Circle, hole, point, poem, dot, map, mandala, short letter… you can call it as you wish. The project, started in 1992 and entitled “... circular things”, now reactivated as a daily and non-stop edition in holeart.blogspot.com.
To participate just send a single 10cm diameter paper circle work by normal mail (please do not send by e-mail because of technical problems).
Send to: César Figueiredo / Apartado 4134 / P-4001-001 Porto / Portugal
To catch my breath, to get me landlegs on top of the rolling sea of performance, I often open readings with B. P. Nichol's "Pome Poem (thanks be to UbuWeb for this link to B. P. reading the poem)." This poem always gets my body humming, ready to read. I think of it as a 1970s version of Whitman's "Song of Myself," a thrumming, throbbing, guttural physic/al song. Who can deny the balls of singing that a poem is inside your nose, inside your toes. And everywhere between!