posted by Caroline Picard

Here is a link to Devin’s reading!

Danny’s Reading Series

August 16, 2010

The Danny’s Tavern Reading Series

August 18th 2010!

9th Anniversary Reading

Featuring readings by Patrick Culliton, Devin King, and Caroline Picard

Patrick Culliton’s chapbook Hornet Homily is available from Octopus Books. Recent work has appeared, or will soon, in Another Chicago Magazine, Beeswax, Conduit, Eleven Eleven and elsewhere. He teaches at UIC and Loyola.

Devin King’s first book CLOPS is out from the Green Lantern Press. He lives and works in Chicago.

Caroline Picard is the Founding Director of The Green Lantern Gallery & Press, and a Co-Editor for the literary podcast The Parlor (www. Her writing has been published in a handful of publications including the Phildelphia Independant, NewCity, Lumpen, MAKE Magazine, the Chicago Art Journal Review and Proximity Magazine.

About PostWar Psych

July 20, 2010


posted by Caroline Picard
Last week one of our authors, Devin King (Clops) read at a local reading event called Quickies. All authors are alloted 4 minutes during which they are to read a story of some kind. Devin posted the text of what he read and you see it by going here. This is an excerpt from the beginning:
Takeshi Mizutani’s guitar feedback is a circle built from tangents. Each tangent is the center of a two-dimensional vector-star that moves in vortices outwards and these stars can never touch except by violence. But the listener holds on to a secret, mongrel nature that expects the reverse in his musical substance; to them, Mizutani’s feedback becomes the stock characters of a post-war play or short story and the blank centers of the costumed stars enact a strange form of passive discipline, the irreversible movements of destined emotion.
You can also watch this youtube clip, to get a sense of the ambiance. (Incidentally, and ever so curiously, there was a photographer from some in-flight magazine who wanted to do a blurb on how Chicago hangs out. So so weird.)

posted by Caroline Picard

Jacob Knabb wrote a pretty sweet little ditty, along with photos from last Saturday night’s event. I’ve included an excerpt below:

King Beer is Wasted: Green Lantern Press hosts a release party for *CLOPS* & *The Wasteland and Other Poems*

Chicago in Books, Readings Archived, Readings Rated by Jacob on Sunday 2 May 2010 at 12:30 pm

On Saturday, May 1st, Green Lantern Press hosted a release party for their current author Devin King’s book-length poem *CLOPS* and John Beer’s ‘best-selling’ Canarium Books release *The Wasteland and Other Poems*. A crowd of around 40 souls attended and were treated to Devin’s splendid singing, a nice sampling from CLOPS, and an experimental poem involving personal favorites Lux Interior and Skeeter Davis (among others). John Beer followed with a poetic cycle from his book (that originally appeared in Another Chicago Magazine #47) entitled “The Perfumed Crypt, or Four Quarters in Eight Bits,” which was accompanied by a slide-show featuring Uma Thurman and a ruinous castle. Afterward, drinks were had, conversations were held, and we were ushered forth into the spring night with red wine and Shiner Bock in our ‘broken mouths.’.

You can read the whole article, along with photographs taken by Jacob himself by going here.

we also got this write up in chicago now about the book release last weekend. i posted some of it below….

Tomorrow night Green Lantern Press will celebrate the release of three new titles. Devin Kings long poem CLOPS, a new translation of Rimbaud’s A Season In Hell by Nick Sarno andThe Concrete of Tight Places by Justin Andrews. I’ve read both CLOPS and Andrews’ book, and there are both quality releases. Given the title of the book I knew there would be some “tight places” discussed, but Andrews finds himself surrounded by bodies, by boarders, by the struggles to survive. The moments that he chooses to describe give the book that feeling of being grounded in reality. What was most fascinating is that he is describing states with countries that I had to look up just to make sure they existed. These are places you would never dream of visiting, but now you have a guide to tell you how to visit and what to look out for. Even when he is discussing the gentler side of Guerrilla Armies you can feel the exotic realism in the work. The Concrete of Tight Places was printed in an edition of 500 with silkscreen covers by Nadine Nakanishi of Sonnenzimmer, this book is an adventure that has its own unwashed and unseen beauty.

