upROUTE: A Recording

Composed in the summer of 2016 and published as a chapbook by rob mclennan’s above/ground press in 2017, upRoute is a collection of the alphabetic portions of license plates collected around the area where I lived at the time. The plates were recorded while walking with pen and paper and by photographing with phone, and dictating to ipad while driving. Having collected the plates, I composed them into grids in order of appearance. The final step was a translation of the textual noise. In the initial two sections I let Microsoft Word auto-correct the grids into words. Beyond those first two I employed homophonic translation with increasing liberality. By the last few sections I attempted to introduce a grammar.

Originally, the full title of the work was ‘upROUTE: The Language of Plates as Markers of Path’. For whatever reason, when rob published it, Markers of Path disappeared. So be it. It doesn’t much matter, except that the notion that led me to this title was the temporal mapping of my walks/drives via the placement of cars which I passed. I loved the idea that these plates acted, for a moment, as landmarks–and given an hour or two, many would shift to new places–landmarks which at any moment entered transit.

Here is a recording of the work:



A Recording Of ‘Dishwashing Event, Part One: Tianjin, China’

A number of works which I have published over the last few years have been performative texts. Whether or not I originally composed them as such, while reading them at various venues they have revealed themselves to be, in fact, texts to be performed. One such text is my Dishwashing Event, Part One: Tianjin, China, published as a chapbook by No Press in 2006. Absurdly, there have been no recordings of my performances to date, and so I have begun to rectify that. Here is the first recording I offer. It is of the above mentioned text, Dishwashing Event, Part One: Tianjin, China.

Artist’s Book: umo

Last year I picked up a book that had been sitting for some years in a plastic storage container filled with some of my books in my grandparent’s basement. I knew the book was in there and had eyed it as a potential site of work. Where it came from, I have no idea. I certainly never bought it, nor do I have any recollection of it being read to me as a child. The book is an illustrated children’s story relating the tale of Jumbo the circus elephant; this elephant’s claimed joys and sorrows. How much truth found the page, who knows? However much, I think it’s safe to say that it isn’t a beautiful existence to be a caged animal. Look at us, house bound, screen bound, etc.

Since first considering the text a year ago (perhaps more) both of my grandparents have passed (nearly concluding the generations preceding my own in this family tree), and the book and the container that housed it finally migrated into my own basement where I do much of my visual work, as well as the majority of the labor involved in the production of works for Simulacrum Press. After having circled the book for a period of time I decided to create an erasure text, and to guide the erasure would be the prisoner’s constraint. The prisoner’s constraint consists of the the writer avoiding all letters with ascenders (b, d, f, h, etc.) and descenders (g, j, p, q, y) within the text they are writing, presumably to save precious space on the limited material available to the theoretical prisoner. Having decided this, I proceeded to erase all the words in the text which transgressed the constraint. It was only slightly later that it occurred to me to engage with the pictures which accompany the text. Where with the text I removed, with the pictures I added to. Each picture became a collage. With some I only made minor interventions, a single addition, others more layered. The result is umo.

Read the electronic version here:


Gil McElroy’s ‘Sum: Word Maps’ – A Review

20180209_125814Sum: Word Maps, composed by Gil McElroy during the early 80’s, and published by Cameron Anstee’s Apt. 9 Press in 2017 is a quiet book of visual/written information. As the title suggests, the pieces are a series of maps, each map a word regarded in its placement among the alphabet set out in a simple grid, a-z, displayed in two lines. It was, according to McElroy, a dissatisfaction with a lot of visual poetry he had encountered in and around the 70’s and early 80’s which “struck [him] as trite, especially by comparison with what visual artists … were doing with language”.

When I picked up Word Maps from Anstee’s table at the Small Press Book Fair in Toronto at the end of last year (2017), the soft noise of the light grey alphabet grids which appear on each page, the black of the letters scattered throughout the grids drew me in. Without having any inkling what was happening within the pages of the book, the only slightly varied (at first glance) visual information was already being processed, my imagination filling in (reflex) what might be occurring on the pages.


Cameron and I spoke about the book and he mentioned that unlike the enthusiasm which I immediately showed, another not long before had made the comment that the work, the presentation, was a gimmick. I get the feeling that people say gimmick when work finds unfamiliar form, and when perhaps, the poem doesn’t perform an expected routine.

