Marty Hiatt

Marty Hiatt is from Melbourne. He most recent chapbooks are the manifold, hard-line, and festivalize this.

a moving permanent con

a moving permanent con juncture moving in me daguerrotype sprite in 8bit landscape whose nails are flakes whose taut gauze of self with shit for thought sees other streamer ones graciously cut thru stone to relay what is common trying …

Posted in 83: MATHEMATICS | Tagged


otherwise we degenerates just bumble about. big holes still in my mouth. i also felt like there were just more weirdos getting around i cried multiple times i was so nervous i was almost falling over and could feel my …

Posted in 78: CONFESSION | Tagged

Danielle Collobert’s Survie

Danielle Collobert’s Survie is a sequence of six sonnetoid poems written and published in 1978 shortly before her suicide. The title is ironic: ‘survie’ means either the state of remaining alive after an event or in an environment that is normally fatal.

Posted in ESSAYS, TRANSLATIONS | Tagged ,

blood & co.

certain trace elements remain stalked by monumental plastic bags the venal serpent has so many moving parts! but worrying about it is sound inspiration, featuring pannikin set on pate & talc on gormless elbow file some excess weight from the …

Posted in 69: TRANSTASMAN | Tagged ,


beyond the ouroboros all the roads are parallel we lean out of windows at speed for love im not clever with the copula im a slumpy fuck feigning in the fen (worlds swallow worlds) they suggest a new facemask. wot …

Posted in 64: CONSTRAINT | Tagged


got sick and ached and forgot who i was was lost with my usual lunch haunts closed quit drinking discovered sarsaparilla fish n chips on the pier when the cool change hit desired bikes, awesome old racers guilt an essay …

Posted in 62: MELBOURNE | Tagged

Reading Apollinaire’s ‘Vendémiaire’

There are too many things to say about Guillaume Apollinaire’s ‘Vendémiaire’, and all of them must be said at once. The title is the name of the first month of the French Republican calendar (1793-1805; 1871), which was taken from the Latin vindemia, ‘grape harvest’. The common term in modern French, ‘vendange’, stems from the same Latin word. ‘Vintage’ technically expresses this sense in English, though it is unfortunately obscured by other ones. Another possible rendering is ‘The harvest month’.

Posted in ESSAYS | Tagged ,

The Vintage | Vendémiaire

Translation of Guillaume Apollinaire. Please read ‘Reading Apollinaire’s ‘Vendémiaire’’ by Marty Hiatt. The Vintage People of the future remember me I lived during the eclipse of kings One by one silent and sad they died And such was their valour …

Posted in POETRY | Tagged ,

on paper, this was not New

but most of the whining, marine or democratic, carried some crazy morale and issued endless havoc and enough food for scurvy to sailors. bone and gristle at table bay. the fleet spared no one each week, made most tyranny stupid, …

Posted in 56: NO THEME II | Tagged

3 Translations with Notes: Laforgue, Soupault

Jules Laforgue and Phillip Soupault are two poets with very little in common, especially when considering the early period of the former. Laforgue’s early work relentlessly circulates around an unremitting metaphysical anguish (the poet himself would refer to his ‘poèmes philo’), a sort of bent continuation of the Romanticism of a Lamartine, with the difference that if in Lamartine nature, rich as it is, is a site of absence, for the young Laforgue it is patent that nature has already kicked the bucket – so there are no verdant dales through which one might wander while pondering the retreat of the absolute: no site of retreat and meditation remains.

Posted in TRANSLATIONS | Tagged , ,

Three Poems by Marty Hiatt and Sam Langer

home tunnel game approaching all get-out fried afternoon fright great wing of gulls as a clump of eyes in the mail sadness of cubes rejected their networking lens, nevertheless their reflex worlds that meet & part amber in the sky …

Posted in UNIVERSAL ARCHIVE | Tagged ,

apell I’ll 11 shreds

no pulse I touch I do jagger flash hung upside to switch an other for internal monologue will our glasses ever clink it’s a race with tea “do you eat when I’m not there?” what does coal feel like? chewing …

Posted in 49: SYDNEY | Tagged