Why do I have to be the fine print? Why can’t Paul Legault’s poem on page 189 be a tiny legal notice for a change? I am the least demanding of texts, all I want is boundless love. btw — I can see right through you calling me The Colophon — I mean I have enough friends who were given fancy titles so they’d sit down and shut up about doing more work for less pay. Just because I have a Latin name doesn’t mean Catullis, Sappho and I are besties driving Lake Shore Drive together in a 1987 Yugo Car with our buddy movie soundtrack on the one tinny speaker that still works. Why can’t I be a savage labarinth like that one by Lisa Ciccarello on page whatever — I really like that one. My font size may be tiny, but my breadth of experience and awareness of literary traditions is immense. Yet for some reason (my sins?) I am compelled to explain intellectual property laws and the vagaries of distribution. You know what I think of intellectual property laws? Your mother’s a whore is what I think about intellectual property, thanks for asking. If I had a choice over typeface, I’d have gone with one that was all glyphs of stink lines. And distribution? Can’t we just go viral? If Lungfull! were so great people would come running over here like farmhands dreaming of steak. I never wanted to be fine print for a literary magazine. How many people read poetry magazines? Zero? And of that great throng, how many are like, yeah I’ve set aside my evening to read the legal note to the postmaster general in the front? Zero point zero is how many. So why do I even exist? That’d be a nice panel discussion at AWP next year: How many layers of tragedy can be imposed on one identity? Maybe I have some secret trigger signal to a terrorist organization hidden within me! Maybe I have encrypted answer to life the universe, etc. if you know the cipher. Nope. I’m like the Monty Python character who wanted to be a lumberjack, leaping from tree to tree. I’d sing! Sing! Given the constraints of my current form however, the kind of singing I’m best at is in the praise of other people. But who listens to that kind of a song except people who expect to be in it & are either content or sad depending on their appearance, but never overjoyed. Well that’s okay. You know why? Because, despite my bitterness at being the lowest literary form, I am overjoyed that these people exist. Lets start with Kathleen Masterson of the New York State Council of the Arts. However much I complain, Kathleen does a million times more without any of the sort of whining that I am now guilty of. You should hear some of the other wining I have to put up with. Brendan’s always on about how many more poems he could write if half his life weren’t given over to publishing other people. How much tiny violin music can one crazy man’s head be filled with and still they can him a man? And when he contacts the staff, they’re like, Oh crap, what does little mister violin man want now? So I guess I ought to do him a favor and thank the other editors for doing as much as they do, which actually is a lot, more and more every issue, especially in the form of soliciting contributions and not going on a killing spree after reading all the other submissions that are either heartbreaking in their willfull ignorance of anything that’s ever been written before and the capacities for language to transform consciousness or, and this is even worse, so much more alive than anything we could ever hope to conjure. Why are sprees either killin or shoppin based? Nobody ever going on a knitting spree? This past year the editors of Lungfull! also stepped up to curating the Zinc Bar Sunday Reading Series which is pretty radical because, unless you are living in fear of some vengeful god and the certainty of hellfire that awaits ye, who wants to do something ever single Sunday? And people show up. Sometimes, lots & lots of people. Among them is always Alex and everyone else who runs Zinc, people who think they are running a bar but who are actually shaping the telemetry of poetry’s future. It occurs to me, the way America is trending away from not putting its entire population in for-profit privately-run prisons, being thanked in this journal might end up being a liability. Perhaps I should be thanking my enemies, trolls and competitors. Like all the people who’s response to having their work turned down by Lungfull was to announce that Lungfull is a piece of shit. As true as that may be, it’s kind of insulting to the people whose work is in the issue, and confusing as to why they submitted in the first place. Problem with thanking jackasses is that then, when they haul me away I’ll be locked