What is a gimmick? The Merriam Webster Dictionary defines it as,


1 a : a mechanical device for secretly and dishonestly controlling gambling apparatus

b : an ingenious or novel mechanical device : gadget

2 a : an important feature that is not immediately apparent : catch

b : an ingenious and usually new scheme or angle

c : a trick or device used to attract business or attention


Without beating around the bush, I’m going to make the assumption that gimmick was used in the last sense, a trick or device used to attract business or attention. So, what’s the gimmick? And what is the unsubstantial centre that makes a gimmick necessary?  If the trick or device used to attract attention is the grid form, then stripped of that one would be faced with words, floating on the page, chosen for no apparent reason, which we would read as some poetic constellation of juxtaposed images/notions. But that would entirely defeat the purpose of Word Maps, which seeks to “see words – the purely visual unit – differently, to strip away anything hinting of meaning, connotation, metaphor … and consider the pure artifact”. It seems to be a gimmick only if you think visual poetry’s a farce.

Not that the work entirely succeeds either—at least where the author intended. The more cursory the glance, the more the work achieves the purely visual unit. But, I find that the work does succeed when the reader doesn’t assist in the effort to evade meaning. The initial encounter with these poems is one of facing scaffolding. If the reader decides to stop there, so be it—but the natural impulse, it seems to me, is to investigate which words are in fact being used. How can one resist deciphering once the journey into the work has begun? And once the words begin to come together, isn’t the natural next impulse to wonder just why those words were chosen? Read and one finds palindromes (kayak), words which use the same letters so that they mirror each other on the grid, despite their difference (angle/angel), and further linguistic choices which create visual patterns.

If the grid is a map, it is also a playground, and only by actively entering these arenas of play and engaging the rules of the game can the purely visual unit be appreciated, when, the moment the reader takes a step back, all recognition of the words and their meanings again collapse into the scaffolding. The reader can struggle the words into order, but paradoxically, the rigid grid bounces them back into noise.



All quotations taken from McElroy’s afterword, After Words, in Sum: Word Maps.

Guerrilla Poetry & a Gallery

So, Words Fest in London Ontario… It happened. It happens every year. This was my first year attending the festival and I returned from it with pictures, a t-shirt and not even a slight hangover. It was my good friend Jaime Brenes Reyes who invited me and asked me to participate in the annual Guerrilla Poetry event of which he is one of the organizers. There were a slew of events over the weekend, but I made it to only the Guerrilla Poetry reading and the well attended open mic.

In past years, the Guerrilla Poetry event has spread throughout the city of London, finding choice locations where various readers would set up and proceed to read works of poetry in the open air to all who happened to pass, free to read their own works or the work of others. This year, unfortunately, the attendance was low, and as a result it was decided that the readers would not spread across the city (which seems to me to be the entire point of the event) and instead all readers took turns reading works from atop a stout wall in front of the London market. It happened. The timid poetry that was read could barely be heard above the racket of passing traffic and the music from the market. There were two “sets”. I read, along with about 5 others, during this set, from my new chapbook upROUTE (above/ground, 2017). I had to laugh. A woman who had taken control of organization, but who was not an organizer, after listening to me read, perhaps naively sincere, or, hopefully, with misplaced condescension, said, “Oh, you’re playing with words!”. “Yes,” I replied with a shrug and a nod, “That’s what poetry is.” I got the sense if we met again, we would not be friends. She did not invite me to read during the second set, quickly dismissing everyone when it would have been my turn to read. Like I said, I had to laugh. So, Guerrilla Poetry, it happened, but certainly didn’t live up to its name.

