the spiral consilience

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oudeís. the spiral consilience. gnOme. 2016

“Odysseus, in Homer’s Odyssey, plays upon his name—Ou-déis/Ou-tis meaning no-one/no-thing—in order, through nomenclatural disorder (or rather: divisiondivergence), to outwit and outwitness the Cyclops, a creature of singular vision and ultimately also of unbounded blindness. Oudeís, in The Spiral Consilience, sings a similar siren-song and sets out on a similar voyage, albeit one over the course of which the Ulyssean body, in turn, makes a rather mèticulous U-turn and turns out to be a Mètic Mœbius itself (the Mètic Mœbius stripped Bare by her BachelorsMastersDoctors and Readers). “Time left no corpse but infinite space”: here, in the first words of The Spiral Consilence, the corpus—the collated collection qua bound book—corporealises out of an excised yet all-the-more exquisite corpse. This excision is, precisely, an exacting and enacted kenosis: an open negation that finds affirmation on the very next page and then onwardon and on, from siren-song to siren-songvoid vocalisation to vocalised void—to the ever-approaching parousia/ousia beyond the vale of the valley of death/revival/regression/recision-and-reclamation. The recitations herein—the{ir} excisionsrecisions, and incantatory reclamations—are those of a rabid iconovore, and each of its devoured figures or forms informs in its deformation and in its devouring the various epitaphs (or rather, chronotaphs: there where time left no corpse but infinite space) of an incomplete whole, of an ongoing hole-complex, full of cross-cutting tunnels as vast as The Great Wall of China: there where they are digging The Pit of Babel qua Garden of Forking Paths (pace Borges and Kafka). Oudeís, in The Spiral Consilience, engraves in each chronotaph-epitaph—each poetic page—the gist and the widening/planet-wide gyre of the grave-digger, but a grave-digger set adrift on the seas, digging into the tides of today with the oar of Odysseus: that oar of {y}ore which turns out (in yet another Ulyssean U-turn) to be a Golden Rod or Rod of Divination, singing in its Sea-Slicing qua Dowsing-of-the Deep the siren-song of Wor{l}dly Icons and Other Conjurations.” —Dan Mellamphy 

My reading of the poems in this book has only confirmed once again that I can no longer respond in any meaningful or robust way to written literature. At this point in my life, I can react only to watching or listening to performances of writing, something that no doubt sounds strange and even pathological to others. Nevertheless it, this is how it is for me. Even my old favorites no longer provoke the interest and emotion they once did. I deeply regret this condition of limitation. I might describe this condition as one of literary anhedonia, likening it to the better known experience of musical anhedonia, from which I also suffer and which I realize is not comprehensible to the majority of individuals. Thus, I must apologize for my inability to offer a blurb to what may very well be a fine book. —Thomas Ligotti

forthcoming

The Filatory: Compendium I

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The Filatory: Compendium I.  gnOme. 2016. ISBN-13: 978-1540567512. ISBN-10: 1540567516. 164pp.

This collection marks new experimental domains for The Filatory, an unidentified circle that operates with the intent of concealment: re-creating the impulse of secret societies in an age of instant exposure to all kinds of thought. The specific offering found here is a joint effort of several international factions, textual fragments that are both offered in original English and translated into such. The Filatory: Compendium I generates ideas that displace expression, taking on a life and clearing a space of their own.

CONTENTS: Strands. Book I: Secrecy, Suspicion, The Writing of the Haunt, Architectonics, Counter-Prayer, Collection, Artificiality. Book II: Smoothness, Bones, Laceration, Threading, Layers, Emblems, Apparatus, Saturation, Residue, Slippage, Estrangement, Pockets, Gestures, Distractions, Dreams, The Call.

“This Compendium is a pandemonic response to the apollonian data-networks. Swarm-written by a legion of damned souls crawling their way through Negarestanian worm-holes to gather in a global conspiracy for committing a multitude of sins, The Filatory Compendium will kindle an ambivalent worldwide revolution of darkness, despair and joy. Inspired by the ancient arts of commentary, collection and murmuring, the writings weaved by this secret society are directed to those few ‘endangering individuals’ onto whose bodies ‘the effects of secrecy are inscribed’ —so they can act as non-ingenuous transmitters of the deepest vibrational pleasures of sin. ‘The secret reveals much more than it conceals at times,’ whispers the acephalous, multi-tendriled beast. The gates of Hell have been ajar for a while, and the old sinners of wisdom—the ones who once witnessed Dante passing by— are walking among us in disguise. Weaponize si(g)ns. The thread is out there . . .” — Germán Sierra, author of Standards (Pálido Fuego, 2013) and Intente usar otras palabras (Mondadori, 2009).

forthcoming

Geophilosophical Branding

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Maure Coise. Geophilosophical Branding. ISBN-13: 978-1537276588. ISBN-10: 1537276581. gnOme. 2016. 132 pp.

Reputation currency. X file. Anti-humanist/inhumanist perspectives. The colour out of space of reasons: representation, embodiment, and emanation.

Commodities of motherly love found corporate culture. Paranoid materialism refers structure: environment, technology. Human nature ought maintain relations with nonhuman nature, by engaging human body, example, through qigong. Develop body, develop relations with family, with land, some, freedom state, accord with heaven. Alienating the explorers. No, formal, time. But danger, she says, cut off her line. Sight, the same judgment suspended her pursuit. Course, unwritten. Dangerous desire continues her illusory sovereignty. She doesn’t see—like inside blowing her foghorn signals. Not sounding warning, but summoning fog. Only reasoning private property, she says, public service.