posted by caroline picard

On Saturday, May 1st 2010 The Green Lantern will host a book release, celebrating three new titles from The Green Lantern Press: Devin Kings long poem CLOPS, a new translation of Rimbaud’s A Season In Hell* by Nick Sarno and The Concrete of Tight Places, an unusual guidebook by Justin Andrews that provides a“halucinatory tour of the world.” To commemorate this release, you are cordially invited to readings by Devin King and John Beer (Canarium Books, The Wasteland and Other Poems) at 7pm at the former Green Lantern Gallery space, 1511 N Milwaukee Ave., second floor, Chicago IL 60622.

During this event, all Green Lantern Press books will be available at a $5 discount.

*Proceeds from A Season In Hell will go to St. Jude’s Childrens Research Hospital

—about the readers—

As per CLOPS. : Using lyrical language, repetition and abstraction, King retells the Odyssey representing the original characters as surface icons who move in and out of the first person. Implicating the reader in the action of war, King reforms the epic. Printed in an edition of 250 with color plates by artist Brian McNearneyDevin King lives and works in Chicago.

John Beer’s first book, The Waste Land and Other Poems, was published by Canarium Books in April 2010.  His work has appeared in Verse, The Brooklyn Rail, Denver Quarterly, Crowd, and elsewhere.

Other Forthcoming Events at 1511 N Milwaukee (whilst we keep looking for The New Space which will one day (fingers crossed) happen):

Friday April 23rd8pm

As part of the Robert Duncan Symposium, The Green Lantern hosts a reading organized by The Chicago Poetry Project featuring Stephen Collis, Joseph Donahue, Siobhán Scarry and Brian Teare

Tuesday May 4th 7pm

The Parlor, a monthly reading series and podcast, is pleased to have Rob Elder come and read excerpts from his forthcoming book, Last Words of The Executed, (University of Chicago Press, 2010).

May 18th 7:30 pm

Jenny Boully will read as part of The Chicago Poetry Project’s on-going series.

June 15th 7:30pm

Brenda Cardenas will read as part of The Chicago Poetry Project’s on-going             series.

for more information regarding any of these events please contact Caroline Picard at

Where Urbesque Went To

April 16, 2010

posted by Caroline Picard

Last Friday, MAKE Magazine put together an after-party in Denver, CO. A number of publishers and writers were asked to participate. I showed two short films, one about Lust&Cashmere, the other more abstract called “These Are Not My Memories.” In the meantime Devin King (CLOPS), put a tape recording of various people reading, Green Lantern Press authors old and new–Moshe Zvi Marvit (Urbesque, 2005), Erica Adams (The Book of The Mutation of Fortune, 2011/12), Amira Hanafi (Forgery, 2011/12), and an excerpt from CLOPS. That “mix” tape was played on a tape recorder in the refrigerator so that whenever anyone opened the fridge to get a drink of some kind, the spectral voices of said authors emanated out. After the party, we played it again in the street. (See super heroine Jac Jemc in the background.)

posted by Caroline Picard

This is pretty sweet news! You can pick up a copy of CLOPS by going here.

The Orange Spotlight

jason – Posted on 06 April 2010

Last month Chicago’s Green Lantern Press released a new version of Devin King’s epic poem “Clops”. What makes this version unique are the images by Brian McNearney. He brings several images to this 50 plus page poem that add a visual element to this already visual descriptive piece.

What King does through “Clops” is elaborate on the tale of Odysseus and Penelope, but pulls it closer to modern times…to read the rest, go here.

posted by Caroline Picard

The Rhino Festival showcases a host of talent during its annual enterprise. You can find out about all of the various things going on by going here.

That said, The Green Lantern Press is about to release a long poem (‘CLOPS.’) by this gentleman, one Devin King, who performed a “b-side” of his opera project at Elastic last year.

Prior to Elastic, Devin performed a one-man opera with Sean O’Connell  in its entirety at a church on North Avenue. Last year, the opera was about Don Quixote, Phil Spectre’s head, Elvis and a Betty.