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After that, Jaime and I headed over to the Museum London (where later, the open mic would be held). The curator had, I assume, aligned the choice of work with the occurrence of Words Fest–and was it by coincidence, how perfect. The exhibition that both Jaime and I were drawn to was Robert Fone’s “Signs | Forms | Narratives” on until December 10th. Much of Fone’s work, selected for this exhibit, dealt with text, be it word, sentence or letter. In some of the work, the word was nearly illegible so that it straddled drawing, calligraphy and your everyday semantic text-to-be read. Other works focused on the letter, presenting large, heavy seeming individual letters, on the face of which were images so that the viewer was presented with letter as object and object pregnant with the articulation of the world. But look for yourself,

There were a few other pieces that grabbed my eye, but unfortunately I can neither remember nor find the name of the artist, so the images alone will have to do,

Later that evening was the open mic. When I arrived almost all the seats were filled. Estimating from memory, there were about 80 – 100 people in the audience. That might be an over-estimation, but in any case, it had a superb attendance. At the back of the room was a table where the readers could enter there poems into a zine that will be published. I usually jump at the chance to read when the mic is open, and this time was no different. I spoke to the organizer and had my name added to the long list. As most of the seats were taken I established myself at the back of the room and set to listening.

Open mics are great opportunities for anyone to share their work with that portion of the population that turns up. But let me say this, slam poetry stinks. I personally can’t stand it, which means nothing to no one, but I state it anyway. It is certainly a legitimate form of poetic expression, I’m not challenging that. Amateur slam poetry, when it slams into my ears, is intolerable. It doesn’t slam so much as timidly approach–only to complain. Please, please, rise above the complaint and write something which uses the difficulties and complexities of living to create something more than whining. Teach us, challenge us–teach and challenge yourself! There are endless ways.

As an aside, this puts me in mind of a poem by Andrew Nurse, in which he expresses his own sentiments on the art of slam poetry in a poem titled, Slam Poem, a Slam Poem,

After swigging wine from a water bottle and listening attentively for the first set, and making it through the featured reader, I’d pretty much had my fill–of slam. Unfortunately, I left after the end of the first set. So, I didn’t read, and frankly, I’d lost the desire. But even this asshole writing here didn’t come away with nothing. There was a young girl of maybe 9 or 10 who got up onto the stage, with her mother for support, and read a poem that she had written that was really unbelievable for one of her age. She went beyond rhythm and rhyming and complaining–and delivered the hands-down best poem of the first set. She employed a simple technique where end words and phrases acted as pivots for the following sentences–and her reading was fantastic. Whoever you are, little girl, keep at it! And thank you.

On the Obvious

Is it always obvious when you see, hear, experience good art? Let’s not go there. That conversation goes on forever and forgets that the essential lack of an agreeable answer is the empty heart which drives the mess. But we do judge. I’m concerned with the evaluation when turned inward. When thrown out into the world of statements, the humbling beauty and achievement, when thrown out into the fecund exuberance of creation that meets our own bumbling efforts. We compare.

Alone, always, usually, and almost never, submersed in the self, how we practice and hone our skills. It is something to have pride in, our practices as varied as our sameness. And then we think we are good. Opt out if you do not wish to be included (simple as that).

I. I play guitar–and I try to play guitar–and I try to play guitar better. I feel rather good when I play. When I play with another, I feel pretty good to be playing so well. Time passes and that sweet lull of confidence measures one’s stature on the streets among the crowds, among peers. The sky participates–at least, it makes no objections. It agrees by silent ascent. But I’m not yet talking about the obvious.

The obvious, in this case, the case that occurred and has often occurred, which propels these words, was that sledgehammer of performance. Knocked me down. Oh, right, I am not good. Here is the performance:


I cannot listen to this, watch the fingers of Matteo Mancuso, a musician I’ve never before heard of and only came upon by chance, I cannot be present with this music and say, it is not good. It is obvious–that it is good. And then I turn inward (you’ve done this also? who would have thought?). My playing… my playing… my playing. I might as well put the guitar down, for christ’s sake. This defeatism was instilled sometime early on. And how hard it is to break a habit! But, this attitude is both ignorant and harmful (not the bliss form of ignorance). It has taken me 32 years, minus a few for infancy, to learn what is not obvious (though most think it is): even though markedly less skilled than someone, than many, to define one’s practice (here, specifically, a life in art) in a reactionary area of phantasmal absolutes, is… not to understand creation before institution.

I am far less talented than Mr. Mancuso–and how I love to play guitar,




Readability, Noise & the Visual: An Interview with R. Keith

After having read a few titles by R. Keith, and having followed his work online and occasionally catching it in journals… I decided it would be a good idea to do an interview. It turns out it was a good idea, though my skills evidently need sharpening. Thank you for enduring me, Robert.

