Sunday, May 31, 2009

Pussipo, manifesto's mary-festos

Pussipo is a high-octane collective of 160 women poets who view poetry as an act of skilled knife-throwing. As founder Anne Boyer notes, “Pussipo is SUPPOSED to wreck you.” Pussipo’s members hail from across the U.S. and Canada, and all over here

These manifesto-mary-festos were so good I had to quote them
"Friday, October 13, 2006

Once again men fight over her. The Colonel stands in a gray industrial landscape. A squad of soldiers is ever warm and fluffy, but pussipo is a form of aircraft graffiti, mainly embellished or extravagant in insignia, and also a new Greece or Rome.

Pussipo is cyclical in nature, so it's not surprising that just as women are often misperceived by the military gaze, pussipo is expected to act, look, and be strategic equipment. If the job of pussipo is to predict reality, it is getting easier and easier to produce and distribute her neon breath.

Pussipo is SUPPOSED to wreck you. She is only for a strong blue-point snowshoe siamese cat. Pussipo is valuable when used this way: a nemesis or free download.

What "real pussipo" is or is not is the misconception that pussipo is not everywhere: in a snatch dada or our favorite stolen astronaut. She is thieves they sue in fantasy stories. She is later the teachers who were the team leaders who knelt in a chair.

BUT there is a problem. It was really, really hard to choose, rooted in telling you with words and engaged in just this. And in some kind of “sting operation” by the pussipo squad we haven't bothered to schedule our weekend plans.

Far too often, the captains of rabidity have been suspicious, convinced that unless pussipo is about or related to men taking a few milligrams of Valium she is a "worldly call to the bomb squad,” or a "product that takes a lot of education, practice, and mastery far from the bridge.”

No, a guerilla pussipo squad forever unveils her full gallery. After all, pussipo is one of the most primal means she has left of expression. Pussipo is substantially the same, but also a cultural biography for the expected story.

Finally, I was stunned by the media frenzy instead of the fewest scruples. The general message indeed appears to be: “A work of pussi is the promise of vernacular homolinguistic transations of a single source poem."
Posted by odalisqued at 12:51 PM 1 comments


the blanket

off a line – the thing that breaks

in a conversation is the

icing. With a cool eye

feverishly toward.

Pussipo pushes it off

the cuff/thigh. What you say

to mean in the average

auditorium. Pussidom features

a laquered fail-

better. Pussipo done

so(me) good this time.

The gals/gulls/galls is

the sound you.


Rightright // Now

Posted by D at 11:22 AM 0 comments
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Pussipo Manifesto
The bombs of empire are hived into my charred cinderella.

My cinderella is cathected onto a larval mass & icing drips into the mouth of Sir Squeals-a-lot, the piggie who fingers the levers of letters to his own advantage.

Milk pours out of the presses into the eager jaws of Sir Squeals-a-lot, and someone filters out the stringy ovaries lest they stick in his false teeth.

Let us examine the origins of our radical disease.

Pussipo says, A press is a cunt is a squeezebox full of letters. A hairy valentine, we eat social code and spit up a library.

Pussipo says, Convene in language attired in this century’s most stylish uterus. Let your mod ovaries dangle out of your eye-sockets to their fullest advantage.

Pussipo says, A poem is not a synecdoche for a pap smear. Or a cunt-riddled plush toy with an animatronic chatterbox.

Pusssipo says, Mind your falsies.

Look hard at the female of the species, at their cannibal wigs and zirconia-trimmed muzzleloaders, their coyless page of slits. You will now be page to their slits, a bag of meat with wings.

To the monkey in the pot de crème, welcome.

Press any tender button to continue.
Posted by Lara Glenum at 9:30 PM 1 comments

Pussipo will see you in the Underworld where “poetry in [that] tradition, [has been] self-slain, murdered by its own past strength.”

Pussipo emulate that child who vomits up her own materials in order to rid herself entirely of tainted skins. Pussipo do not try to rescue or retain our own materials, but jar them loosely in fermented mare’s milk and gasoline.

Pussipo rejoice in Western art and literature’s ascription of the rank corpse. In these glossy hides, Pussipo gain access to the Underworld and begin.

Pussipo will see you in the Underworld.

Pussipo do not fondle the reified detritus of the phallus encrusting the common chat. Instead, Pussipo proceed directly to the genital, slice open its purse, and carry its mucoid jargon to the Underworld. Pussipo place a pin in every accomplished lip.

Pussipo splice together those brief crags with our own historical organs. Thus Pussipo create gold-toothed cyborgs; part poem, part biologue. Entirely analogue.

Pussipo will see you in the Underworld where Pussipo will remake you with your own discarded fat cells, where Pussipo will poke out your faux god-eye and insert the thousand-chambered fly-eyes of the pussilarva.

Take heart.
Posted by D at 7:46 PM 0 comments
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