This curious poem/document was sent to the CEO and is certainly worth our publishing. It was created by one D Seth Horton. He explains its nature below (slightly paraphrased).

“Here are a series image-texts that are all centered on the U.S.-México border, which can be related to your recent interest in Carlos Castaneda given that his work was situated in the borderlands.

The text is sourced from various U.S. Customs and Border Patrol documents.  In terms of composition, I deleted most of the original material until I was left with the poem that had previously been hidden within the bureaucratese.  To be clear, I added no words, punctuation, or capital letters to the body of these poems, nor did I change the original word order in any way.  Instead, I simply erased what was in the way and then moved the words that remained into appropriate line breaks. 

Other than my drawing, the images all come from the National Archives.

In case readers are interested in comparing “my” texts against the original source material, I have included notes at the end of my submission with all the necessary details.”

Biography

 D. Seth Horton’s work has appeared in more than forty publications, including the Michigan Quarterly Review and Glimmer Train. Two of his stories have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. His latest book is a forthcoming collection of stories set throughout the U.S.-Mexico borderlands entitled, On a NASA Flight to Heaven (TCU Press, 2024). He currently teaches creative writing and American literature at the University of Virginia. 

 Physician! Heal Thyself!   By Jim Meirose

                                                          

Two worked the lab conkulating the document trove brought back from the Doc-doctor M-m-m-m-oon’s desk—the late doctor, that is. The mission being frying his madcap t’ween all his patients, the very Lon Carpre.

That Lon Carpre?

Yas uv course, Yas that one.

Huh.

Huh’s right but let us get going mein leben; Document ten of some few less than too many fragments catalogued, date time name date and place—gones goes went thusly it seems which nothing is as; archery; so ‘t’s how his headtop pancaked down flat. Coming to after that he failed to speak. Unless spoken to. Which was seldom since he—he was in essence, a mostly uninteresting person. Sort of like before the trauma but different. Deeper. Deep. There is quiet. Then deep quiet, then—deeper quiet. There is no deepest; it can always get deeper. His no yes so to be but—that’s not how they raised him. At least they thought they didn’t. They wanted the best for him. They wanted him to—I mean, really. It really must be said? Aw crack fizzle, no. Too obvious. Much too so, so. After all how many get chosen for praise by the head priest? Being close to God he must smell some truth. He must be able to smell one smell apart from the others. What these mean. And why these were put there. Don’t waste. Do not waste. Push pull and push pull and it will begin to open and he saw it there. On that wall off sides from that kitchen sink and drainboard unit cast together in one piece. They don’t make factories can do that any more. Where would you even get such a thing? Is always the question. You are good at this, Lon, so do it—and likewise very good at that—how ‘bout that too? And faithful be, too. Be too here is your purpose its lights out.

Yes.

Lights out. Why’s this been done. Is this another test—got to see the way—for lack of what the right thing to do is don’t sit don’t just sit do—this. This will do as a right thing for now. See the dark ahead cracking? Bright slivers there now here uh gone from there and here but—through that ahead space there’re bound to be more. Butt through. But through there he—or what? Maybe look harder. Look harder. But through there he sits. It is a he, right—a he with a yellow pad knee up and writing. As I—I am talking no. Shut up ‘cause wrong things behind are always straining to be said. By Peter! Wrong things behind are always straining to be said. So nothing, say nothing, be nothing, don’t be. Hot gravy, wow! I have burnt my hand Mom I have burnt my hand ah—her touch. Across here’s the store Lon. Across here. Here’s the store. We’re here. We’re here. We can get what we want in here. So come on—fully sat before this—I might yes be a man see? Fully sat now once in the store might yes this be a man, see? Where is she though who led me in. She’s off someplace buying. That is why she came. She came to buy. Top buy. Why come with someone when they’re just going here to buy so what brings you here to me Lon? What brings you here to me. Being led here’s the answer. Being led from back when no; no not back it has been too hard this first time don’t want to do it again so answer the man, Well Lon, that was a question. That how you were raised Lon? That how you were raised?

No.

I don’t know really. Why I am here now.

Good, that’s all right. You are here to find out. Here to find-out.

‘kay.

