324 Readings | 3 Ratings

What Kenneth Goldsmith Means to Me

Here we go!

April 11, 1954: Thrilled to be very much alive, listening to Matmos!

A young woman, created from internet errors made while correcting my sloppy reading, is not relinquishing the burden of waiting to be. Oh, sweet irony!


If you hate, I love that. The coercive power! What I seek: to accept this as poetry.


Does Knott have a new book? Really? I’m glad! 

(In the male pirate—part legit—was an American. This is insane, and its strength is an act.)


Poetry requires shallowness—Google it! (We’re not luddites!)

Dunno, were you born for exploring these tactics? 


Reset the existing Introduction to flarf: “The very creepiest are cheap and won’t save a shudder to think.”


I’m Kenneth, professionally. Ignorant? That’s frustrating! Disturbing to see! 

I needed to make it. And you thought I should know better! (“You’re an entire book, never looked at without permission! Bye!”)

Fast forward to the sensuality of my body—{kiss} {kiss}—its purest form dropped out of 2009. Too bad! We need more who act as sorry.

To that I’ll be talking—thank you, Daniel—in the November/December Utne Reader. See you then! 


“I wish you’d have beaten them!” 

“No need to! Writing is pointing.”


Does the color consist entirely of creativity?

Is a non-paywalled link—please!—literature-as-data?

Is just sitting deep and smart?

The thing about one approach—no?—it’s only kind of like life. We still have these 2.7 million drives. (Me too!)


Hello, kitty! 

Hope you’re well!

And thank you!

(And yes, it applies.)


I’m fascinated by yes, but why?

(Please post it! I have to imagine poetry, written, also loves poetry. The ultimate compliment—impressive and essential.)


In the incredible typo at 2AM—a giant one, funky but useful—why won’t poetry thank you? 

 (“It doesn’t exist.”) 


 “Oh, I went by their wealth?” 


It’s almost always easier not to do something wrong, as opposed to what I do. (Nah, you can! I’ll “send you” in every way, too. Get it?)

For criticism written by a guy’s favorite poet—“Whitmanberg,” that is—there’s barely anything. Why are you writing his feelings? Are memes ever the same stuff—stuff found on its own, on no life outside? Strikes me as one hundred forty (today, perhaps one hundred) artists and poets, writing. (There’s nothing sexier. Made my night!)

This month, naturally, there is ending, once again, a “nice way.” Curious, how in the old days I tried to be a human. My rewriting of a human poetry is not effortless. It is difficult. We fear we, if we can.

O’Reilly wrote that in language, poetry has suffered an end to—sorry, I’m talking!—the problem. Is love the idea? If it were, we need more of His excellent, beautiful, and thoughtful love to see.


Floating on the describing of the relationship—from memory—of all of us is the new radio show.

(I couldn’t be the only song revisiting Marjorie Perloff!)


The book is a cultural now-I-remember—a note on how we did. It is liberated.

An authorless literature is hardly passive. Start paying attention, people in tears!

Posted 11/19/13
Statement of Concept: The author took three contiguous words from every tweet (other than retweets or tweeted quotations) made by the poet Kenneth Goldsmith between September 1, 2013, and November 18, 2013, with the aim of selecting the three-word phrase from each eligible tweet that best approximated the sort of demotic, emotive language one might expect to hear during a face-to-face interaction between poets. Impersonal, obtuse, didactic, aphoristic, or allusive language--as subjectively adjudged by the author--was avoided when and where possible. Once these three-word phrases were retrieved, they were collaged to form as coherent and naturalistic a monologue as possible under the circumstances. Punctuation, parentheses, capitalization, typography, and (in just five instances) single words--specifically, "I," "of," "as," "a," and "the"--were added to maintain normative syntax and grammar.
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