January 15, 2005

Lindsay Hill & Bryant Mason

Sunday, January 16, 2005
7:30 pm

New American Art Union
922 SE Ankeny Street
$5 suggested donation.

Bryant Mason writes code and lives in Seattle. He is a founding member of the Subtext Collective, which recently marked its tenth year of mayhem and readings. In 2003, members of the collective performed his multi-voice collage of the work of Louis Zukofsky at the Beyond Text Festival in Los Angeles. Texts under his name have appeared in certain finer publications such as Talisman, Score, and Birddog. He wishes you a new year.

Lindsay Hill was born in San Francisco and graduated from Bard College. He is the author of four book of poems including Avelaval (Oyez) and, most recently, NdjenFerno (Vatic Humm). His poetry has been widely published in journals including Caliban, Sulfur, To, and New American Writing, and he is the former co-editor of the journal Facture. Lindsay lives in Portland, works for a nonprofit and, with his wife, Nita, operates a consulting business.


To: All Department Heads
From: Angel of Rust
cc: Activities Directory
Date: Week Two, Thursday
Subject: Free Time

Shackled to the contrary, even the shape of the question
Takes the form of a little comedy: a matador of the
Culture industry steps into the ring and is immediately
Showered with small, tasty bits of snack food

But we are bored by such stage antics as these, having attained
A child's attentiveness through days upon days of languishing
Lazily in the sun cultivating the dull veneer of misguided spontaneity
Blocked at every turn, the man behind the deli counter resorts
To a more clandestine sport, and heads off to work, a temporary distraction
At best, and ultimately to no avail. And so the incidental music begins
Rising to a groundswell of strings as the denunciation of alleged quarrels
Commences, a consequence of this belated restating of the theme:

The prognosis is not good: information
Between the two of us is conveyed only by an abrupt and violent gesture
Symptomatic of the value she places in the breathless anticipation of the
Promised perfect match. I, on the other hand, seek to be overwhelmed by the
Otherwise indifferent attitude on display-and with good reason-the gap
Ever widens between the illusory controlling figures and their codified
Historical culmination in the play of blind fate. What was previously
Held legitimate disintegrates into the industriousness of a mere blade of grass

Such brute earnestness is hopeless, and soon the spell is broken
The traitor returns to the fold, reformed, and at our disposal
His actions may ignite the fractures in the continuing saga based loosely
On actual historical events, but I by blind impatience refuse to stay seated
This theater may be crowded, but a modicum of madness furnishes all
Collective movements with their power of attraction, and I know this
Despite such self-consciousness, the pressures of the vulnerable places
Still administer the world and such means as these have become far-flung
To the extreme. No one follows his lead, too lost in the action, a parody of
The very kind of people the world needs

Bryant Mason

from Contango

It was one of those stories about staying alive by hiding among the dead

Many arose whose lives stood for golf

She was waifish and insane

Sometimes a door would open in the wall and she would sense this as the sound of wallpaper being torn from behind

Management hired it a month ago and it doesn't seem to understand any of our instructions

You have to arrange the skeletons so that the machinery will work. They are market operations and we are in close confines with them and they must be stood beside us as we go about our tasks.
Lindsay Hill