I picked these up before my stuttering friend could get to them:

two gorgeous little broadsides from Ping Pong; A Literary Journal of the Henry Miller library/ Highway One/ Big Sur/ CA 93920

Expressio Unius est Exclusio Alterius (The expression of the one is the exclusion of the other)

It’s too late,
because
you’re already reading this poem,
and it’s too late to say
it’s not a poem,
because I just said it was.

You can hate it, or
by extension, me,
but you are reading my poem,
here, right now.
You say, these black characters,
are words, and I say,
it’s a poem.
You begin to believe me.
You begin
to believe.

Maria Garcia Teutsch

(orig. pub’d by Otoliths–wa hoo!)

And another by the same poet:

The Pinata

Cold rain turned my shirt
into papier mache.

I tried to hold it away
from the mound of each breast.

Your warm palms traced their shape,
and you told me I was beautiful.

All wet and streaming,
I believed you.

(orig. pub’d in Two Review–wahoo!)

About 300 of these treasures were stranded in the middle of a desk. I scooped up some and am sending them out via snail when I write to friends.

One of the craziest finds was a little folded A4 sheet called FOUND by Martin Nakell. It’s a meditation on the experimental novel, or rather, on the reading of same. Here’s a sampling:

Now. You are ripe to read. Physically. In your
body. The experimental novel does this to
you with its antitechniques, its guerrilla war-
fare against you it unravels itself through you.
You have become literature, literature has at-
omized. The author has taught you how to
read her/his book.

Content was rather predictable in our post-post-post modernity, but the crazy thing is the publisher: Jahbone Books; A Project of the Institute For the Harmony of Science & Poetics. No address given.

How wonderful!

Jess