can boreal #6

8/8/2019 Can Boreal #6

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INTRODUCTION

This is the sixth issue ofCan Boreal,a pamphlet devoted

to Visual poetry, Concrete poetry, abstract draws,

Leerism, Experimental poetry, Asemic poetry, orthodox

poetry, altered texts, prose, collages and anything else

I might feel like enclosing in an unsuspected future.Can Boreal is an anagram of Barcelona, the city

where I live (survive). It means dog from the north.

Dog is anagram of God. There is no God, but plenty

of stray dogs. Or so is what I think.

Dogs are poec. Men are poec. Life, in general, is poec.

Tragically. Art is a way to kill me. A sort of prevenve

murder, if you want, as me will take its revenge upon us

and we will not leave this planet alive.

Poetry shows a desperate aachment to life. A love

for life. So, killing me while making poetry (or art in

general) is one of those things rather diffi cult to explain

in a raonal way. From a distance, it might appear to

be like the howling of the wolves to the full moon. One

could say: Stop howling and enjoy life! But, I guess it is

not that simple.This issue is a trident, trio, threesome (you name it)

with The Blaster, Darlene Altschul and myself.

For the eding of this issue, I counted on the invaluable

help of Darlene Altschul (USA).

I hope that every recipient of this issue will enjoy the

reading.

John Mountain

August 2009


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s editor, working with the arsc stuff provided by my

long me friend Al Ackerman (aka The Blaster) is always

a big pleasure. One needs to enjoy the art to be able to

deal with the infinite lile problems that show up when

making the edion of a zine and survive the process with

a smile on ones face. And, folks, let me assure you that I

keep smiling. Ackerman gave me total freedom to decideabout the layout of his art and about which precise

drawings and poems to enclose this me.

bout John Mountain, I have to say that, against all

odds, he behaved quite good, this me. So, aer a few

hundred e-mails (!), we reached an agreement about

what was going to be the layout of this issue #6 of an

Boreal.

I think I can speak for the three of us involved in this

project and state that these arsc collaboraons work

as a trigger for us to produce more (and more varied)

art-pieces suitable for the zine format.

I just hope that the recipients of this new issue of anBorealwill enjoy the arsc content and the way that

our three different arsc personalies managed to

get together under the same roof and cook something

decent.

Darlene Altschul (Chief Editor)

ugust 2009


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Blaster, Al Ackerman


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Blaster, Al Ackerman 1991


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Ngg The Frog God

One aernoon 1 was hanging around in the yellow

weedy space out behind the 7-Eleven when I found

a kind of sump hole in the ground. It seemed filled

with tapioca and I took my shoe off and unwrapped

the bandage and as I got my foot down into the oozing

wetness I wiggled my toes around and around and

eventually saw that it was a million frog eggs ready

to hatch and that they had all coalesced around

my foot, as though to kiss and love on the sores,

and that before long the newborn frogs would be

worshipping my foot like a god. Then I very carefully

began to hop on my other foot and was able to reach

the store and go inside without losing or dropping

off any of the heavy shining ball, and the man in the

green felt vest behind the register was trying to yell,

and nothing but a dry croaking that sounded like

Ngg---ngg--ngg-- was coming out of his throat.



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HOW DID THIS GET WRITTEN?

Simple. Gaso

makes you swell up like clouds and

he space between What does

o become golden mean (contorted

have never felt my veins contorted with ropes of

birds Except that one me

nd because immense des went through everything

o shake a hand makes me think of black coal

o shake a hand and be le with coal And later a fever

s from horrible gonic hot pockets

rom absentmindedly eang the coal. Have

we got me to watch such things become

golden

once more? Have you got a crusty one

hanging in yr shorts? Oh, I know

I belong to a horrible Organizaon!

