Caleb Puckett

A Notification of Radiance

I felt a visionary lineage at work in the saltwater tones of those two poems you produced from five paintings like a starfish with a remote control in the desperate cigarette desert. In sum, your ekphrastic intensity became a sandy turnstile of anonymous umbrellas, chisels and drawn straws drumming shiny, red hot pants on a day trip.

I felt your diction drain like faux virgin snow into an empty shore and release a letterbox sunset where money and marriages swam together among poisonous trees in search of bells. In sum, your ekphrastic intensity became a showcase of wild mushrooms sprouting in the rumpled ribbons and dinner jackets of ancestral heat.

I felt a swing between your metaphorical textures like the inky lithographer who locates geological movements in the genealogy pedagogy at the patent office during a tryst with a diamond dealer in the library. In sum, your ekphrastic intensity became a brown afterimage of shampoo lather in the orangey gold dust of our friendship.

Three Propositions Concerning the Influence of Yvor Winters on Young Writers
I.             If Yvor’s primitivistic reprints of uptown morals must texture decadence to
                muster current literary immigrants in modern diaspora musics to appear in the big
                is it then those semiannual germs must give into a student revival Boop’s bop as
                Romantics hip checking Thanatos jazz bluebooks balled to truly is the are rated
                business of holiday movie stardom.

II.           If Yvor’s bell press swing warns well of Thanatos flavoring absinthe in
                Armstrong intense reprints then craft is an archaic clash of madness and dealing
                access is the business for commonly filmed abortion doll myths working-class to
                class work dissonance rendering boulder format affiliated scepter scripted wit it
                with a pink lampshade requiem.

III.          If Yvor’s illustrated cathartic lining-papers direct rosary poetry replicas to
                reprints then cursors are curses typecasted and an ampersand etcetera is twisted                 so that dead pool math is the figure to critical all it if when and only when
                Santa Claus stalks Santa Cruz Thanatos transgressions of Hoover with a windsock
                catalog torn at the heel command of Rover’s sit.

Caleb Puckett lives in Kansas. Two of his poems, "Combatants" and "Runoff", were recently published as illustrated chapbooks by Feral Press.

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