Terri Witek

Terri Witek is the author of Exit Island, The Shipwreck Dress, Carnal World, Fools and Crows, Courting Couples (Winner of the 2000 Center for Book Arts Contest) and Robert Lowell and LIFE STUDIES: Revising the Self . Her collaborations with Brazilian visual artist Cyriaco Lopes have been featured in galleries or site-specific projects in New York City, Los Angeles and elsewhere. A professor of English at Stetson University, her summer faculty positions have included the West Chester Poetry Conference, the Prague Summer Literary Program and the DisQuiet program in Lisbon, where she runs “The Fernando Pessoa Game.”

Work by Terri Witek

Terri Witek

How to Build a Homemade Phonograph (Ariadne and the DJ)

                                                                                        For Erik DeLuca 1. You are making a funnel but don’t go in. 2. Roll so one end’s wider.                        Do I tape this thing? 3. Yes. Now pierce the small end     w/ your needle. 4. Allow half-an-inch     to stay on the eye side. 5. No, it shouldn’t move.     Tape. 6. Snap a pencil in half.                        In half? 7. That’s the tone arm or base     (let’s call it the base).                       Are you in a car? 8. Yes. 9. Duct tape one pencil half     (eraser end up)     to the cardboard square. 10. No, so it stays straight up.                       Where are you going? 11. OK, take the ...

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Terri Witek

At World’s End // Double Album

1. The hemispheres, parting equatorially, deflate in darkness, cool, then spin. “Don’t follow me,” a last, pegleg pilgrim mutters, purrs or hums. What’s next? “Donna Summer” bolds the signage at one oasis, formerly Antarctica, no one reaches. “Air raid,” hisses the space around a central glinty totem who, classically aloof from me + you + her + him but doomed to hear it all again, turns and turns like any god faking rescue or couvade.   2. No strobe from the second lighthouse which, since waves and world have fused, ditched its keeper. Are there natives? What would anybody breathe here, fossilized, as they seem to be, in black macadam (feel it give)? At least what we loved lies here together. Unreachable. But something ...

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