Quantity over Quality

Wilcke: Quantity over Quality 1

Quantity over Quality:

Poems for National Poetry Month 2013

jonathOn Wilcke Papertrail Press Vancouver, B.C.


April 1st Fools’ Poem i’m becoming a bastard because i could use the money. used to be things were differently the same in multiple iterations; why are things not as differently what once they used to be what abstraction runs the show is the “it” a “who” or a “them” or is it “they” is the them-‐they up or out there are we a “we” or a one of me below looking up at the underside of power at the bastards as a bastard or messiah; becoming a bastardy messiah because i could use the money.


Poem for April 2nd: Statement of Awareness. I am aware. You better fucking believe it. For example: I am aware of push-‐ups. I am aware—and know—the benefits of push-‐ups. I have even performed one or two push-‐ups which I found quite difficult. “Wilckes are not good at push-‐ups” my father says. “Likewise we find chin-‐ups very difficult.” I am aware of prostate cancer’s moustache I am aware of poetry and I am also aware of National Poetry Month. National Poetry Month helps me know which poetries are compatible with the National Culture Architectural Scheme.


Poem for April 3rd: Missing the People the people never had any poetry. the people were had by the poetry. when it comes to a paycheck would you rather be a body or a mind. face it: when it comes to a paycheck you would rather be a bored body with a paid mind. poetry would rather come at the expense of your leisure than your paycheck. face it: if poetry’s high up on your biological hierarchy of needs, take the biology to a medical professional. take time away from meatlife and gaze into the narrow focus of the lens frame a photo of a meatshop on hastings w/out the filth the mind is a tourist, the body air canada. mind is meat; let’s have beef mind is beef, let’s have a beef-‐made-‐flesh kind of morning.


Poem for April 4th: Sonnets for Television the people cry out for sonnets because that’s what’s on television. the people cry out for sonnets but don’t care for scansion people are overdetermined but forms prefer content: the people are not the. for a day-‐off from symbolic life forget ethics and just go kill something (dinner minus taxidermy) for a guilt-‐free day-‐off from symbolic life with a souvenir ask the taxidermist to provide dinner. “we’re working on a bomb that could destroy a whole planet, and you’re quibbling over semantics?” it’s a great theory but will it prevent the president from tossing his girls’ conscription letters into the trash a good god would not allow us to be systematically deceived about the most basic and self-‐evident truths. basic and self-‐evident truths really do require illustration to help us get the picture [sic]. a good god would celebrate diversity in order to protect his ass. basically: the people.


Poem for April 5th what is the framework for a positive poetry instead of a positivist poetry that reads aloud the negative structures we inhabit. what kinds of poems do the wealthy write. do the wealthy make time to study prosody in the same way that upper class musicians become concert pianists. poetry is average. it’s rather belief in poetry that requires a bit of work on the national scheme.


Poem for April 6th what is the framework for a positive poetry that doesn’t rewax and relax into the dope of tropes that keep thought on the level, on the straight and level, on the even plain, in the realm of plain speech that actually believes that plain speech exists but there already the poem takes a turn towards spitting snakes. there’s a nasty combination of words around every corner at every turn of good abilities necessary for estimating likely outcomes in general and the broadest sense or what shade of green flags the off-‐gassing.


Poem for April 7th Or is it that a positivist poetry is instead based on quantitative lore rather than the eye’s sight. for example, wilcke would be willfully dumb enough to see the world as flat since he doesn’t sail or participate in space travel. he has less sense than the bird in the sky. there’s a lot that the bird don’t know but life is happening to it anyway outside of the possibility that the bird doesn’t fly off the edge of the earth and otherwise doesn’t worry about geometry.


Poem for April 8th a composition a significant recording or other publication a distinguishable personality with a reputation and a stack of photographs an impressive bio or pedigree these are attempts to avoid the problem of death by making that which moth shall eat or child will scratch beyond playability or recognition as a thing outside of death such as a signed celebrity photograph hanging on an out of the way but famous pub wall or the wall of black and whites on the wall above the staircase at Pages


Poem for April 9th the inset doorway off the alleyway protected by the piss-‐moat daily renewed by the party people on Granville street and the homeless people trolling the beat-‐up green dumpsters the digital photos of Greg’s house before-‐and-‐after the razing of the trashed green house and the construction of the special royal blue one the photo of Peter Kwan working in his front yard Peter Kwan since deceased but lurking in street view the photo, says dead Barthes, says textual Barthes, the man-‐made-‐text as the means to preserve oneself after death as a visual crumb of lore.


