Glenn Bach

Atlas Peripatetic, Walking, Sound, and Place

Glenn Bach and Atlas Peripatetic

Glenn Bach is a poet and writer whose long-running Atlas project grew from Atlas Peripatetic, begun in 2003 from the sounds of a morning walk in Long Beach, California. His work draws on sampling, remix, erasure, field observation, and practices associated with visual and sonic art to investigate place, memory, landscape, and movement.

The three preserved poems here—“42,” “75,” and “121”—belong to that early Atlas Peripatetic phase and appeared in Issue 23. Birds, bodies, skate vocabulary, anatomy, and close listening move through the sequence, giving physical motion a compositional role. Readers interested in related approaches can continue through experimental poetry, poetic forms, modern poetry, and the wider contemporary poets archive.

Three poems from Atlas Peripatetic

42

the flurry of birdsong and a whipping of marks
   that grow louder and more precise

   stronger and more exact
the invisible choir of throat and basin

with the gust of the song of the bird
   the choir of the throat of the bird

   the choir of birdthroat and beaks
camouflaged in the foliage

of ficus microcarpa   Indian Laurel Fig
   the flock of birds in proportion

   to the flurry songs of bird
to the troop of birds and the straw fire of song

75

   blind transfer
          of air over the

            spine   but first
                  the vert stalls

 in the mini-
      air   grinding air

   on the extension
            in the fish eye

         view of the stucco
          wall ride you kick

     grab and grind
         50-50 in this

backside air   front-
         side air   head

           planted   ass planted
            and transferred

        to wall ride stalled
           bench

—it was a fluke
     the reverse hoop

         in the alley   grinding
                    plates to a toe-

       stop, the death
           of a kiss—

two feet   one foot
    grab   stall   plant head

        bail    watch me
        hurt myself   not

                   quite   but I love
                     my helmet

               and sometimes
          the wheel bites back

121

bird very close
feathers forelimbs hollow bones
very close these beaks without teeth

brushing away particles
very close for the cloacal kiss
in less than a second

breath traveling in one direction
oxygen the same inside as out
these passerines

these song birds
these perching birds so close
I can touch them through the tangle of leaves

through the thicket of green
through the singing tree
through the warm blood

Place, sound, and the expanding Atlas

Bach’s current account of Atlas describes a project that has continued to expand from its Long Beach origins into a long poem shaped by significant places in his life. The preserved Issue 23 texts show an early stage of that larger practice, where observation becomes arrangement and the material of ordinary movement enters the poem at full pressure.

For further context, see Glenn Bach’s Atlas site and the historical Great Works archive, which also records Atlas Peripatetic and its walking-and-sound origins.