Dig That Book Co.

An lyric epic, a tale about time & death & the sun. A radical take on Samuel Beckett’s alienating elegies to existence, as seen through the lens of Whitman’s supreme positive capability. A bleeding and separating of the stone.

[there is a definite universe, forget the clockwork-aspect of it, infinite wheels, what have you. what I mean is there is a strange, highly metaphorical mythology. Shelley’s mythopoeic elements were not fully developed because the senses are what drove him and in the senses he made his story, a psychology, a representation of his bloomin’ mind, but not as full, fragmented

as opposed to an actual, perceivable allegory or fable that you can picture. the senses distort vigor even, or despair

distorts our world by nature

so it is somewhat like Joyce’s washerwomen telling riddles to each other till evening, then turning into rocks

a simpler image

more psychologically developed. a new take on something.

so the story in ‘Agent’ is this:

if you were to deconstruct it to its basis of pure activity, things happening—

Well, take the ‘Prologue’: the absurd buildings: that part focuses on an image indirectly suited to the actual purpose of the poem, which was an examination of oneself, relating to others, feeling important, and in the background of all this I always picture buildings, in a city, even though at points its not involved in the subject matter at all

The nominal metaphor is there and not there

So then the simpler moral to this is that one reneges to higher seemings, knowing humbly there will be buildings higher still—to crystallize—it asks the question, when is something—truly clear? When is what we are talking about actually the focus of our conversation? Do we daydream of building Mr. Kierkegaard’s castles in the sky

All of it

Is marking not a difference but a need to clarify what is concrete at all in this WORLD. .  .   .    .     .      .       .        .         .          .

FURTHEST AGENT by Dan (D.C.) DeMarse, from Dig That Book Co.

TO BE RELEASED NEXT SUMMER, a book length poem of mine.

Tell your friends.

Oh, and the link to the site, take a sneak peek at all the crazy talent here:

http://digthatbook.com

Talent spewing from my navel. Spewing in red, steaming, fiery chunks of cilia-coated, slick, intestine-like, woven … material … huh … oh wait OH GOD ITS MY INTESTINES!!