"The poet is of no party." Baudelaire
Our manifesto is an act of substantiation.
We reject all forms of futilitarianism, in whatever disguise.
We believe that comedy is the song of the village and tragedy the song of the goat.
We believe what is written in the books, but now we want to see for ourselves.
The single idea, beating on the same doors in vain.
The analogue and the invention.
The death cell.
The first permission.
Though we watch the stage for things to happen, though our minds wander.
By ourselves in the green field, playing our diversion.
Though the story begins with the loss of a home.
Out of the machine, we shift restlessly in our seats.

Issue: ELEVEN, WINTER 2022

13 | 12 | 11 | ARCHIVE: 1–10

{ Manifesto }

Continuance

March 23, 2026 Keith Newton

You have worn the form of of

Fingers clasped in a rough weave

Shadow rabbit on the taupe wall

A known pattern on the blue sheets

Strummin on the old banjo

It’s good like this

Stop requiring more

Personal Data Struggle

March 23, 2026 Keith Newton

Who do you think they think you are

Red rover red rover

Valid stratagem

C’meon over

Soreness in flourishing into the no-no of knowing

Accrue divestments

Night fruit goes viral

Accounting Software

March 23, 2026 Keith Newton

No one else will do this

and no one else

will see it done

Blister in the putrid sun

“Exposure to—what?”

From low

in the diaphragm

Aluminum!

A silence that immoral creeps

Shut up is an endless thrum