But I will tell you this much

join me in a bite of coal and what happens next

will be a rather keen surprise say

the light bulb fire has kept us up for years


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dicknickered in corn salad to be spat

dont spread

and because we go on absentmindedly

eang the coal its beer not to shake a hand

but if lactose floods you more than

gaso knocking talking inside your face

he best thing to do is shoot all the maple leaves

(from jmb of 5/2/07 and many others)



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THE WIGGLER

The lady whos full of Satan talk

was on the bus today. Again, she drove

several people to get off before

their stop

with her talk of loony Satanic

conspiracies

that control what her Satanic TVset

tells her. Its no lie to say we have

a lot in common, so I wish Id

had time to tell her to relax, that

when youre in hell its best to

just

kick back and go with it, like a

bad acid trip.

Like a bad trip of whatever ilk and kidney you chance to

ind

yourself on, let it be said, for that matter, and also tell

her that

one should never forget that in The Prodi al Son.

a symbolist painting by Pierre Puvis De Chavannes, the

igure

seated on the ground in beard and disordered loin cloth

appears to be clutching something to his chest

with all the fervor of a squirrel-worshipperclutching some very valuable old nuts,

but its probably only a dottle of leaves, too crumpled,

oo


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dog-messed to be bandied about in public, and thatMagic Hat, which the folks up in Burl ington, Vt., brew

is an Ale inspired by the doctrine of medieval chemists

and goes great with a 7-meat-pizza, and that

he ravening wolverine is an animal full of surprises,

especially when it hides in wait behind your shower

curtain,

swelling with a glowering intent to lunge out gnashing

its razory

incisors and dean your plow, its agenda always to glean

indiscriminately, which gives it a certain rare appeal,

you just have to know how to look at these things, hence

the streets

of Little Rock are more beautiful than the canals of

Venice,

and I dont know what all. I dont know what

all, among other things,

I wish Id had the t ime to tell her, but I

didnt, and besides she was

too busy talking Satan to do much

listening, so in the end I just got down

n the aisle and started wiggling toward her.

-Blaster Al Ackerman


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Man I really sucked the wine down tonight.


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Jack Ruby in Disguise - by The Blaster 1994


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YOU DRIVE FAR

Too erracally, Stevie King, they said.

But I just told them: Ha! heads nosing weedsill on the halt the rising hammer heads

owards our desire of meat the

hand

needs Man needs drink canned balls shine hand

molds to fudge


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If you believe thats how its gonna be. I beer put your down.I huffed as Steve The Bee-Man Steele began to beat his arms up

and down!



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MOVING FROM THE ACORN TO MY PATIENTS

But first let me say that when I say acorn

I mean I simply hold an almond to my forehead

And direct all my frustraon and irritability against it

Unl the manifestaon of my will

Becomes as apparent to it as it may already be

To others seeking refuge from my will.

One of the builders of A ollo

Once told me that hed known all the astronautsBefore they went to the moon

And that when they returned, without excepon,

Their heads were different, their heads glowed so brightly

You could scarcely see the swizzle scks between their teeth.

Ive noced something else, concerning Olympic

Sex. It, in effect, kills us a lile

Bit each me we indulge in itWith one Harry Pellegrino, 78, a paent of mine,

Who kept building a city of sand and became so engrossed

All the pain and redness seemed to leave him.

For one aernoon there was no trace

Of illness, though the sand eventually

Crushed his head. Before we examine specific

Ways to use this sand and deludeOurselves by saying, Other legumes,

Other legumes, give me your hand.

When you give me your hand, you will noce

That what I put into it looks like plasc

But stretches like rubber; moreover,

You will see that the greatest opportunity of your whole sick

Life is now before you, since this thing comes from my nose.Give me your hand and let us begin our journey.



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THE PORTAL (III)

Many a bastard regards my back porch as the hissing place,As if some lung ox balling the throat I share with mustard in yr

shoe. Here I am odd as empty sevens, Having rug an shore in

place of burning fences Norpt of cheer.

I boo the trest of

horses smoking.

I cheer the

rest of horses

smoking. Come

o think of it,

gunts druhead

Lets have a fit,

lets club bints.

Saggy but full.

What about a fit goes numb in the dingo club?

As before the clant so aer shant.

The rand cork

Chaining sea wage sneering-

Science, which reminds me of a proper drooling soldie-uh,

soldier The bio peed back, down us all the dead ton quek

Drops on top of guts tv the dead ton

Shouldering a slat-humping clown

A dog phones its face im pailed an spiy

A dug phone its face im pailed an spiy.