Poem for April 10th the level of the person here illustrated by a row of stickmen of varying heights but otherwise indistinguishable who tell each other things they know or have seen and have seen and translated into knowing bereft of any theories or inventive of their own theories about what they saw and then above perhaps unfairly indicated by being above but could also be off to the side or even below the language of thought generalizing in specific ways that tells the stickmen. things that are. knowledged and/or rejected.


Poem for April 11th munitions urbanism dry dock soy altitude liverwurst talcum culvert rudimentary theory yoikcs seawall tonnage allegory limp sandlot removal accident cyst killjoy surveillance world historical aftermath tableau eau river


Poem for April 12th these poems aren’t good enough or much good at anything for any reason the new pills make things stranger i’ll take the $60/hour and would prefer to receive it once an hour for 7 hours/day with an hour break after the first 3.5 hours the pills don’t prevent the need to break wind during the reading


Poem for April 13th some of these poems are not good enough to survive peer evaluation these uses of language don’t stand up to others’ uses of language now or after this author kicks off to leave behind books published on recycled paper chosen over acid free paper because the designer “likes trees” some of these poems are ineffably well written with care at all stages of the writing process and as poems are quite functional and look and smell like good poetry should but as poems are still not good enough not up to standards that contribute to community a community slavering and drooling over limited national resources busted down to the people in the form of grants these poems won’t earn grants and must therefore be part of a complex of quiet self-‐satisfaction in the act of writing; “You have to mind your own game” the author’s father says you have to mind your own poems’ value.


Poem for April 14th: SLAM POEM it is reasonable to think that when one is alone others are listening and others like what they hear therefore I-‐I-‐I-‐I seek the maximum conditions of readily absorbable me available to me I-‐I-‐I-‐I have to pee now now, I-‐I-‐I-‐I am peeing how brutal to see the personal brutally since even the best lover takes a shit and moans in pleasure or pain and it’s reasonable that the neighbours hear things hearing as someone else’s snot on your lip -‐wipe it off-‐ brutal


ego notes: -‐got bullied as a kid -‐i have a body -‐bodies are created from the folding and unfolding of ash -‐in the beginning was The Dance -‐in the beginning was the Cosmic Scheme of Odors -‐your skin stirs my blood -‐your soul the bull my ear the china shop -‐i’m dancing in clover, a clover field of four leaves -‐yeah -‐etc. superego notes: -‐do i dare doubt that the planet is round despite the resounding consensus of human knowledge -‐things are wrong, the world is wrong, the world is on this planet -‐i’m not sure i fit in here, maybe no one fits in, maybe fitting in is a function of one’s personal narrative lining up with others’ concomitant personal narratives -‐the man -‐the woman -‐etc. id notes: -‐QRST QRST QRST fuck! fuck it! fuck you! uija;kd klkjadf++ llkkljasf ”; lkjajjd lklk nm yeah no i like this no i don’t what is wrong here qrst QRST


Poem for April 15th machinic mall culture vehicular jesus passersby spine clinic retrieval old discourse physio therapy exercise stuff pyschic physics bb cream economical suit of clothes saying vs. spraying splaying vs. splicing slag pile cultural landmark add acid add hazard ordinarily


Poem for April 16th much any good poems written in contemporary moments presently at the white head of history which must pop repeatedly over and over obliged language centered? crisis in meaning? rhyming couplets? haiku patterns of 5-‐7-‐5 mora transmuted through culture to the target language’s syllable mounted in letters instead of ideograms? waiting to write about dragons? dragons on Wellbutrin the magic Effexor Paxil of material desire? fear of highways 1 and 22 head down while traversing the prairies? if you access that part that language part then you see yourself as a nexus of language not just one person using language but a person written and overwritten hooked up writing and overwritten variably invariable and subjective in addition to just being a regular citizen-‐sibling-‐relative-‐employee-‐asshole


