Dear Followers, Friends, fellow Workers:

I have just begun a new blog/zine called
Chirot Zero Zine A Heap of Rubble--
Anarkeyology of hand eye ear notations
the blog is more exusively concerned than this one with presenting essays, reviews (inc. "bad reviews") , Visual Poetry, Sound Poetry, Event Scores, Manifestos, Manifotofestos, rantin' & raving, rock'roll, music all sorts--by myself and others--if you are interested in being a contributor, please feel free to contact me at
as with this blog, the arts are investigated as a part of rather than apart from the historical, economic, political actualities of yesterday, today, & tomorrow
as with al my blogs--
contributions in any language are welcome

Free Leonard Peltier

Free Leonard Peltier
The government under pretext of security and progress, liberated us from our land, resources, culture, dignity and future. They violated every treaty they ever made with us. I use the word “liberated” loosely and sarcastically, in the same vein that I view the use of the words “collateral damage” when they kill innocent men, women and children. They describe people defending their homelands as terrorists, savages and hostiles . . . My words reach out to the non-Indian: Look now before it is too late—see what is being done to others in your name and see what destruction you sanction when you say nothing. --Leonard Peltier, Annual Message January 2004 (Leonard Peltier is now serving 31st year as an internationally recognized Political Prisoner of the United States Government)

Injustice Continues: Leonard Peltier Again Denied Parole

# Injustice continues: Leonard Peltier denied parole‎ - By Mahtowin A wave of outrage swept the progressive community worldwide at the news that Native political prisoner Leonard Peltier was denied parole on Aug. ... Workers World - 2 related articles » US denies parole to American Indian activist Leonard Peltier‎ - AFP - 312 related articles » # Free Leonard Peltier 2009 PRISON WRITINGS...My Life Is My Sun Dance Leonard Peltier © 1999. # Prison Writings: My Life Is My Sun Dance - by Leonard Peltier, Harvey Arden - 2000 - Biography & Autobiography - 272 pages Edited by Harvey Arden, with an Introduction by Chief Arvol Looking Horse, and a Preface by former Attorney General Ramsey Clark. In 1977, Leonard Peltier... - # Leonard Peltier, American Indian Activist, Denied Parole And Won't ... Aug 21, 2009 ... BISMARCK, ND — American Indian activist Leonard Peltier, imprisoned since 1977 for the deaths of two FBI agents, has been denied parole ... - Cached - Similar - #

Gaza--War Crime: Collective Punishment of 1.5 Million Persons--Recognized as "The World's Largest Concentration Camp"

Number of Iraquis Killed Since USA 2003 Invasion began

Just Foreign Policy Iraqi Death Estimator

US & International Personnel losses in Iraq &Afghanistan; Costs of the 2 Wars to US

Number of U.S. Military Personnel Sacrificed (Officially acknowledged) In America's War On Iraq: 4,667

Number Of International Occupation Force Troops Slaughtered In Afghanistan : 1,453


Cost of War in Iraq


Cost of War in Afghanistan

The cost in your community

flickr: DEATH FROM THIS WINDOW/DOORS OF GUANTANAMO--Essays, Links, Video-- US use of Torture

VISUAL POETRY/MAIL ART CALL Cracking World’s Walls & Codes Concrete & Virtual

Cracking World’s Walls & Codes Concrete & Virtual

No Sieges, Tortures, Starvation & Surveillance
Deadline/Fecha Limite: SinsLimite/ongoing
Size: No limit/Sin Limite
No Limit on Number of Works sent
No Limit on Number of Times New Works Are Sent
Documentation: on my blog
David Baptiste Chirot
740 N 29 #108
Milwaukee, WI 53208

Miss Universe Visits Guantanamo: 'A Loooot Of Fun!'

Miss Universe Visits Guantanamo: 'A Loooot Of Fun!'

The current 'Miss Universe' Dayana Mendoza (formerly Miss Venezuela) and 'Miss America' Crystal Stewart visited US troops stationed in Guantanamo Bay on March 20th, the New York Times reports. Here's Mendoza's account of the visit from her pageant blog last Friday. She says the trip "was a loooot of fun!"

