Thankfully, Jen Hofer is writing on the Internet. Quite a bit. Which from what I can tell did not really happen previously so much. Or at least not in as a direct blog-like format. So you can read her marvels at FuturePoem as she discurses on Alan Gilbert's new book Late in the Antenna Fields and declares a set of instructions for suggested art work:

5. Instructions: Narrative tucks information in.

Arrange the books on the shelf according to gradations of color.

Every day for at least seven days, make a poem, paragraph, painting, performance, sculpture, stitched piece, instruction piece, or dessert, taking inspiration from a suite of three books from the same color-field.

Send documentation of the results to chris@futurepoem.com.

Or, respected reader, you can think her thoughts with her at jacket2. A blog of sorts. A journal of trans positions: in transit: in transition: in translation: in motion: in the between:

I can't think about or through poetic language outside the context of the denial of human rights and the silencing of dissent -- in fact, I'm not sure I can think of anything outside that context. And yet what captivates me in the video of the march demanding the return of Carlos René Román Salazar alive is less the language of the demands (though that too is compelling) and more the edges of the buildings against the sky, the backdrop of mountains, the expressions on the faces of people unaware they are being captured on video, the uneven rhythm of many bodies moving not in unison, the kids who whistle and gesture at the camera, the light mobile against the colored surfaces of walls. That is: it's the poetry that captures my attention -- not exclusively, but also not separate from the more immediately instrumental demands of the marchers.

Keep up with Jen on the Internet. Just try. Craig Santos Perez is also on jacket2. Check the flyness. Fly with that check. I resolve to read the New York Times less and jacket2 much much more.