published commonly, no no no expounds an experimental poetic offering, both text & art.
each issue features a limited edition artwork. which can be tacked or framed or stored in a drawer.
celestial in nature, no no no takes the form required, and necessary.
The second poetry collection from artist, curator and writer Hana Pera Aoake. The book begins with a placenta placed into a Pohutukawa tree and spirals out across manifold interrogations and anecdotes of the poet’s life. the poetry harnesses a vibrant decolonial commentary on the life/death cycle:
“Bodies that span the past, present and future
It’s non linear, omnipresent, human and non human”
The poetry maps ways in which the lived and living memories of colonial histories are held, endured and warped inside one’s body, which is to say the whole Earth. “Pain and age are knotted together” she states. In many ways the book attempts to illustrate a delicate symbiosis of all living and non-living things, yet localises the pain and joy which manifests from these systems within her own life. The poetry asks how ideology changes the way we love, parent and make art.
Hana Pera Aoake expands these cyclical frameworks of flux and impermanence across her otherwise diaristic and witty verse. Hana Pera Aoake writes on sculpture, anger, labor, detention, greed, genocide, the ocean, the family, sovereignty, sanity and love. The writing spares no opportunity for irony and opinion, housing articulations of political dreaming within a resilient and potent humour. The book is generous in its exploration of Māori belief systems and indigenous solidarity as much as it is on rhythmic, free-associative verse. An exciting and expansive collection of poems.
published commonly, no no no expounds an experimental poetic offering, both text & art.
each issue features a limited edition artwork. which can be tacked or framed or stored in a drawer.
celestial in nature, no no no takes the form required, and necessary.
Rachel Schenberg, Jordi Infeld
This book emerged out of a collaborative writing project that began in 2020 in response to The 3:15 Experiment. The ‘experiment’ involved a group of poets who, every August, would write nightly at 3:15am from wherever they were. It began in 1993 with six poets (Bernadette Mayer, Danika Dinsmore, Jen Hofer, Kathleen Large, Lee Ann Brown, and Myshel Prasad) at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics (Naropa University, Colorado), then continued every August for 22 years, with the group growing to over 25 poets, participating from various time-zones. Four of the initial poets—Mayer, Dinsmore, Hofer, and Brown—compiled The 3:15 Experiment (Owl Press, 2001), a selection of their middle-of-the-night writings between 1993-2000.
This edition builds further on this practice.
"We started thinking about a reading and writing practice that is shared but still divisible, divisible but not subtractable. The structures created by synchronicity, repetition, and temporal constraint felt generative. We found that these structures produced the conditions for another logic to emerge, a night-time logic. This night-time logic gestured to a different kind of self perhaps, a self somewhere between a waking-I and a sleeping-I, a self emerged through habit. After all, logic is just a habit.
This nightly rhythm has now become a yearly ritual: every October we’ve returned to this shared practice. As Jen Hofer says, it’s just “to see what is there. Merely what is there, merely to see.”(2) The poems in this book have been compiled from our first batch of 1:53’s. We edited them ‘together-together’—together trying to attune to each poem’s internal logic, while also trying to locate a collective voice that (we hope) textures throughout.
(Certainly) any writing idea of Bernadette’s is one worth pursuing. This book is dedicated to Bernadette Mayer (1945-2022), and the certainty of possibility her work opens up to us."
on nmp.16:
english, chicago screw, folio cover, 148 x 210 mm
first edition, edition of 115 (numbered).
the second poetry collection from Natalie Briggs titled ‘FLOWER ENGINE’. This collection of cinched, bright free-verse explores the passing locations of love and the slow, private operations of pain’s knocking counterweight. The book extends Briggs’ relay of concise universal suggestions, translating them through brief, intimate utility.
published commonly, no no no expounds an experimental poetic offering, both text & art.
each issue features a limited edition artwork. which can be tacked or framed or stored in a drawer.
celestial in nature, no no no takes the form required, and necessary.
A book in two halves, Kissing Other People or the House of Fame opens with a sequence of poems that roam the grotty, sublime streets: patting rats, reading pamphlets, enduring labour, acquiring falafel, waving to friends. Then the book flips on a seam and invokes Chaucer as an unlikely guide through a series of dream-blocks, each autonomous yet resonant with attachments and perversions as they come and go, repeat and echo. The book is as staunch as it is warm - one arm extended in a hug and the other cupped over the mouth to shield a secret (weapon).
Kay Gabriel is a poet and essayist. With Andrea Abi-Karam, she co-edited We Want It All: An Anthology of Radical Trans Poetics (Nightboat, 2020). She's the author of A Queen in Bucks County (Nightboat Books, 2022).
Sint-Lucas School of Arts Antwerp
The human eye is designed with a flaw that is common to all other vertebrates: we have a blind spot, the punctum caecum, a small patch on the inside of our boisterous orbs of vision with no photoreceptors. A blind spot can also be psychological or social. We tend to be biased towards situations or people we cannot fully ‘see through’. How can we enlighten our blind spots? What kind of artistic practices can inspire new readings of history, art, music, or even politics?
With contributions by Bent Vande Sompele, Pierre-Antoine Vettorello & Stella Nyanchama Okemwa, and Haseeb Ahmed. Design by Ward Heirwegh. Chief Editor: Zeynep Kubat. Editorial Board: Mekhitar Garabedian, Caroline Dumalin, Saskia Van der Gucht, Paul Hendrikse.