This week, Guantánamo!!! It was an incredible experience...All the guys from the Army were amazing with us. We visited the Detainees camps and we saw the jails, where they shower, how the recreate themselves with movies, classes of art, books. It was very interesting. We took a ride with the Marines around the land to see the division of Gitmo and Cuba while they were informed us with a little bit of history.

The water in Guantánamo Bay is soooo beautiful! It was unbelievable, we were able to enjoy it for at least an hour. We went to the glass beach, and realized the name of it comes from the little pieces of broken glass from hundred of years ago. It is pretty to see all the colors shining with the sun. That day we met a beautiful lady named Rebeca who does wonders with the glasses from the beach. She creates jewelry with it and of course I bought a necklace from her that will remind me of Guantánamo Bay :)

I didn't want to leave, it was such a relaxing place, so calm and beautiful.

Friday, June 30, 2006

Silent Festival, Found Visual Musics, Vocaleyes


In the novel THE HORSE'S MOUTH, the painter Gulley Jimson (one of the great inspirations of my life and work) is talking with Coker the barmaid about how to look at one of his paintings. You feel the forms with the eye he says and hear "a kind of colored music in the mind". I like that because i believe in the work i do at any rate the eye and hand learn continually to be interchangeable--to feel with the eye and see with the hand--and not only to hear a colored music in the mind--but to vocaleyes it also. "My voice goes after/what my eyes can't reach" Walt Whitman cries--and one wonders if the voice in reaching its hand far enough might not feel with its eyes what it had wanted to reach--you see/hear/feel (touch) how the senses become intermingled. "A long reasoned derangement of the senses" Rimbaud wrote of--though a reasoned derangement--how very French! Sounds not unlike Pascal: "It is not the elements which are new, but the order of their arrangement". Perhaps it is more a confluence of the senses continual flowing in and out of each other, and rather than grid lines of reasoning trails of associations. The foundation being continual contact with the sensory world "in concert" with its provocations of imagination. "Look under your feet!" Chuang Tzu says!
Everyday a continual movement onwo/ards in these areas--often the experience in itself of this confluence of the senses gives one the sense of Whitman's voice going after what his eyes can't reach--that one is moving towards things which are all around yet as yet beyond--what one finds & makes are notations on the way--
Yesterday was the Opening of Summerfest in Milwaukee, billed as the World's Largest Music Fesitival. (It's 11 days lone.) A friend of mine was playing twice, in different bands and later we wanted to see Elvis Costello and the Imposters with Allen Toussaint and The Crescent City Horns. From three twenty pm to just past six pm the "unheard of" happend--a power outage--the entire fairgrounds fell silent. Or at least the machines did--for those three hours the only sounds one heard in the vast area were those of human voices. It was time travel into the past--the place is so large you can sit in area where you hear no cars at all, no city sounds. People walking and talking, sitting and talking, drinking beer and talking. No one seemed especially alarmed at all. At one point a marching band struck up and marched around the grounds, followed by a large crowd, joyfulling toasting their drinks in air. The band was greeted everywhere with immense cheers and applause. No one knew who they were, but they were the mega-stars of the hour. It reminded me of living in Arles,France in May 1968 when the whole country shut down as though a plug had been pulled. People strolled about talking, or sat around talking. Small events became huge ones. A dog show usually attended by at best two hundred people drew over ten thousand. The organizers were in delrium with the shock. No one had any idea what a dog show is and does-or what breeds are--or how points scored---no matter. Each dog was bet on and loudly cheered. A grand time had by all. The same at Summerfest--all the small events drew large crowds--jugglers, pneumatic pogo stick jumpers, strait jacket escape artists, childrens' games, etc.

