1. ACROSS CLUE: "theanyspacewhatever" 2008

nancy spector: "an exhibition in ten parts"

"Paradigm shifts in art are not always decade specific. They can take place at any point in time, seemingly at random, but usually as a counterpoint to what happened before. Regardless of this fact, art movements tend to be thought of in ten-year sequences; Abstract Expressionism, for instance, belongs to the 1950s, and Pop art, the 1960s. Such classifications are often applied in retrospect since it is not always possible to comprehend fundamentally different stylistic and conceptual strategies until well after they first appear. Years can PASS before the implications of such RADICAL changes in art history and culture-at-large are absorbed, parsed, and ultimately defined." page the 13th.

from "Personism: A Manifesto" (FOH p.498):

"Everything is in the poems, but at the risk of sounding like the poor wealthy man's Allen Ginsberg I will write to you because I just heard that one of my fellow poets thinks that a poem of mine that can't be got at one reading is because I was confused too. Now, come on. I don't believe in god, so I don't have to make elaborately sounded structures. I hate Vachel Lindsay, always have; I don't even like rhythm, assonance, all that stuff. You just go on your nerve. If someone's chasing you down the street with a knife you just run, you don't turn around and shout, "Give it up! I was a track star for Mineola Prep."

*** I Am Not A Painter ***

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

**************************

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jasper_Johns

"In Memory of My Feelings"

8/8/82

_The Ringing Ear_:
Sharan Strange
"Night Work"
In the changeling air before morning
they are silhouettes. Dark ones
with the duskiness of predawn on them
and the shading of dust and sweat.
Busying themselves in buidlings,
on scaffolds, and on the black
washed pavements, they are phantoms
of the city--guardians of parking lots
and lobby desks, tollbooths, meters,
the all-nights and delivery trucks.
At bus stops they are sentinels
and the drivers. Launderers and cleaners
readying the offices and untidy houses
of privilege. Cooks heaping up meals
for the well fed, the disabled, or the indifferent.
Trash-takers, making room for more.
Nurses, eternally watching.

(page 21)