Poem for April 17th “some of us swipe in and swipe out for two half hour breaks” -‐Femke van Delft -‐swipe in-‐ writing these poems no matter how bad or how unpublishable keeps these hands active and unable to contribute to capital and unable to contribute to feeding the motor that takes in the energy needed to write the poems which is a statement of fact since i am getting relatively nothing done except wasting ink with this ink wasting toy and earning no money while working from home and this is also a statement of belief a raison d’êcrire -‐swipe out-‐ (i like poetry i don’t like the social structures around poetry i don’t trust the liberal values that seem inherent to being a poet in a community not because of the values themselves but because of their inherence) -‐swipe in-‐ “just playing this music is enough. it’s enough” evan said. we were talking about political action around playing the saxophone. i wanted to know if playing this music necessitated a kind of parallel social action in and of itself. “playing the saxophone is enough” since-‐i add-‐ “this music is unsellable to mass audience available only to the devoted and genuinely interested and the reward of the music is the music itself the learning of the instrument and the making of community,” jack said, more or less.


-‐swipe out-‐ (“writing is community” fred said. and then we went to the bar. and then we worked on a magazine together followed by more trips to the bar. and we relied on others for publication.) -‐swipe in-‐


Poem for April 18th Empty city, full city, city that soothes the fantastic for the most part pain of the senses sits sweltering toy of levelling wind disposable neighbourhoods: maximal profits prophesy over who what will be our new neighbours for the most part: pain of the senses; think of a wad of wet spinach rolled into a bamboo mat


Poem for April 19th one

Poem for April 20th two Poem for April 21st skip Poem for April 22nd a few poem-‐holes left open for a posteriori collecting of prosterioriori poems into a bound paper volume that’s a bit reserved and theoretically at the point of collapse and try to keep going into the gutter and margin knocked up by a priori three staples and if he isn’t in the room and you’re experiencing him in your body then that’s not normal, and you have to make it up for yourself and send it into the world, at which time you study and prepare to run for office


Poem for April 23rd oyster-‐world’s worth of pearly cigarette butts ipads for mom negotiate lot exit crowds for convenient throughway nowadays info on everyone’s mouthpiece online nowadays bleeds out its “a” nowdays quality over quantity lipservice scheme initiated by professional quantity over quality guy scientistic graph yields true knowledge about advancements in human culture contributions dickheads’ docksides continue swelling via “gay science” participation that unity of singer, knight, and free spirit distinguishes wonderful early culture from equivocal cultures’ current crap the now of being youth supervised by aging marketers and their banks legendary and fresh, classic and new


Poem for April 24th suburban: sub urban basement living in woodbine: sub sub urban i don’t: have much philosophical real estate prepared for the after life sub: with regular exposure under: reductionist holedigging


Poem for April 25th “…and don’t give up because at last we will succeed after the hardship of writing poems” -‐ accidental inspirational saying from a student exam mined out of academic industrial holdings by Ryan Fitzpatrick and don’t give up because at last we will succeed after the hardship of writing poems and don’t give up because at last the diet will succeed after the hardship of reading all those texts obsessively while being sedentary and don’t give up on day 18 with 12 days left to go because at last we will succeed with quantity over quality after the hardship of writing poems and don’t give up although one’s criticisms of jian gnomeshi [sic] go misunderstood and poorly cited because at last the links will expire and anyone with the gumption to follow through will check references and don’t give up because at last middlebrow culture will be as captivating as it is currently lucrative and boring and don’t give up because at last even the worst player gets a hole-‐in-‐one and don’t give up because-‐with any luck-‐at last the sins of the father will be covered by credit card balance insurance and don’t give up because at last we will receive justice for the trolling on our youtube page’s comments and don’t give up because at last the first stanza can begin with “I” and move into blind assumptions about shared knowledge as a limitation of I-‐ness and don’t give up because poetry is at last a bad way to express individuality being that it uses all those words and don’t give up because at last getting a screwed up facelift Bold and the Beautiful style is a better way to express one’s individuality given that everyone has a face but fewer people have a codpiece stuffed into their chins than they have words


Poem in the Key of “I” i hate poems that begin with “i” i endeavor to write poems in the key of “canada” for the nation oh if tomorrow starts without me i will have failed to call the art therapy hotline i will have succumbed to the flaring gas well of the gut while dialing the number shall i fail to call it i will have ate and painted painted eating and will have used art to achieve my employment goals because it’s not like i’m making any money with poems beginning with “i” and will have exercised my right to visual art the right to smile while standing next to a tree leastwise or lastwise this national poet has a birthday oh


Poem for April 26th In Oprah we trust or: in Oprah we trusted; according to the Book of Oprah for 20 years did she address and contact the people in person before returning to the heavens rarely interacting with the people except in visions or through signs, and sometimes leaving clues in the fragments of shattered tablets, bleeding icons, stinking shreds of old clothing pulverized by age down to the very fibers, down to the weft. now we must believe that once she walked among us as surely as chairs have legs now we must have faith as surely as chairs have spaces beneath them. either data works or it doesn’t since all information is created not altogether equally and the one true mission is to pass out the five essential nutrients and set forth a fine example for living for the self and others through careful censorship of that which appears outside of the reading list.