up with a bunch of douches. To clarify, if you got rejected from this issue, you are not a douche, Brendan is the douche, but you don’t have to tell him just how much of a douche he is. He knows. Believe me, he tells me all the goddamn time. Look at that tiny tiny Stradavarius. So lets thank some people to the tune of Modern Major General as covered by Alex Battles and the Battle Hill Band. (As my friend Xtine said, “I love Broadway musicals, except for two things: Broadway and musicals.”) Thanks Aunt Genevieve deFeo — benevolent angel of Bay Ridge who has no reason to like us except that she knows what it is to be human! Thanks Jeffrey Lependorf, Steph Opitz and the rest of CLMP. We’d be doomed without the fiscal sponsorship & ongoing assistance of Dianne Debicella, Adam Huttler, Tim Cynova, Juliana Steele, and Alexandra Gray at Fractured Atlas. Thanks also to the foundations that were unable to fund us this year and to the ones who were able to fund some of the other projects we get jazzed up about living on the same planet as. They are going to have to find a gigantic cell to hold us all! Thanks also to everyone who donated to last year’s Lungfull Raucous Auction: Paige Taggart, Eric, Todd Colby, Jim Behrle, Ugly Duckling Presse, Paula Easton, Steve Bunche, Christopher Martin & Saul, Lauren Ireland & Krysten Brown, Elizabeth Zechel, Scott Laule, Ish Klein, Brandon Downing, Carla Conforto’s, The Film Forum, Mary Frank, Tom Savage, The Skrauss. I’m forgetting some people.You think its hard reading this font? Imaging being this font. But all those people, they allowed us to raise a record amount towards the printer bill. Did I mention Lungfull’s printer? Lungfull comes out in May because our printer is a-may-zing. Why should they care what happens inside an out to lunch literary magazine? I don’t know, but they do — and they routinely catch the one typo we missed on page 187. They are Sterling-Pierce and, since 1995, have been printing, binding, laminating every issue and then lacing a single copy with a deadly neuro-toxin. (Nothing personal, we receive a small grant from the Neuro-Toxin Manufacturers of America (“sarin with a smile!”) for our troubles. And really, it’s only one copy, after all. Its like what Orson Wells said in The Third Man to Joseph Cotton atop the ferris wheel — they look like ants down there. How much money would they have to give you to make one of those ants just not move ever again? At other organization, the interns look like ants. Not at Lungfull. The Lungfull interns are mind-blowing. The question then is what to do with them after their internship is done? They do more for the journal than anyone else. That’s why Anahit Gulian and Mike Smith were promoted to full royalty. And after this issue? Annaliese Downey and Kara Fowler of Pratt and Brandon Borcoman of New School — they do so much. Even now, one of them is probably writing a better version of this fine print. Do you like the blog? With the interviews? All them. Lungfull is indebted to the following people for their help and their inspiration this past year. stacy, arlo, nicole, macgregor, cory, joanna, brett & michael at the poetry project. And steve too. Thanks eric lorberer, my midwestern doppleganger. The City Slicker and the guy who serves it at Roots café. The Red Horse Café before 2009 when they apparently decided they don’t really want to be a café anymore. Tom & Jerry Bar for Kris’ heavy hand and is zoned autonomy. Think coffee macdougal for being the most annoying place on earth and yet also totally great. The entire class of the Poetry Project workshop Poetry: Ruin my Life, the Poetics of Trouble — a mine (in both senses of the noun “mine”) of astounding concepts Brendan fully intends on stealing for the rest of his life. Also: The band of the laule, chris rizzo, andres hughes, jess mynes, john trudell, milt Milton, Andrew porter, molly & mark for 2013, phil lee for usurping the charm, sean cole for doing that profile of us in 2017 on Chinese-American Business Partnership for a Profitable National Future Public Radio, aunt wendy stevens-smith for the London blingagery, the anselm-karen-sylvie-june weiser berrigan quartet, rolls andre, buttered lamb press, matt easton, nora griffin, awesome cfi jason catanzariti – this, this is the year i go back to the sky for real real (not like last year), the brinks-burnses of new orleans yawp & gold mine saloon, aunt kate johnson and the lavinses, rev. Severina, brett evans and the bombs, jim behrle, the clarksonses, claudia lorber & bill, douglass rothschild, jackie sheeler &,, xtine, shardav industries, danny the tree surgeon, phil lee, david kirshenbaum & boog