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R. Keith is a persona that works with visuals, texts, poetics, fiction, and exophonic writing. He is the author of four collections of poetry, and five chapbooks. His collection of Visual poetry Chicken Scratch was published in 2017 (eyeameye books) Forthcoming is his 1st novella in 2018.


This interview was conducted on October 15th, 2017. 

SA: Sacha Archer
RK: R. Keith

SA:         Okay. Let’s do it.

RK:         Hit me.

SA:         First of all, it is certainly normal to have a pseudonym on Facebook, but I’ve noticed you’ve changed yours a number of times since we connected—plus, correct me if I’m wrong–you recently legally changed your name?

RK:         Yep. I was born Robert Keith Swereda. I just dropped my dad’s last name, he wasn’t a part of my life. I wanted to change it for ages, I thought it’d be a lot of paper work that I wouldn’t understand so I never got around to it until last year. The process was actually quite easy, just time consuming and I had to visit several different places to get documents, notary, signatures, etc. because I was born in Alberta and live in BC now. I published a few books under my birth name. I thought it’d be difficult to start publishing all over again with a different name, but I had no trouble. I publish as R. Keith now.

SA:         I can certainly relate to having a last name connected to a person who—one’s not connected to. I’m curious if you see any connection between this concern with naming in relation to your writing.

RK:         It’s like carrying something around that doesn’t actually belong to you. I found out after that a person can legally have just 1 name (like Prince, the musician) I should have done that instead. But imagine the grief trying to travel and your passport has just one name…
Not sure what you are asking? Changing my name didn’t really affect my writing or publishing.

SA:         Okay, fair enough. I recently read your chapbook, Phon Phon, published by The Blasted Tree. I find it a very difficult text, and I love it for its extreme difficultly. How do you imagine the reader engaging with it? Do you consider it readable?

RK:         I imagine the reader trying for the 1st page then taking it to a used book store to trade for store credit because they couldn’t understand and got frustrated. I learned Brazilian Portuguese and speak Canadian English. The text comes from a phrase book I found at a Value Village. For British English Speakers to learn European Portuguese. … There are differences in both phonetics. Think of the way a British person would say “shower” the -er sounds like “ah” … and European Portuguese is so different to Brazilian, some Brazilian movies are subtitled in Portugal. Brazil uses different words, like Xicara is Cup, in Portugal it’s Taça. … in Portugal and Rio de Janeiro, they say S like sh, outside of Rio it’s like the S in English. …so using the phonetic examples of both the languages is a double Brain Fart for me to read.

SA:         Let’s make clear what’s happening in the chapbook. On the first page it says, “Exophony is the practice of writing in a language that is not one’s mother tongue. Phonetics is the study and classification of speech sounds. This collection of poems was constructed from phonetic examples of British English into European Portuguese.” So, in theory, the reader should be able to sound out the text and find themselves speaking English, yes? With what you’ve just said in mind, of course.

RK:         Hmm… If they keep in mind the British and Euro Portuguese sounds. The 1st piece, 3rd line “er vosh” would sound like -a vOH-sh. (a voz, the voice). “noo mer ser per ter ree er” is Numa Sapateria (in the shoe store).

SA:         So is the reader articulating English or European Portuguese? I’m still not clear on that.

RK:         The Euro Portuguese sounds. I’d be interested to hear someone who had no clue about either to try to read this out loud, though.

SA:         You’re not making this easy. That doesn’t clarify it. Is the reader articulating Euro Portuguese sounds which combine to give English words/phrases?

RK:         The phrase book was for British to learn EP phrases.

SA:         O.K. Now that I’ve revealed myself as a complete knucklehead… would you agree that this is a book of poetic noise?

RK:         Probably all my writing is noise, poetic or not. I enjoy work that gives me WTF moments. And looking at languages and trying to figure out any meaning. If there is any. Another example is the piece Language Arts, in Chicken Scratch.

SA:         Yes! I wanted to bring that up in relation to Phon Phon. There is a strange sense in Language Arts of a conscious angle of naivety and play which makes the piece possible. You looked at characters from different languages such as Chinese, Korean and Arabic and wrote the images you saw in the characters. Your work is often visual. Do you see Phon Phon as visual also?

RK:         You could say that Phon Phon is a collage of texts. I cut text out of the phrase book and reordered them to resemble poetry

SA:         Only resemble? At what point does the semblance become the thing itself?