This year it’s about Haydn’s head and Madame X. This is the blurb, but you should come!

Madame X Paints Haydn Red

by Devin King

Three people trapped in a recording studio arguing about their debut: “I thought I turned you off…such a historicizing of the echo.” Madame X Paints Haydn Red is an operetta that deals with youth culture stuck in a soundproof room moving between centuries of recording technology: Joseph Haydn’s head stolen by phrenologists; the Jam re-recording the Kinks’ David Watts; RCA color-coding their new 45 rpm records; “Opera is a shoddy refuge for emotional dishonesty.” The musicians evolve with their recording techniques and all the while Madame X paints Haydn red.

Menelaus The Old Goat

September 30, 2009

posted & written by Caroline Picard; all quotations taken from “A Tribute to Freud” by Hilda Dolittle; Image by Brian McNearney.


To and For

of Helen & Penelope

And of the women he put them in respect to himself; and he said the city was for them and he left them behind in his city behind walls and each time he returned from the ocean he examined their teeth, examining their mouths, and of the horse he called a beast, and of the dog he made himself master and the stars he colonized with mathematics defining boundaries and bounds.
For thousands upon thousands of years, Odysseus has wandered through the Grecian islands, forever lost and found and lost again. Confined to the Mediterranean Sea, it may as well have been infinite.

Meneleaus the old goat
Menelaus King of Sparta
Menelaus’ Theorem

Ptolemy used Menelaus’ theorem as the basis for his spherical trigonometry in the Almagest. He set the times and signs of the zodiac, or so says Pappus.
“This little-papa, Papalie, the grandfather.”
Thousands upon thousands of years later HD, formerly Hilda Dolittle, sat on a couch, she stared ahead with cramps in her abdomen. She unwove her fortune to Freud.
“Again, I feel, lying on this couch that sort of phosphorescence is evaporating from my forehead and I can almost breathe this anodyne, this ether.
“Joan and Dorothy are rivals. Subsitutes for my mother’s love. It does not matter who they are.
“In my dream, there is a neat ‘professional’ woman with Lawrence and there is a group of children. Is the ‘professional’ woman a sort of secretary? I acted for a short time as a secretary to my father.
“I envied these women who have written memoirs of D.H. Lawrence, feeling that they had found him some sort of guide or master.
“I was thinking about what you said, about its not being worthwhile to love an old man of seventy-seven.’ I had said no such thing and told him so.

“The Professor asked me to interpret the dream of the blackbirds.
“Freud said the man in the dream had given me womanhood, so he charmed the birds.”
Before she knew any man, Helen broke her hymen with a hairbrush; exploring interior architectures. As a woman, when the city gaped at her congiegal bedclothes, she was quite proud.
“We saw the chapel high on the slopes where it was reputed Zeus had been born, or nursed. The Professor said that we two met in our love of antiquity. He said his little statues and images helped stabilize the evanescent idea, or keep it from escaping altogether. I asked is he had a Cretan serpant-goddess. He said, ‘No.’ I said that I had known people in London who had had some connection with Crete at one time, and that I might move heaven and earth, and get him a serpent-goddess. He said, ‘I doubt if even you could do that.’”
The old goat sat slumped in a chair after dinner. After the war. His head nodded and snapped and nodded again. Until his wife the woman his wife the dangerous woman she wiped the corners of her mouth, rose and elegantly wheeled him away.
Before you could write the rape scene, you wrote about Penelope’s unweaving. You had to let yourself undo yourself
Surprisingly absent for being the cause, Helen makes only a few appearances in both the war and Odysseus’ consciousness. His conception of the war the same as its reality, for the way he recalls all things—memory traces a cool finger along the inside of his arm, the cleft of his back, arousing and pornographic—raising goose flesh, perplexity, dispair. Helen the signifier, the collective unconscious.