Poem for April 27th Poetry begins with disappointment. The banality of happiness has a limited vocabulary and is never an isolated experience. Also, feeling happy while others are miserable should induce guilt, therefore: feel bad. Feel bad with a smile. Happiness exists in dialectic with other states of being. States of being are comparative and temporary at best. At worst: they can be medicated and made into better.


Poem for April 28th Expression is a disappointment. Expression is disappointment. What to express is a question of what is available for the vocabulary of expression to inhabit, to erase, to wash over, and the question of “what” is a question of sorting out categories. Vocabularies and sign systems oriented around verbal expression of a singular state are banal in their isolation of states since categorization requires limitation, which is banal and inaccurate according to the hard reality of states of being which tend to be complex. Invite your friends over to view your newly renovated bathroom, in other words. A bathroom in the broad sense of experience is banal. Rather it is the cult of the beautiful home, the general aspiration to material expressions of wealth and the aesthetic of the beautiful settled life that are easily prepackaged and purchasable. Having friends over to see your bathroom. Having friends for the purpose of showing off your bathroom. Having a bathroom for the purpose of having friends.


Poem for April 29th Poetry begins with disappointment. Authentic experience demands that your friends take turns exploring the bathroom’s functionality in front of each other, drinks in hand. The desire to express happiness is the desire to isolate happiness from all other states of being which obviously occur and occur obviously and are troubling in general towards working towards a banal, impossible positivity. Poetry begins with isolation. To poetry is to isolate language from other states of being and from other modes of expression. And to sit, reading. Let it be resolved that expression is about bringing the insides out into view of others interested in expression either as a producer or receiver, as someone viewing or using the bathroom, or viewing the bathroom while using the bathroom, or using the bathroom as an excuse to view the bathroom, or viewing the bathroom as the excuse to use the bathroom. To use poetry involves isolating language from the body and its experience of feeling and also to isolate writing from a synchronicity of seeing, hearing, touch and smell, smiling, laughing, orgasm, leaking water.


Poem for April 30th Interview with the Author concerning “Quantity over Quality: Poems for National Poetry Month,” April 2013 Yes—thankyouforhavingme— at first this author was quite nervous about the task—no, rather: the job— the responsibility—the social responsibility— of writing 30 poems one each day, 30 days in a row wilcke: this is a nervewracking prospect for someone who is slow of poetry but whose blood sugar is 6.5 upon waking and needing to lose some weight— There i went—this author— concerned not to be one of those “drank-‐a-‐cup-‐of-‐coffee-‐wrote-‐a-‐poem-‐about-‐it” kind of poet (they know who they are with the coffee and all)


Concerned not to be one of those “i’m-‐going-‐to-‐publish-‐these-‐national-‐ poetry-‐month-‐poems-‐ at-‐the-‐end-‐of-‐the-‐month-‐as-‐an-‐interactive -‐poetry-‐month-‐calendar” poets” in order to mend my association with Sherri-‐D Wilson and therealbabyocelot who commented so negatively on my youtube video of me reading in Vancouver in 2010 (see poem #3 and poem #25 along with http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjneAKULJrk) The poetry so laughably arrogant so like not unlike Jian Ghomesi and his tendency to force interviewees to give the answer Jian wants to hear by asking the same question on repeat, pounding the interviewee over and over, never satisfied


wilcke: i was compelled to watch Showgirls twice to find something as laughable as my own poetry and was surprised to see the 1980’s bodies with their hips, tits, and thighs in a 1990’s film Ultimately, though, i focused on quantity over quality writing en mass as the goal-‐end-‐product and drank a cup of coffee—wrote a poem about it (see poem 12) Thank you—until next year—look for the upcoming chapbook by the way

Quantity over Quality

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