Notations and things found on the way . . .
On the way to the festival I stopped at corner store by 27th street bus stop and purchased a pack of cigarettes. As you can see, the box is a rebus of the brand name. A form of visual poetry first used on coins and carvings in Classical Greece and very common today on the web and in children's books--there' s even a Rebus character series--and brilliantly worked with in Gabriel Pomerand's long unavailable 1950 Lettriste classic SAINT GERMAIN DES PRETS--which this year has been published in a bi-lingual edition by Ugly Duckling Presse as SAINT GHETTO OF THE LOANS.
I found a stiff piece of paper folded with some interesting lettering on it--it felt like a possble cover for a small book--turned it over and found the letters WPA on the back, like he old Works Progress Administration--unfolding it, found the letters all together spelled--wet paint! Think it will do well for smll handmade book--

On the way there, made a few rubBEings in a small notebook.
To celebrate Summerfest--here's some fotos of a guitar with some amazing visual poetry work on it that my friend Larry said he had found. I used to live with Larry and we'd go very often beginning at dawn on long trips around Milwaukee finding things of all sorts in the trash--we had great times and found great things. Other times, alone, Larry would return with things that seemed a bitt suspiciously NOT things that would be thrown out. (This guitar for example.) When acussed of "liberating" objects rather than "finding" them, he' always say, God led me to it and meant me to have it so I won't forget how much He loves me." To which I'd respond, "God obviously loves you very much." God loved him this day and blessed him with the guitar.
On the bus I found this comic book--it's one in a series of which I have many--this one is virulently anti-homosexual--have chosen not to broadcast that aspect--here some of the blander images--check out the one of God!
Despite the ending of the book, in which all the evil people are destroyed by the Loving God--here some more found grafitti fotos procaliming the opposite message.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006


Destruction and
of cities' visual poetries

Thursday 29 June 2006

I have't put up or written anything here in too long. so will begin with daily images & notes. I'm going to be including not only my own work but also visual poems in any materials found on street.
These will include everything from twigs in interesting forms, marked stones, scratched boards, torn papers, interesting feathers, anything that has visual poetry notation/calling apects to it.
A great many people take beautiful fotos of graffiti and street art they find in cities and landscapes around the world. In my case, instead of taking pictures myself--an entire album filled with such fotos, found on the street! Since my own work is done with street found objects, a poetic justice at work. I was walking north on N. Farwell in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. usa, just South of Brady Street, with my friend Victor, a Mexican writer on Latin Amercan art. We spotted an immense pile of things being thrown out in front of a large beat up house (now a very good Tattoo shop). Sorting through the objects, we came across this foto album. I also found three fotos of a very attractive Latina. Some time later a friend was at my place, painting the rooms of the building. I had my things boxed up and moved to the center of the room. The foto of the beautiful young woman was on top of an open box--and my friend said--how do you know her? I said I didn't, had only found the foto. It turned out he knew who she was and said he bet he knew where I had found the foto and the album. He did--and he went on to tell me the saga of the woman and her boyfriend which led to these things being in the street.
So we have the beautiful Latina and her saga to thank for these fotos. We hope what happens next with her is happy and where she has moved to a better place for her.
I've put these up as they are mounted on the pages of the album--others I will put up singly so you can see them better. Wanted to show how the album's owner had organized the fotos as layouts, in itself a form of visual poetry, the arranging as it were of the lines.

If you have any work you'd like me to put up along with a written statement, manifesto or notes re technique you use or questions you have --feel free to send to me--things you'd like to have discussed regarding visual poetry or any related topics--they can be typed, handwritten, scrawled, in whatever medium you prefer-can be as simple as a post card with message on the back--artwork on front-as complex as you want it to be--my address is:
david-baptiste chirot
740 N 29 #108
Milwaukee, WI 53208 USA

(please pass on to anyone interested, via email, snail, word of mouth, blog--many thanks--)

Have been reading a number of books which deal with art and poetry and the Paris Commune of 1871, as well as the period of the first ten years of Impressionism, which includes the Commune. In his ART AND THE COMMUNE Imagining Paris After War and Revolution, Albert Boime demonstrates the ways in which Impressionism participated in the political, cultural, architectural methods of eradicating the Commune from historical memory.
There's a very vivid, violent found visual poetry in this disturbing passage from Boime's book --note "the bizarre colorations produced on the stone by the flames"--when the Communards set fire to many of the official and upper class buildings of Paris as the Army of the State advanced, slaughtering in one week 25, 000 people. (The killing continued after the war, with mass executions of people turned in by informers or of prisoners on the slightest pretext and trials, executions, imprisonments, exiles, deportations went on for another two years.)