The City Opened And Took Me

She walked around the giant wooden horse. She walked around its periphery, in the moonlight, from within the city walls. Stooping a little, she pressed her nose to a fetlock and breathed deep the smell of knotted pine. She breathed deep and whether by smell or sense she sensed the men inside. The night air was cooler than the horse’s side for the side of the hollow horse was full of men who had to breathe and in breathing took up oxygen and in breathing released carbon and in releasing carbon raised the temperature inside the belly of the horse, thereby warming the wood. She chuckled at the thought of a centaur.

Helen put her hand on the side of the wooden horse. It was warm.

The sand on the ground was cool by the moon and it stole into her sandals, cooling her toes and she remembered the sounds of her old life, she remembered the sea. She remembered the dottering old goat in the yard. It always remarked on its face in the  scullery window.

The City Opened And Took Me

Helen has the most least freedom.
Gods aside, she fled the old man with a handsome boy. She stole away, adventuress, inside of a ship. She wore a mask. She wore a hat. She dressed as a boy on board the ship. She made jokes with Paris and in the night he fucked her like a boy it was fun

The men came after her because they needed an excuse to do something.

Helen was not duplicitous so much as she was a child.
It was the very thing they: Menelaus, Nestor, Ajax, Paris, Odysseus, Agammemnon, Hektor, Aias etc., loved about her.
Her beauty was her character her flashing eyes her ecstatic mouth her life her life her life participating in every curve angle cleft of her body mind mood
At home Penelope struggled to maintain a position in the world. From within a city, from within a house, from within a family. She assumed her role, abandoned, threatened. By way of defense she inserted herself in a fairy tale.
She wove a shroud for Laertes—undoing it and undoing time and undoing her work; whether to bide her time before Odysseus came home or
“There was that same theme, that same absolute and exact minute when everything changed on a small passenger boat (as I remember) on the way to Greece. At an exact moment, by clock time, on an exact map, on the way to the Pillars of Hercules, on a boat that was bound for the port of Athens, there was a ‘crossing the line.’ I, the narrator of this story, did not know I had crossed the line.”
Helen walked around the Trojan Horse in the moonlight; the guards watched her. She laughed out loud. She clapped her hands. She talked to herself. Incantations.
The men inside had not heard a woman’s voice in years years years in ten years—Helen called them by name, imagining what their wives would say, the women banished banned from the horse, these pages, this war, Helen pretended to say what they would say. A marvelous game.
Listening to the vulnerable crouching men inside in the darkness in a womb they fashioned all themselves.


Menelaus : At that moment you came up to us; some god who wished well to the Trojans must have set you on to it and you had Deiphobus with you. Three times did you go all round our hiding place and pat it; you called our chiefs each by his own name, and mimicked all our wives -Diomedes, Odysseus, and I from our seats inside heard what a noise you made. Diomedes and I could not make up our minds whether to spring out then and there, or to answer you from inside, but Ulysses held us all in check, so we sat quite still, all except Anticles, who was beginning to answer you, when Ulysses clapped his two brawny hands over his mouth, and kept them there. It was this that saved us all, for he muzzled Anticles till Minerva took you away again.

She drugged the man she drugged the goat.
Repossessed she returned a quiet woman
Sleeping potions.

In Penelope’s wandering tapestry, she sp n a room fu l of flax, the f ax of h r hair into the tap st y, she spun s cr t pa sage , t oughts, she s un t e wo an raped by a sw n  he spun the co rse of her v sions she sp n a g lden ap le, her s cr t contempl tive life, plac d prec rio sly between fidelity and misg vi g, sense a d n nsense sh s un th cl th for La rtes to keep him f   v r you g, h r protect r a d tter ng o d goa she spun a d her f ngers kn t the c ords fi rcely and s e sp n and in th n ght th re was  nly  he s und  f t e l om as in the n ght of HD’s  house t ere  as o ly  he so nd of a c ock as in the n ght H l n c lled  ut t  m n, b rr wing t e voic s of fo got en w v s, as t e sirens ca led out a   he c ty c lled  ut as t e z di c call d o t as p rallel lines called out to one another and met at last at l   t at l st a  d f r ver th  hy t r c  l  wand  i g w mb  om , t e worl und ne w th the s n in th c nt r n t man n t man  ot  man w   b t e w rld r und a l st at la