(from JMB of 7/11, 9/5. 7/18, 6/13 etc)

Al Ackerman 2003


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Darlene Altschul 2009


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THAT OWL NAMED SALLY OVER THERE

The wisdom of an owl named Sally

Yr whole leg uered like a drunk

spent hopping toward the skeleton

of an immense grasshopper

That found a home up yr nose

once when yo did a lot of screaming

in the alley.

he Blaster , Al Ackerman


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OWLS

Prepare yourself for your master the wise old owl

of empty leg bags.

Who stared at gag buns window more than the owl

who burns the bush in yr intesne?

Your big brown eye opens so as to picture to your-

self a cricket in yr cricket bins and you may also

picture to yourself a great white owl that asks how

will the harnd be shovel? how will the manner

wash my leg?

Nothing can match the darkness given off by the

great horned owl in your shorts.

Drop the sawed off foot if you would hang bread

fog, the great white owl said, think about how they

do it on VEnus and aer foaming send yr toilet up.

The Blaster , Al Ackerman


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Darlene Altschul text by The Blaster


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WHAT THE OWL TEACHES

I later learned that your long

grease smeared owls

berserk, whiffi ng guers on the roof

the whiff of what tuers at me

lis the melng screenss pointy thing

the flickered knots behind your neck

peremptory as a strangled hold

your hand seeks on the drool doorll grabbing that yr grinning talks

as some phone ringing up the soggy sock

and asks to speak to something

waddling in the basement that gets

top buzzing in your ear, like what

we have learned about your throat condion

Ackerman & Benne


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THE INVISIBLE OWL

It has to be seeking a way out of this ant locker

The way as I hog the single baery runs yr mouth

All the way to shoe toilet

coughing or did it swallow corn the inky greens

it has to be holding up a stopwatch

between some tomb and some fingerps

it has to be like some daughter flustered

by yr bombers in the pot

O this breaddoll dancer behind yr yellow curtains

It has to be part of my head, shaking & perfuming

the air like a few of the many frangrances of pear

Ackerman & Benne


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About the Uerly Preposterous Landscapes

The pictorial landscape was born, conceptually,

in the second half of the XVth century, but those

were sll landscapes with human figures. Earlier

to that me, a landscape was only the unavoidable

background for the human figure. It had no meaning

in itself. Brueghel The Old promoted the profane

scenes of daily labor, but those were scenes wherethe human being was the main character and the

necessary character. Rembrandt, Van de Velde

and Ruisdael were the first landscape painters

that used oil-painng, a technique which provided

more realism to the images. The Romancism

used the realism to express the emoon produced

by nature upon the viewer. Hence, nature wasnot anymore the anthropocentric cosmos of the

Chrisan tradion, but a chaos in which we humans

were submerged. The representaon of nature in

itself, not as scenography for a human or divine

character, meant a new look to reality. So, first we

had a shi from the sacred scenes (of the Divine) to

the profane scenes of daily life. But, later, we hadan ever larger change of mentality towards nature:

The arst turned his eyes to the trees, the rocks, the

rivers, the mountains and gave them the absolute

leading part. It is in Ruisdaels painngs where

nature stands by itself. That fact did not happen unl

the XVII century.

Maybe we are now in 2009, as we resume the

first decade of the XXI century, into a new wave


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of Romancism. Nowadays, the raonalism, the

industrial progress, the modern technology, and

where these things are taking us -individually &

socially- are being quesoned more than ever

before. No maer we might feel we are totally

environmentalists, a remake of the Romanc

landscape would result to us, to the eyes of the

man of today, as completely incongruous. Mainly

because nature has disappeared from the reallandscape and has been restricted into certain

scenographies.

The chaos of nature (the wilderness from the

Romancs) is now equivalent to the absurd arrange

of the general reality produced by the scienfic

progress. And the true landscape is a rubbish dump.