“Poetry in the only form it has left to exist in—an exit from poetry, timestamped with your own epitaph. Geophilosophical Branding is a fucked-up, Confucian diagonal that will take you nowhere but into that abyss in which the ever-alienated explorer touches its own incomputable hole. If you’ve ever wondered how to remove your skin, what it is that zero conceives, if you aren’t an island, or what the stakes of bolting reason back onto the earth are, this is for ‘you’. If not, a warning: do not read Coise unless you have a lot of blood to give.” – Amy Ireland

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GB @ goodreads

A Natural History of Seaweed Dreams

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Rasu-Yong Tugen, Baroness de TristeombreA Natural History of Seaweed Dreams. ISBN-10: 0692712097. ISBN-13: 978-0692712092. gnOme, 2016. 118 pp. $9.99.

“Plankton-fed, sleep-drugged eyes cast down in the direction of the sacred.”

“Manta rays bloom in cosmic night.”

A collection of prose poems reduced to their elemental, mineral quintessence. A Natural History of Seaweed Dreams is a companion volume to Songs from the Black Moon.

“One does not read the Baroness’s poems, one inhales them – like air, like mist, like vapour.” Sarojini Naidu, author of The Bird of Time

“Every poem, as it nears perfection, achieves its own silence. If the poems in this book were any more precise, they would disappear entirely.”
Haruo Sato, author of Gloom in the Country

“What we dimly call the natural world is but a decaying and fecund hallucination creeping out of our very bodies. The poems in this book prove it. They are not even poems; they are taxonomies.”
Jean Lorrain, author of Memoirs of an Ether-Drinker

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NHSD @ goodreads

Annabella of Ely

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Annabella of Ely: Poems I-LXVII. Foreword by Liesl Ketum. ISBN-10: 0692709576. ISBN-13: 978-069270957338pp. gnOme, 2016. $7.00.

Long thought to have been inadvertently thrown on her funeral pyre, this recently discovered text tells the story of Annabella of Ely’s spiritual transformation. In a series of seventy-seven short, distinctive poems, Annabella describes the heights and deep abysses of her mystical journey, one marked by suffering, bliss, and most importantly, Love.

“Annabella of Ely is a miracle. She takes me aside from the multitude. She places her fingers in my ears. She spits and touches my tongue. She looks up to heaven and sighs. She says, ‘be opened.’” – Nicola Masciandaro

“These endeared utterances invoke the poetic abyss of Hadewijch, of Mechthild of Magdeburg, of Lydwina of Schiedam, of a distant and necrophiliac mysticism stumbling higher and higher, ensuring the oblivion of its author.”
~ Rasu-Yong Tugen, Baroness de Tristeombre, author of Songs From The Black Moon

“While little is known of Annabella of Ely, the poetic fragments herein—documenting her physical decline and spiritual ascent—bear the same elements of marked religiosity, mysticism, histrionic behaviour, and annihilative bliss we find in hagiographical accounts of Lydwina of Schiedam. But in the absence of a comparative oeuvre (Lydwina wasn’t partial to poetic experiment), the verses themselves—both in their bewildering brevity and in the stylistic decisiveness with which they ‘chime’ out of a state of extreme anguish—evoke those of another figure, who, in the summer of 1944, was oscillating between convalescence and vigor: Georges Bataille. In Annabella’s feverous writing, in the visceral manner she maps her self-naughting, and in the poetic invectives that quite literally spew from her lips, we are reminded of that life lived at the limit of the impossible: ‘sickness the death of the world / I am the sickness / I am the death of the world.’” – Edia Connole

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AoE @ goodreads

The Walk of Absence

WA front smallErba. The Walk of Absence. gnOme, 2016. ISBN-13: 978-0692660454. ISBN-10: 0692660453. 50pp. $6.00.

The apocalypse has already occurred, and we missed it. God is not dead, as Nietzsche or Mahfouz claimed, but he has simply left, as Samuel Beckett shows us. Man now lingers out of inertia, suspended indefinitely in a kind of purgatory between an abandoned heaven and a lukewarm hell—as always, but with no intention of bringing the journey to an end. Is poetry possible in the aftermath of this anticlimactic apocalypse? How to raise the stakes when there is nothing to lose? Can we devise better and more reckless games, now that the director has abandoned the show and the theatre is burned down? Perhaps the post-apocalyptic human will prove even more resilient than his predecessor, precisely because he lacks the will to live or die. And so, many of these poems were written with those in mind whom we did not lose to war, but to indifference, those that were taken not by death, but by the tepid current of everyday life…

In this book of dark verse. Nostalgia, Loss, and Ruin decay in the sweet stink of Love . . . – E. Elias Merhige

“Precise in its effort to provide readers with nothing less than a grid reference map of nowhere, each (poetic) line pointing back to the work’s auto-poetics of absenteeism, this essential collection performs what the ground often does when kicked up by the desolate gusts of a beautiful, insouciant wind.” – Liesl Ketum, Humbert Divinity School

WoA @ goodreads

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Hemisphere Eleven

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N. Hemisphere Eleven. HWORDE, 2016. ISBN-10: 069263147X ISBN-13: 978-0692631478. 86 pp. $6.00

A discontinuous continuation of fallen, unfollowable imperatives, numbering one thousand three hundred and sixty-one.

“A nearly ecstatic exercise in inconsequentiality.” — Oliver Trundle, author of La Montgolfière

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 H11 @ goodreads