ISSSN: 43986552396523. There! That should be enough to throw most people off of reading this. Living as I do in New York City, its hard to get any privacy at all, but 3pt type helps. And as the media through which we experience life changes, it is nice to know you will never be able to read this type, no matter upon what platform it’s foisted. Your eyes are going, it is true. Like Frank O’Hara’s heterosexuality, your mortality is inexorably creeping closer. But even when you were younger than you are now, you were never able to read this. Nor did you want to, injurious as such an act is to eternity, this killing of time. So staring at the glaze of tiny letters here is a little reassuring. Like your inability to spot your house keys is not because you are disorganized and lose everything, but because you are homeless or have no eyes. Or how not remembering your spouse’s name is not a symbol of early dementia but the more profound psychosis of believing yourself married. It also points to the cultural invisibility of this very compendium, the wilderness that provides weird poets their strength. Even well-known poets are unknown. I once posed as Sparrow at a fancy party of cultural dominators because he was momentarily Important enough to be invited, but not so important that anyone actually knew who he was. I also sometimes pretend to be from Scotland because parties are generally boring when you go as yourself. The essays and poems on later pages, with their ostentatious 10pt type, pretend to be readable but really they are no more so than this very line. Still, reading Lungfull! beats checking facebook every five seconds. Did they like my photo? How about now? Or maybe it isn’t. Aside from the work of the poets, the first issues of Lungfull! were marked by ancillary copy that was distracting at best and came from a mind heavily invested in nothing but its own minor cleverness. Most of the people who are only now arriving to this journal would be shocked at its early iterations, at the mantle of indiscretion and anti-intellectualism it wore. Even worse than it’s nose-thumbing quality was the mistaken rubric from under which it so thumbed. Luckily, of the people around at the beginning, those few who are still close at hand are forgiving because of their capacity of extreme discernment. They can see the unmanifested goodness behind silly, deafening nonsense. Of the people who appeared in the first issue in 1995 -- back when I had an aol account, long hair, and ate only Ben & Jerry’s and Smartfood -- of those in issue 1, most have stopped writing. Two of them were very ill last I heard, which was a long time ago, and another died. One became a chess master and post-punk musician in Berlin. At least half the contributors are ungoogleable which is a kind of testament to their success at resisting the dominant culture. They are the real poets, right? Not minor poets, not non-poets who now exist on the grid as buyers for Old Navy or as 2013’s Ohio Pharmaceutical Rep of the Year. They are just gone, which is impossible even among ancestors who passed away before existence was reframed in the cloud. There are more records of the bog people and Carpathian mountaineers from the 19th century who’s dna lives on in the editor — their online presence more pronounced than the lot of Issue Oners. Do you want to vanish? Perhaps that’s what this journal is secretly a primer for — life on a dark stage in a brightly lit arena. How do you avoid the terrible fate of being famous, if only in the Warholian state of being gazed upon that we all born hurtling towards. Step one, involve yourself with a literary magazine — either as a contributor or as its caretaker and watch the lack of response. Feel that non-tingling? That means it’s working! And from here you can say things that you couldn’t otherwise, and which further amplify that invisibility. Things like this: What do you call filthy, depraved acts of intimacy in Brooklyn? Artisanal sex. But because we can do and say anything, we are the locus for transformation which is made possible through the work of people who respond to that critical position rather than the undetectability that strange out to lunch poems bring upon themselves. Of these remarkable people, arguably the most remarkable is Kathleen Masterson at the New York State Council of the Arts, whose support for ground-breaking, broken and ground-up literature seems somehow to grow year after year and has kept this vehicle for oblivion from itself sinking into oblivion. Lets also extend thanks to those who extend our visions of the dark world back into the darkness. Alex & co over at Zinc Bar which has served as a home for poetry since 1995. And this past year, gratitude to Drew Boston who is helming the Lungfull Editorial Action Go Team as they curate the Sunday Night Series on over there. Thanks also for the Tango People who come on immediately afterward for dancing Tango immediately afterward. And to Cheryl Cutler, Wesleyan Professor of Dance, who comes to mind whenever I am in the presence of people who are mindful of their own bodies in the physical universe. Think its hard reading this? Imagine how hard it’d be without the light provided by so many people through their work and mere presence. Thanks Aunt Genevieve deFeo — benevolent, straight-shooting angel of Bay Ridge who always makes sure to have Lungfull! on display whenever we come over. 