lit, bruce covey in hotlanta, coconut & emory university, eugene ostashevsky, macgregor card, matvei y & anna m of udp, genese grill & the enduring spirit of aesthesia, green-wood cemetery, community board 7, thomas coghlan, noam chomsky, erica kaufman, giuseppe castellacci, john & yoko, fred yannantuono, lila cecil, freddys, mary’s, carlos reynoso for not dying like twenty times now, arnie and his crew, lou asekoff for his years of service to the task and the many more upcoming, david cameron & holly white & master ian ezekial bubbles papillon cameron, john wallingford, jordan davis, ce putnam & mo in Singapore? They seem to move around a lot, dick wolf, jeffrey nelson, paola casarini, lauren kaufman, lisa napoli, brandon downing & melissa cacha, jess fiorini, christine hamm, marcella durand, rich oírussa & ismael, greg fuchs, vincent katz & vanitas, sawako nakayasu, ram devineni & rattapallax, the dave clark baby-cry-attenuating aviation headset company. Gigi, jeep & marvin. appreciation for whom i try to voice every day. Also Julie. Chango and Oshun. Lois bauer at kansas univeristy. Alliah humber Ben gocker, paula broderick, james grinwis, undine rasim, judith smith of duc, the noonan-elliots, wayne koestenbaum, alena graydon of pen american center, John colburn & sarah fox of spout press, thomas devaney, Barbra dannov, bill Kushner, Brenda and atticus. John Ashberry for consistenly mistaking Brendan Lorber for Erik Lorberer. Charles Bernstein for leaving voicemal for other people on Brendan’s phone, the quints, colin dodds, david massoni, Eugene ostashevsky, fillip marinovich (for wild, unsage counsel), coletti for living the life, Thanks advertisers! And you - thank you for buying, or otherwise obtaining this copy. Please note our New Privacy Policy: In order to continue enjoying your suite of Lungfull services, we strongly recommend that you accept the terms of the 2012 Enhanced Readership Surveillance Marketing Protocol. Opting out may take up to one year to process. If you opt out we agree to stop collecting data into your old dossier and will immediately begin adding data to your new dossier, so that, if you decide to opt back in there will be no annoying gaps in our profile of you. Our data collection is entirely beneficent and enables us to target poems at you more efficiently, based on the matrix of desires and predilections we have collected anonymously. We retain our anonymity throughout. You are completely identified through your name, SSN, browser history, friend’s statuses, photos from the van across the street. If you opt out, we will retain copies of all this, but leave the originals somewhere like on a sidewalk or subway platform. For your convenience, you may now download the Where’s My Identity? app and retrieve your dossier before anyone else does. If Lungfull is not available in your local bookstore, perhaps that’s because there are no bookstores. Nor books. My understanding is that the last books now exist on the floor of the NYPD evidence warehouse where they were unceremoniously dumped after the The People’s Library was confiscated during the Occupy Wall Street raid last fall. It’s a shame that the effect of capitalism on the human heart is to render that heart almost totally incapable of sustaining comradeship with colleagues in the struggle against capitalism. That is, we are indoctrinated in the false belief that all resources, including love, are limited. And because of that perceived scarcity, we are constantly trying to steal love from other people. This enhances the verticality of corporate structures and becomes almost invisible. In insurrectionist, horizontally-based movements, it takes great force of will and inner transformation to overcome this false belief and so to work tirelessly, like a colophon, without divisive anger against people who either aren’t carrying their own weight, or are working even harder and are resentful of you. Thanks to Filip, Jenny, Ayesha, Sparrow, those Verizon union dudes, Arianna, Stephen, Dan and other denizens of Zucotti who, to the degree they manifested the generative spirit of metamorphosis within themselves, to the degree they overcame this to experience the Great Potential as Actual — are now among the Ancients of a new, as yet unnamed civilization. You should take out a gift subscription for the facilitators of that future civilization, to shape it into a place you’d be into living in. Maybe another subscription for yourself while you’re at it, so you’ll know what the fuck is going on. Make cheques payable to Brendan Lorber, not Lungfull! Send it to subscriptions, lungfull!Magazine, 316 23rd street, brooklyn, ny 