songs like "Starman," Life on Mars,
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egardless of education level or eco
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Domestic Each scream is a long razo
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Lasagnas were unrecognizable; burri
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was what was wrong with society, an
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There are three memorable scenes th
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TWO POEMS By Sommer Lyn Cullingford
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from the hellion haunt of hydra-hea
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Observations of the self written in
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Pneumatic pianos play all night for
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the surety gives way to randomness.
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Ice Cream Utopianism By Matt Duggan
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Two Poems By Jeff Nazzaro Author bi
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y the minutiae of bureaucracy. It i
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esponsible behavior. I was amazed a
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G: Clifford H: My Little Pony I: Th
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Babes in Toyland: Riotous, But Not
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Elsewhere, self-loathing, corrupted
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This is Me and My Dogbite (Satire)
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to share. Someone WAS losing weight
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Mechanically she works her beat, tu
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Two Poems By Catherine Zickgraf Aut
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CRAIG CZUGASCH, an MFA dropout at E
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TWO POEMS By Laura Madeline Wiseman
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Two poems By Lana Bella CHIASMUS Yo
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Llegando by Jack Little Artist bio:
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its majestic neck and squawks helli
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A helicopter passes just under the
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The Living Room By Christopher Payn