THE GENIUS OF CUT-UP POEMS--Peter Wortsman's WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND,THE LABORATORY OF TIME, DRIFTWOOD AT THE RIVER'S EDGE, BORROWED WORDS

Bamboo Dart Press consistently delivers the unexpected and brilliant in form and content. Of these delectable slender volumes by Peter Wortsman, the editors explain, "The poems are condensed and diverse, reflecting the mind of a poet and collage artist. Paintings, also created by the author, are interspersed among the poems." 

For the first time, these books are offered internationally. Sets of four or two are available."Bamboo Dart Press explains the latest book in the series.  What We Leave Behind, Peter Wortsman’s fourth book of cut-ups, he lets the words run wild, in some cases, as in French poet Guillaume Apollinaire’s Calligrames (1918), letting words break ranks and dance on the page; in other cases, coupling word and image; and finally, succumbing to the lure of the visual in collages in which words play a subordinate role or disappear altogether. If, as this book’s first poem maintains, “we know each other from what we leave behind,” Wortsman writes, “I will hope these cut-up words and images bestir a smile or two on the face of the reader and perhaps a knowing nod.”From Intro to The Laboratory of Time.  Still playing with Words An Impromptu Prologue. What else is a cutup poem after all, or any kind of a poem for that matter, but a wild flower sprouting out of the dirt?  

Driftwood at the River's EdgeCollecting the rubbish: 

Collecting the rubbish:

artifacts,

fierce things, 

things that seemed

beyond me, 

raw and timeless

still-lifes, land-

scapes -

let the

stuff

be 

itself,

                                                        give it room to breathe-

                                                                                enjoy

                                                                    ing it fot exactly what it

                                                                                 is;

                                                        there's something happening that we can't

                                                        control/

                    Foreword. Language is a limited resource. Contrary to the commonly held conviction, the reservoir of speech is forever on the verge of drying up, or worse, calcifying into cliche. Like a farmer rotating his crops, I periodically plough words back into the mulch of meaning.

                                                        Almost a Meditation

                                                    

                                                    On a wrinkled sheet of lined paper

                                                        my truest essence.

                                                        an assemblage of

                                                        wrestling

                                                        words.

  

 Note:  Imperfect as this old Blogger program may be, I have tried to give a sense of the world of these 4 books, which give us a feel of time and existence in word pictures of humor and flimsy substance.

Everything is substantial and fleeting. And if you understand the feel of words, you may love these books, as I do. 

Susan WK