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. Thanks also to everyone who donated to last year’s Lungfull Raucous Auction: Film Forum, Nicole Peyrafitte, Edwin Torres, Shafer Hall, Dan Kurfist, Todd Colby, Talde, Thistle Hill, Michael Marwitt, Santino Di Renzo, Friday Jones, Liam Alexander, Sparrow, Scott Laule, Carla Conforto, Elizabeth Zechel, Alex Battles an the Poetry Project. I’m sure I’m forgetting several. Damnit. And also, big ups to Sterling-Pierce, our amazing printer right here in New York, just on the far side of JFK. If you were planning on printing something important and beautiful and then hopping on your private jet to distribute said material around the globe, we just found your guys. And thanks to our interns — Katie from Hunter and Alistaire from Pratt. And to the people and institutions who drew them to us — even as I type this, they are diligently doing other things which will have made the very copy you are holding exist. For example, Alistaire just noticed that we printed the same postcard from Brett Evans twice in the past two issues, and that perhaps we ought to make it a tradition going forward. And Katie is the first intern that Aurora ever said a word to, so clearly Katie is endowed with magical toddler-whisperer properties. We will work hard to make sure their experiences here at Lungfull World Headquarters will leave them as dispirited and bitter as all the other poets in the world. For the meantime however, their presence among the poetry community of New York more that doubles the sum total of all skill, aplomb and wisdom it possesses. Lungfull exists in service to the people whose services to us in particular or to the world at large make us possible. Such vast gratitude to 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. Think coffee macdougal for being the most annoying place on earth and yet also totally great. Also: The band of laules, andrew hughes, jess mynes, john trudell, milt Milton, Andrew porter, phil lee for getting me the gig, sean cole for his laugh, 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 (or the one before that (or before that))), dave brinks, megan burns and the future of new orleans poetry, aunt kate johnson and the lavinses, rev. Severina, brett evans and the wordbombs, jim behrle, the clarksons, claudia lorber & bill, douglass rothschild, luckymojo.com, xtine, shardav industries, danny the tree surgeon, phil lee, david kirshenbaum & boog lit, bruce covey in hotlanta, coconut & emory university, eugene ostashevsky, macgregor card, udp, genese grill & the enduring spirit of aesthesia, green-wood cemetery, community board 7, fireman ellis and the FDNY, thomas coghlan, noam chomsky, erica kaufman, giuseppe castellacci, john & yoko, fred yannantuono, lila cecil, freddys, mary’s, carlos reynoso, arnie and his crew, lou asekoff, 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 for the honest Italian translation (fothcoming), lauren xandra 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 voicemail for other people on Brendan’s phone, the quints, colin dodds, david massoni, eugene ostashevsky, fillip marinovich (for wild, unsage counsel), john coletti, phil & gary,ben mazer and battersea review, alex battles, rolls andre, Alyssa and sebanstian, kate down the block, anna and d, all the babysitters, the millay colony, jeff strabone & Connecticut College, Jane Lewty and Megan Garr, Christina Davis & Harvard & points beyond, Elianna Renner, Ian Baschetta and the enlightened society, jenny smith, john mulrooney, lenny’s pizza, Theresa, Thanks advertisers! And you - thank you for buying, or otherwise obtaining this copy. To get the most from your copy of Lungfull! be sure to turn on location services and push notifications, enable cookies, answer all phishing emails from suspicious sources. You may wish to send us all your passwords in case you lose track of them, or just grant us access to your Bank of America and Ashley Madison accounts. Money Beckett Guarantee: If you feel something happens in this issue, or is actively leading somewhere, or if, rather than wallowing in stasis as a means of examining the modern condition, an actual event occurs after which things are materially altered, we will send Samuel Beckett to your house to reassure you that nothing ever changes. Please be home between 9am and noon, though he may come in the evening, or the next day, or perhaps sometime after that. Or maybe you missed him, or he had the wrong address. Money Beck Guarantee: Soy un perdedor. If you can’t relate, trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate. And my time is a piece of wax, fallin’ on a termite that’s chokin on the splinters. Send a subscription to your enemy so they become less of a douche down the line. Maybe another subscription for yourself while you’re at it, becaseu I’m sure someone thinks you could use some improvement too. Make cheques payable to Brendan Lorber, not Lungfull! Send it to subscriptions, Lungfull!Magazine, 316 23rd street, brooklyn, ny 11215. Lungfull! is distributed around the U.S., Canada & Europe by Ingram & Ubiquity. Though with the way things are going, we may change over to a new distribution model — like waiting until you go to the bathroom and just slipping a copy in your purse. 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 their “career.” All submissions must be accompanied by a cover letter Try explaining why you like Lungfull! enough to want to get with it. Let us know that you read the fine print all the way down here by including the phrase “It’s a beautiful day in…” in your letter. Response time varies from long to ridiculously long. If you anticipate being alive for a year or so after you send us your submission, we’d love to hear from you can’t wait to see what you got going on. Please do not query us, or kvetch 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! 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, like all statements in the epistemologically ambiguous universe, is opinion except things which you and I know to be true. Lungfull!magazine; embrace the mistake; disconnecting the dots; the stakes are big; the mistakes are bigger; wronging the writers, writing the wrongs; what could go wrong; & all other materials written or created by the editor are copyright ©2013 Brendan Lorber. We are also laying claim to Fnece Books, Seque Foundation and Wesylan University Press. All other writing & visual art in this issue is copyrighted property of their respective creators. I’d also like to take this opportunity to pitch a new sitcom called Koch Brothers in which Ed Koch and Kenneth Koch are roommates somewhere in Queens.
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