Tod Thilleman with artwork by Bill Jensen

Paperback Edition
ISBN 1-886350-94-9
Eight by Nine, Perfect Bound
64 Pages

Entellechy is an art book, extra wide sized, good for coffee tables, coffee houses, museums, bathhouse, your house, wherever! If you dislike poetry, this has fewer poems than most poetry books and has pictures; if you like poems these are ovidean
dense and cartesian deep.

Some of these poems first appeared in Boxkite (Australia), Bullhead, Talisman, Pavement Saw, LVNG, Nedge, Estuary, Alea, Situation and House Organ.

Tod Thilleman was born and raised in Racine, Wisconsin. He moved to New York at the age of 18 and worked for a brief period with Pace Editions. After ABC NO RIO,
the abandoned Williamsburg waterfront, paper-making, the typewriter, protests and marches, the guitar, Reagan and the 1980's, he started the reading series at CBGB's 313 Gallery on the Bowery. In addition to this book, he is the author of Wave-Run and The Corybantes (Spuyten Duyvil), A World of Nothing But Nations (Hive), The New Frequency (Ma'arri), Wallpaper & Lightning (Hive), 1988: An Artist's Diary (PNY|MEB),
Between (Jensen/Daniels), and Blank Verse (PNY|MEB).

Bill Jensen is an internationally known artist who has recieved a CAPS Grant, a National Endowment Grant in drawing as well as one in painting, A Guggenheim fellowship, an American Arts and Letters Award and has many other achievements. A full biography can be found at http://www.cheimread.com/jensenbio.htm

The critical mass in Thilleman's verse is related to differentiating between the empirical and the objective, between a proved and an apprehended object: between categorical and quantitative distinctions, the old paradox about the chicken and the egg, which came first, the game of halves.
--Stephen Ellis

try as you might to snuff out this light
strangle dull philosophy
terrible tenderness's head-gear
brittled embrace
no-blood's trace.
                 So it was that silly god whose war of waste
made plain man's misery belch noose-niggling
weak-willed born blind effable subtraction
the hand a mother held obstinate
cunning alarm of a doubling beat.
                 So now why urge me on and out
toward nothing we must from nothing
again subdue.


that was wave brought women
where we lined the shore
lost in surf's wash amazed eyes' glazed
event as if they'd never been.
       Now the possible's approached
and desire once distant works in the world
we might measure satisfying deed AND title.
       What picture is
owned, operated, maintained, repaired
her interest's pace of sense loud
environs a primal octane.