John Wilkinson, 'The Failure of Conservativism in Andrew Duncan's Criticism'; Marianne Morris, 'Squeeze' and 'Enlisted'; Sean Bonney, 'Notes on Commitment'; Peter Manson, 'Between Cup and Lip' and 'Nothing, meniscus, virgin verse...', after Mallarme; Jow Lindsay, 'Irony and Sincerity in John Wilkinson's Reverses'; Chris Goode, 'Cot death linked to womb dream'; Josh Robinson, from work in progress; Keston Sutherland, 'Four Theses on Speed'; Stuart Calton, from The Bench Graft; Theodor W. Adorno, 'A final statement on the ideological implications of the unconscious, from 'The Concept of the Unconscious in the Transcendental Doctrine of the Soul', his (rejected) habilitation thesis (1927), trans. Matt ffytche; Herbert Marcuse, 'Disappointment', trans. Keston Sutherland.
Chronic relativism is a thing of the past. But acute relativism is still up and about and able, depending on the looseness of your joints, to make sense of things and thus to compact and box-up and scar them; and still likely, depending on your degreasing agent (e.g. cyclic ether), to make that sense of things glow faintly black like a star. Poetry in its relation to politically effective action--you know, action, what acts are--is at a dreadful ebb. Structuralist theorists of reading are underwritten by the Western ideology of consumer rights, the prerogative of the indignant shopper to pick and choose what she buys. Ascetic tunnel-visionaries don't want to buy very much, thankyou. What to do instead: proclaim the existence of a free hermeneutic capacity, cross-matching the chips and parings of significance that matter (materially), whip these up into whatever beautiful half-impression of a resistant attitude you feel most comfortable with, and be thankful that this wasn't bought but that you produced it yourself. The half-life for sex elimination is 59 min (plasma) or 48 min (urine), nurseth hir whelps. Arrange to meet this relation in a dark corridor.
There must be, the locution is a good one, more to it.