Spinozablue: An Eclectic Journal of the Arts

The Pressure of Love: Jessica McFadden

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 The Pressure of Love

Electrode laden, head bound
with elas­tic and née­dles    of gel; a moment
of secu­rity and peace— machines
run­ning warm, energy’s lulling
sound, flu­o­res­cent
light and flu­o­res­cent walls: a lover
in a lab coat clears
her throat
and fid­gets with cords.
A lover’s soles
scoff
against linoleum, the laden brain
excites the coated lover
whose fore­play
is an intri­cate set­ting
up of con­nec­tions, plug­ging
the brain up
to machines
after rub­bing skins: some call the act
of abra­sion the begin­ning
of a sacred conception.

                                     Both the heat­ing
and the cool­ing
of body and brain, lover and machine
fall into a space
between
plea­sure
and pain. The child
of con­nec­tiv­ity appears      on a plot
of wave
forms that turn
the lover into a par­ent
of inter­pre­ta­tion
   long after
the brain detaches     from the clamps
of its lover. The pres­sure
that allows the brain’s sus­pen­sion
of itself, if left
for too long (the pres­sure of love,
if not released,
at times) becomes
an unbear­able numbness.…

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New Poetry by Felino Soriano

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Untangled

eyes ensem­ble             tru­ant disbelief

bur­geoned cultural

            denounce         cultivated

                        fath­oms amid fulcrum of

asymmetry’s desirous

imbal­ance

uneven dis­tri­b­u­tion of unrav­el­ing sadness

            these lis­ten­ers              com­bin­ing                   ecu­meni­cal (gra­da­tions of such interest)

meth­ods of atten­tive multifunction

Fragments

sway

            of

twirl

            of

seden­tary

                        oscillation the

                                                            watch­ers becom­ing a lis­ten­ing emblem, interpreting

howl of hol­low contours

com­bin­ing enigma                   ven­ti­lat­ing enun­ci­at­ing hanker among

solid verac­ity this

vacant sum­mary out(cast)side

wan­der­ers of dili­gent proclamation

– by Felino Soriano

 Copyright© 2012, by Felino Soriano. All Rights. Reserved.

Felino A. Soriano is a case man­ager and advo­cate for adults with devel­op­men­tal and phys­i­cal dis­abil­i­ties.  Recent poetry col­lec­tions include Intentions of Aligned Demarcations (Desperanto, 2011), Pathos etched, recalled: (white sky books, 2011), and Divaricated, Spatial Aggregates (limit cycle press, 2011).  He edits and pub­lishes the online jour­nal, Counterexample Poetics.  For infor­ma­tion regard­ing his pub­lished works, edi­tor­ships, and inter­views, please visit: www.felinoasoriano.info.…

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Between the Notes

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Bang on the Chasm

by Robert Mueller

I am won­der­ing about new jazz and new art music, and sep­a­rat­ing them entirely for the con­ve­nience of enter­tain­ing these thoughts. I am think­ing about con­sort­ing with a dif­fer­ence even though what I have to say about one has to be true of the other (again assum­ing for the pur­pose that they are sep­a­rate). Specifically as a mat­ter of degree I want to dis­tin­guish new jazz as a liv­ing pro­duc­tion that arrives cur­rently, spon­ta­neously in the club or spon­ta­neously also at a jam ses­sion or record­ing ses­sion, from the same sce­nario for new art music, which comes to us as a prod­uct, or object, that, when it arrives, may arrive in a pub­lic per­for­mance, but not cur­rently. Rather, there is a delay, for reflec­tion to take place, and even if it were to take place in the few moments after the per­for­mance has ended (that is, right then and there), it nev­er­the­less arrives in the mode of delay.…

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New Poetry Review, by Robert Mueller

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Review of
Alan Gilbert, Late in the Antenna Fields

by Robert Mueller

The writ­ing in Alan Gilbert’s vol­ume of poetry, Late in the Antenna Fields (Futurepoem Books, 2011), feasts on sar­casm and dispir­ited bit­ter­ness, not to men­tion a cer­tain snag­ging anomie.  Putting it bet­ter or worse, the reader might think to assim­i­late it to some kind of art adhe­sion.  One is led, or prof­ited, to hear, and to sense and to pick at, a gen­eral vaguely petu­lant and vaguely dis­in­ter­ested and yet per­sis­tent pat­ter of ambi­ent pet­ri­fied dis­plea­sure.  There is thus less of a dan­ger than a fore­gone cap­ta­tion in this approach, inher­ently.  So far so good if it sticks; so far so good so long as it edu­cates even, guides, charts and win­nows.  But when notes of whin­ing and grip­ing swirl in, as they some­times do, the reader may well wish to give pause.…

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