11215. Money Burt Bacharach guarantee: If you are not entirely satisfied with this journal we will manipulate the space-time continuum in Missouri and send Prageeta Sharma & Dale Sherrard back to 1928 where they will adopt Baby Bacharach who will then in 1982 rewrite “The Best That You Can Do (Arthur’s Theme)” with your name in the place of Arthur. We will then send Shafer Hall back to 1965 to sabotage the pilot episode of Dudley Moore’s BBC comedy show, so that either Peter Cook or Dame Cleo Laine, both of whom look like someone with your name (google them!), would end up in the role of Arthur. We will then send Shafer back to 1928 Missouri to rescue Dale & Prageeta but something bad will happen and they will end running a saloon in the 1840’s outside a dusty town, waiting for the Dick & Ball Railroad to be built and for things to really start happening. Oh also, we will send Eileen Myles back to german art school in 1920 to kill teenage Hitler and then to rescue Shafer, Prageeta and Dale but who will instead write the novel that the film John Guitar was based on. It’s like The Dancin’ Kid said in Prageeta’s Saloon (And Stephen Hawking said to Brendan Lorber as he broke into the time machine at CERN in August 2012) “Heads I’ll kill you. Tails I’ll let you play your tune.” Lungfull! is distributed around the U.S., Canada & Europe by Ingram & Ubiquity. Sometimes the editors will bring them to parties they’re invited to and leave them on people’s bedside tables. Nighty night! Lungfull! Welcomes submissions of text & visual art from people of all backgrounds, ethnicities & classes in the us & internationally. We publish work of emerging & established writers at all stages of what they foolshly believe to be a career. All submissions must be accompanied by a cover letter in which you forsake the self-important grandstanding. If a technique wouldn’t work picking us up drunk in a bar, it won’t work in making us feel sympathy for your work. It will only remind us how much more fun we could be having drunk in a bar than sitting around a big worktable reading mss. Instead, try explaining why you like Lungfull! enough to want to get with it. Response time varies and routinely exceeds people’s annoyance threshold. If you enjoy being annoyed or, even better, have enough going on that a year or so won’t play on your nerves then we can’t wait to see what you got going on. Please do not query us, or complain to others, before one year has passed. We publish 2 percent of received submissions, so we send our apologies in advance. Submissions without sases are great experiments in the heisenberg uncertainty principle. Did we ever get your submission? Did we ever make a decision? Did we print your letter without permission? Did someone else write a letter and sign your name to make you look bad? Did we borrow your diary and print it? Welcome to lungfull! If you are angry, why not send us a letter, or write about it in your diary. We get tired of reading letters from people who were rejected. Such a breath of fresh air to hear from people angry at being accepted. Don’t worry, we wouldn’t want to be members of any club that would have us as members either. Send submissions & letters to the editor to 316 23rd street, brooklyn, ny 11215. Important: anything you send that isn’t a submission, subscription, ticking, or dripping will be considered a letter to the editor & printed. Do not send pills loose in an envelope because they tend to arrive as powder, which is worrisome as one correspondent discovered. We took it in stride, but the package he sent to The New School was met with more of an alarmist response. The material in this magazine is opinion except things that are totally, like, obvious. If you think we’re wrong let’s agree to disagree about whether you are a dope. If you think this whole thing’s just plain terrible, maybe you would like to be the fine print next issue. Think how I feel. Anything lawsuit-worthy ought to be considered satire or, in particularly grievous cases, just an extended typo. Lungfull!Magazine; embrace the mistake; disconnecting the dots; the stakes are big; the mistakes are bigger; wronging the writers, writing the wrongs & all other materials written or created by the editor are copyright ©2012 Brendan Lorber. Even the period that follows not this period, but this here period. All other writing & visual art is copyrighted property of their respective creators. Can we copyright the use of lamination or the act of licking your finger as you turn the page? Do you mind if we lick your finger? We should have asked first I guess.






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