I’m told you fear—something. That right Lon; ‘es no yes wow, Lon. I am was and always will be, Lon. He is right about that much. That much being right, that I am Lon, and that that in that right Lon could be anything at all—a variable word like an x y or z—he is right yes he’s right so—

Lon!

—oh yes sir, that’s right.

Now he ’d,  You don’t but a black patch diagonalled over him, damn them. Damn them. They say that these will fade, but still and all, damn them!

I’m sorry, say that again, please.

Black patch gooey round float up dip past him and only I could catch the end we are friends—yah he said it that’s good maybe yes certainly yes, that is good say That’s good.

I know, he said. But now—Lon what do you fear so much that’s why then black slab cut bottom to top you here. Can you tell me?

The question what’s the question all wrapped up black uhhhhh tell true the questions I don’t know it so the honest answer is—no. I can’t sir.

I said you don’t have to blob up rip the word gone.

Don’t have to what?

Call me sir! It would be nice Lon if you zzzz pai  zzzzzzztention.

I don’r know what you mean.

How many things can that mean Lon ?

But I don’t know what the that is, sir.

Off! Penciltap hard in the pad roll the eyes back but—to his credit he did, catch himself. Catch himself so. Even though it was rude, it—wasn’t that rude—and.

And and dna an nd – I ah oh u be and drop out.

Had to drop it out there. Too hard to concentrate. Too hard, Blast. Be the blast death of me not just but ‘nybody. Perchsn’ce.

And that is all for today.

Signed and dated by Dr. B. Moon all flowy enscripted after but only one slight flourish, then Good-Night. File this with the rest of the proof. File this with the rest of the evidence file this with. That we’ve filed this with. Plus there’s more to come.

How long before the whole document’s analyzed and findings available?

Probably through ‘ent the end of the year.

This year?

Look, turning.

Now. What kind of damned question is that?

Bad one?

Bad one.

The CEO finally launches its biggest project yet, with a whopping 500+ pages and experimental formatting, it presents our biggest step in making this a viable venue for more robust projects beyond the journal. This is volume I out of III, with volume II already finished as well. A multi-continental babe.

Interstitial Artelligence finds two writers circling around ideations of theory-fiction, poetry, the labyrinth, the semi-organic, and more. In the lineage of the tete-beche, both march towards the center of the book-object, crossing the thresholds of the paratext to find what is at the nodal point–the center of the zone–the bibliomantic fetish.

Featuring essays by Emanuel Magno, German Sierra, Patricia McCormack, Amy Ireland, and Mike Corrao. Artwork by Mia-Jane Harris, axolotl and Gabriel Magno.

Get your copy from here.

14 Stock Frequencies: Variations on the & Manifold explores the conceptual and practical affordances of a formal operator (expressed at the common ampersand “&”) in the context of pastoral usages of tavolette by Dominican confraternities in 15th century Renaissance Italy.

As Feinberg has noted, these instruments were principally applied as ‘contemplative aids for the condemned’. A tavoletta would be executed as part of a larger ritual ceremony ‘[entailing] extensive songs, prayers and consoling dialogue. Many parts of this ceremony evolved from much older, even ancient rituals conducted for those facing imminent death, the gravely ill as well as the criminal or the martyr.’(1) The ligature “&” effectuates a process of graphic autophagy. I retrofit the ligature with a token “a” to produce a phrase “(e)(a)(t)” where the retrofitted item precipitates the protocol it helps to name. Operationally, the ligature is clarified at the phantom retrofitted field upon which the tokens (e) and (t) would like to graze. These tokens, as the poet Maz Himyari has pointed out to me, might prepare placeholders for all manner of mixed/nominally opposed referents, and are reconciled via an alchemical coniunctio or centripetal traversal about the retrofitted terrain.

1 Larry J. Feinberg, “Imagination all compact: tavolette and confraternity rituals for the condemned in renaissance Italy”, Apollo, volume 161, May 2005, 48-57.

There are fourteen initial physical copies, the covers are designed by Mike Corrao and their mutations by Graham Freestone. Each one of these fourteen is supplemented with a unique copy of an original painting.

The PDF is available here

Questions and comments regarding the publication itself should be scribbled in cubicles, planted in the mud, spat in the hand, screamed into water, or directed toward calum.hazell.2017@live.rhul.ac.uk. Any enquiries concerning its sale should be directed to ceo47@outlook.com

 

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