Nature has been confined into a few theme parks.Modernity is an apparent order which goal gets more

and more blurred, undetermined. The supposed

prosperity provided by technology becomes

increasingly expensive and destroys nature with a

speed that results obscene to the naked eye. In this

scenario, the true landscapes that confront our sight

are those of the ficon books by J.G.Ballard: Derelictbuildings, abandoned arfacts, rusted carcasses

of vehicles sophiscated ruins placed in polluted

& naked pieces of land. Nature has become an

exclusive commodity for hire into the Naonal Parks.

They have become theme parks of what was real

nature before the industrial revoluon. We pay the

cket and we get exposed to a Planet Earth withouthuman garbage. Aer we exit, the cruel reality hits

us in the face again: Publicity billboards everywhere,


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rubble, paved roads and dust.

Yes, possibly I am way too much influenced by the

dystopia presented by J.G. Ballard in his prophecal

books.

Equally to Ballards creaons, these Uerly

Preposterous Landscapes have quite a lot from

the atmosphere of Surrealism. They show the

consequences of the failure of the system to do

things right, to produce a general prosperity withoutgenerang a broad destrucon. What has been

achieved along the last decades is prosperity only

for an elite and large polluon for the rest. But, the

worse is to realize that, not even for that elite, the

prevailing of the human species and the prevailing

of the resources of the planet are assured. There is

the general feeling that the financial interests of thebig corporaons and the big magnates will keep on

ruling aer their selfishness and that the policians

will not work for the best (the survival) of a tamed,

quiet and alienated majority, or for the best of an

over-exploited planet.

Just taking a few steps behind (to reach a certain

amount of perspecve) will allow anyone to lookat his daily dynamics of work, leisure, goals and

generic purpose in life as totally short-term.

Yes, it is way too easy to say that something is not

working rightly and never propose any alternaves.

We are so busy in surviving on a daily basis and

playing by the rules (that were established too long

ago) that we have no extra energy to think and tryto find a soluon. Maybe there is no soluon and we

need, as a species, to hit the boom.


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Movies like Mad Max (1979) and Silent Running

(1972) have become prophecal.

Vast extensions of rubble without birds or trees, just

like Europes landscape aer the First World War,

seem unavoidable in the next future. This is the kind

of landscape someone keeps building in these

current years in Gaza, in Lebanon and in Iraq.

These are the mes when Norman Foster accepts

to build a replica of the Brish Museum in Dubai.Well, it seems that Dubai is desned to become the

theme park replica of the western cies aer an

unavoidable mayhem will turn them into rubble,

deserts or swamps. Or, perhaps it will be Dubai

what will become a ghost city in ruins first. Who

knows? Is Dubai compeng with Las Vegas or it is

just my imaginaon? Yes, I know it is supposed to becompeng with London, Tokyo and New York.

Well, I digress. I just try to jusfy why I made this

series of Surreal landscapes, some with Surreal

characters in them. Catastrophic, Surreal, Dadaisc,

Ballardian poecally absurd? Possibly they are a

reflex of my inner landscape. Or, as Ballard would

say, of my inner space.

John Mountain

July 2009


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NDEX

Introducon ..................................................page 1

The Blaster:

When Ruffi ans Gather ............................................ 3

Are You Drunk? ....................................................... 4

Ngg The Frog God .................................................. 5

How Did This Get Wrien ...................................... 7

The Wiggler .......................................................... 10Jack Ruby in Diguise ..............................................14

Prey Hat Club ......................................................15

You Drive Far .........................................................16

Moving From the Acorn to my Paents ................19

The Portal ............................................................. 25

DKA Owls with Blaster Text .................................. 26- 34

John Mountain Poems:

Grinned to Himself ............................................... 37

Amber ................................................................... 38

Epidural ................................................................. 39

Further Subtle ....................................................... 40

Crave ..................................................................... 41

DKA & JoMo Drawings of Women ......................... 42-67

John Mountain Uerly Preposterous Landscapes:

About UPL ............................................................. 68-71

Uerly Preposterous Landscapes 1-12 ................. 72-83

Index ..................................................................... 84

Credits ................................................................... 85


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ll images & texts Al Ackerman, Darlene Altschul &

John Mountain

PDF edion by Darlene Altschul 2009


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can boreal #6

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