November 17, 2013

Craig Dworkin & Elizabeth Block

Sunday, November 17
7:30 pm

Blackfish Gallery
420 NW 9th

Craig Dworkin is the author, most recently, of Remotes (Little Red Leaves), 
No Medium (MIT Press), The Crystal Text (Compline), Motes (Roof Books), 
and The Perverse Library (Information As Material).  He teaches literary history 
and theory at the University of Utah and serves as Senior Editor to Eclipse.

Elizabeth Block is the author of the novel A Gesture Through Time (Spuyten 
Duyvil). Her writing has appeared in print, audio, on stage, in public art, on public 
radio, in gallery exhibition, and in film. Her 16mm films are distributed by Canyon 
Cinema in San Francisco. Celluloid Salutations (BlazeVOX) will be published 
in early 2014 in print and on Kindle.

from Alkali

With a fissured script of networked rifts, divisions on a ground record the 
spread of tears across the bed; the hirst rises and dries; lacunar craquelures 
craze lamina like a lacquered glaze.

Alkali halides glare the haze.

Craig Dworkin
(Counterpath Press, forthcoming 2015)

from The Celluloid Sonnets:

(untitled #1, clunky, like loading a camera)

How now is my Lucy in the sky, oh
Ultraviolet Light Spectrum, seems chrome-less
Wonder, if up on my highest dream, dropped
Out the snow, is white a color negative?
Space, chromo-o-phobia, scratched on some plastic
I can no longer have this past, a yearning gone
And how with image daunt, the finger on't
It moves and traces, looks nostalgic eyes
Animal, animal, present here now
I am not true to you, time has more weight
Just seethes back in, circles memory through
Is there a moral to this, beg me
                 Time is not a question here, it goes, it roams
                 Green sea bubbles up, oh how clock foams

Elizabeth Block
(BlazeVox, forthcoming 2014)