Immediately after the war (the Civil War aginst the Paris Commune, March-May 1871), two conservatives published a Guide a travers les ruines: Paris et ses environs-- a curious guidebook that coincides with the sites selected by the Impressionists. The authors' aim was twofold: to record precise detail for those hungry for such information in the prsent, and to reconstitute for future generations the "primordial" state of things before totally effaced by restoration. They refer to their PLANNED STROLLS (my emphasis) amid the ruinous quartiers as a "navrante promenade" ["disturbing stroll"]. ( They hoped to see a part of the Hotel de Ville preserved with a commemorative plaque to keep the horrors of he Commune perpetually in view.) The authors never fail to point out the incalulable tragedies of human and property loss due to the fires of the Commune, including the destruction of a bakery that produced unforgettable croissants for the employees of the Ministry of the Navy. Their obsessive detail, down to the bizarre colorations produced on on the stone by the flames, is meant impress the oberver with the savage character of the Commune and their wanton demolition of the historical legacy (112).

Another description I have read includes the writings as it were made by the streams and spatterings of blood on walls, streets, stones, as well as the colorations produced by fire.
"Disturbing" I wrote above not so much because of the means by which the colorations were created, as the uses to which they were put, with the international media portraying the Communards as criminal incendiaries, while the fires caused by the bombardments by government forces were treated as perfectly natural. Here you can see how swiftly the conservatives have retaken the streets not only militarily but also in terms of a politico-moral tourism, mapping a psychogeographical terrain whose signs are to be read as lessons in what happens if the proletariat are allowed to have any say in literally and figuratively representing themselves.
As Paris was rebuilt, these same sites were painted by the Impressionists as recolonized spaces of leisure for the returning bourgeoisie.
(In an impassioned section of his "The Civil War in France" Karl Marx notes that the Communard's "vandalism" of "incendiarism" is less destructive than that of Hausmann, "razing historic Paris to make place for the Paris of the sightseer." "The Commune knew that its opponents cared nothing for the lives of the Paris people, but cared much for their own Paris buildings.")
What intrigued me reading this excerpt is that it comes from the other side--usually such accounts of reading the streets and finding a visual poetry of flame made insciptions on stone are made by artists/teoreticians/philosophers of a leftist/anarchist/situationist "avant-garde" perspective--here we find it from the blood drenched conquerers themselves, reclaiming their city which they have "cleansed" of the "diseased" inhabitants. Once their rotting bodies have been disposed of, a whole new form of visual inscription will be carried out, in which Impressionism plays a part.
It is very interesting to me because walking around Milwaukee this last year, especially the east side, an immense demolition has been going on, out of which is arising a whole new conglomeration of condos, hospital wings, immense food markets, parking garages, etc. Some areas for a while look bombed out--with huge craters and shattered remains of walls, floors, ceilings, piles of rubble and ruins of concrete poetry in the midst of which sit various machines, waiting to spring into action. Ten storey cranes tower over the skyline of two and three storey houses. The facades of new buildings make walls cutting off the views of Lake Michigan and creating new wind patterns. An immense invasion of capital is taking place--a rewriting visually of the codes for the tongues of money being spoken . . . reading their visual notations you can hear their exchanges . . .
Meanwhile---a myriad other fugitive visual poetries simultaneoulsy happening-- everywhere to be found, hidden in plain sight.

Today a city in Gaza is being bombarded by thousands of leaflets warning the inhabitants to evacuate. At a given time the Israeli air and military might are going to turn this city into "a ghost town".
First the town is covered with words--then they are erased, and the town with them.
What forms of a poetry to make on a tabula rasa? Make with a tabula rasa? This i'm going to be thinking about continually--
Unlike the Communards, no one will accuse the Army and Air Force of "vandalism" and "incendiarism".
But there will be a great many stones "with bizarre colorations . . . produced by fire".