RK:         idk, I just work here. Since I work with poems, text, and also visuals, I wanted to create pieces you could look at, or into, but still appear to be stanzas, so it could be labeled as poetry. And create a bit of familiarity in all the WTFness.

SA:         Once the reader becomes exhausted from reading through Phon Phon (I read through it a number of times which, frankly, hurt, in the best of ways) the visual collage aspect is something to be with—especially when viewed on The Blasted Tree website where there is the colour of the original.

Now, in your opinion, what is the state of vispo today? Do you think it’s going anywhere, or has it reached a logical conclusion?

RK:         South America, namely Argentina and Brazil have a ton of fantastic visual poets. Just through Facebook I’ve gotten exposed to tons of great vispoets from around the world. If there were a conclusion to be had, would it even be logical? For myself, the state of vispo is lively, I’m still relatively new, and discovering the community. And learning by creating.
I can see some people thinking of it as just Bad art. A certain magazine lost its government funding after putting out a vispo issue some years ago.

SA:         Wow. Do you recall which magazine?

RK:         Hahaha, Filling Station. It happened just before I joined when I lived in Calgary. I think it was 2010 or 2011.

SA:         The Canadian government will legalize weed, but won’t put up with vispo! No surprise there, really.

Who are some contemporary visual poets you would recommend?

RK:         Luc Fierens, Gustav Morin, Pascal Verjil, Sam Roxas-Chua, Bruno Neiva.

SA:         Awesome. I also love Sam and Mr. Morin. Sam Roxas-Chua often posts exposés of his work on Facebook accompanied by music. As you said much of your work is noise, and I’ve seen more than a few pictures of you with new guitars, how does music effect your work? Or, what music influences your work? How does your own playing effect your work?

RK:         It’s another creative tool. I’ve wanted to record my poetry over top of my music, though I hate the sound of my voice, and I get this Ben Stein mono-tone drone when I read out loud. That’s why I don’t really preform at many readings. …I usually have some music playing at home, and if I’m trying to write I’ll have earphones in to mask any other noise so I can concentrate.

My 1st book re:verbs had some pieces that were inspired by Leo Brouwer’s music. His solo guitar compositions have this crooked angual sound, I wanted to visualize this with text. I used the titles of some of Brouwer’s pieces as stating points for the poems.

SA:         I don’t know him. I’ll check him out. How about Derek Bailey?


How would you describe the music you create?

RK:         Lately I’m into improvising, using loops. I’ll piddle around on the fretboard until I find something I like, loop it, piddle around more over top. Maybe start on bass, loop it, then switch to lapsteel or guitar. I bought a Spanish Lute and a fretless bass recently, trying to figure out what to do with those.

Derek Bailey is the shit! I love the —play guitar like you don’t know how— vibe.

SA:         Right? I would love to hear some of your music. If it’s anything like your poetry it would be worth the time. Any recording being done, even casually?

RK:         https://soundcloud.com/user-330756086/sets. I have 3 soundcloud pages. I used to post on youtube ages ago.

SA:         Great! I look forward to checking it out. I heard you have a novella coming out soon. What’s that about?

RK:         Ugh… it takes place is rural Alberta. Influenced by some events real, imagined, totally fake, or maybe what I wanted to happen. It’s pretty much What’s Eating Gilbert Grape with a sad ending.

SA:         I just downloaded that to watch with my wife, Rui. She grew up in China and hasn’t seen any of the Western classics. Gilbert Grape is a classic now, yes?

What’s next for you in poetry? Any idea? Anything in the works?

RK:         I’m looking for a home for an MS of poetry, another of some aphorisms, epigrams and more exophonic writing. Talking to a small press about another collection of vispo. I started another project in the summer and got to 40 pages and I’m letting it marinate for a bit before I add at least 20 more pages.

SA:         A title we should look out for?

RK:         Wild Rose Country is the novela title. Airy Nothings is the poetry MS. Some Little Pricks, is the epigrams, aphorisms & exophonic texts.

SA:         Something(s) to look forward to! Thanks a lot for taking the time for this interview. It’s been a blast.

Phon Phon can be purchased or viewed here.

Chicken Scratch can be purchased here.