FizzPo



FizzPo: A poetry that constantly reaches the precipice of off(s)ense -- a state that so thoroughly overloads the senses and sensibilities that it offs them -- but instead of crossing into it, reroutes the whole approach.

This is a poetry that meshes with a very modern style of interaction, wherein we skim for what slices us, but abandon the blade once we receive the signal. We're not even left with a paper cut. We're left with that white smudge of heat. A poetry that operates through hyperlinks, so hyper it never actually links.

This is an abstract structure, this essential "99.9% bang + abandon" equation that underpins FizzPo. You can orient this effect around the line, and from there, the line as any combination of visual or sonic unit. Or you could abandon the line. It doesn't really matter. But consider: to coax the archaic line into such magic, that's pretty fucking rad.

And it is important to accept and indulge in your colonization of feelings and source gunk. You blaze into the house, start to redecorate it, and right before it gets amazing, you go on to the next house. In this way you produce one hell of a neighborhood. This is a poetry of strange neighbors, disunited and still sworn together. We're not out in the woods, building new houses while everyone gawks. We're using what we're among.

FizzPo. Skittish. Jubilant. A million slender hallelujahs bouncing between shoulders. A pinball slipping right past the most secret pit and almost in, an almost enough to illuminate presence.

FizzPo is the poetry of strobe lights. FizzPo is the poetry of granular light.

FizzPo is the poetry of a hyperactive heart machine awash in the new light of fractures.