Thursday, March 06, 2025
The Authoritarian Regime Survival Guide. (via Mefi)
"Beefing with Canada is like beefing with Dolly Parton." --@feloniousmunk.bsky.social
"In my lifetime, doing all the jobs that I’ve done, this is the most fear-inducing moment."
On Ending (& What Does Not End).
"There are more cases of measles in the state of Texas then there are trans athletes in the United States." --@transgirlinsea.bsky.social
"MAGIC SHOW (Anagrammed Lines)
This weekend: My stoic magic show.
I wake my witches, demonic ghosts,
smoke wise with many hectic gods—
Something wicked this way comes…."
--@anthonyetherin.bsky.social
Ukrainian Bull, Three Years Old, Went Walking Through the Woods and Garners Strength.
Wednesday, March 05, 2025
The Death of Bowie Gizzardsbane.
"Krasnov's tweets"
burning playground blues
reading outdoors
the cough drop crunching
mission should you decide
injured don't know when
pale dawn sky scoured
with thrist-whirring thoughts
nothing plain as a plan
in my mirror cars dark
headlights blazing under the glare
of golden-girt cacophony
among those who know
"alien atmosphere
in the tennis courts
my house, set apart"
--@poemexe.com
"I have now had three dreams about Luigi."
"Where are the country songs lamenting Long Covid? Where are the angry punk/hip-hop songs protesting our society's lack of action? Where are the folk ballads chronicling our healthcare workers' struggles? Why is there a hole where our culture's heart should be?"' --@maosbot.bsky.social
"Tariff was a word born out of Mediterranean trade."
"NIGHT
The ebb slips from the rock, the sunken
Tide-rocks lift streaming shoulders
Out of the slack, the slow west
Sombering its torch; a ship's light
Shows faintly, far out,
Over the weight of the prone ocean
On the low cloud.
Over the dark mountain, over the dark pinewood,
Down the long dark valley along the shrunken river,
Returns the splendor without rays, the shining of shadow,
Peace-bringer, the matrix of all shining and quieter of shining.
Where the shore widens on the bay she opens dark wings
And the ocean accepts her glory. O soul worshipper of her
You like the ocean have grave depths where she dwells always,
And the film of waves above that takes the sun takes also
Her, with more love. The sun-lovers have a blond favorite,
A father of lights and noises, wars, weeping and laughter,
Hot labor, lust and delight and the other blemishes. Quietness
Flows from her deeper fountain; and he will die; and she is immortal.
Far off from here the slender
Flocks of the mountain forest
Move among stems like towers
Of the old redwoods to the stream,
No twig crackling; dip shy
Wild muzzles into the mountain water
Among the dark ferns.
O passionately at peace you being secure will pardon
The blasphemies of glowworms, the lamp in my tower, the fretfulness
Of cities, the cressets of the planets, the pride of the stars.
This August night in a rift of cloud Antares reddens,
The great one, the ancient torch, a lord amongst lost children,
The earth's orbit doubled would not girdle his greatness, one fire
Globed, out of grasp of the mind enormous; but to you O Night
What? Not a spark? What flicker of a spark in the faint far glimmer
Of a lost fire dying in the desert, dim coals of a sand-pit the Bedouins
Wandered from at dawn . . . Ah singing prayer to what gulfs tempted
Suddenly are you more lost? To us the near-hand mountain
Be a measure of height, the tide-worn cliff at the sea-gate a measure of continuance.
The tide, moving the night's
Vastness with lonely voices,
Turns, the deep dark-shining
Pacific leans on the land,
Feeling his cold strength
To the outmost margins; you Night will resume
The stars in your time.
O passionately at peace when will that tide draw shoreward?
Truly the spouting fountains of light, Antares, Arcturus,
Tire of their flow, they sing one song but they think silence.
The striding winter giant Orion shines, and dreams darkness.
And life, the flicker of men and moths and the wolf on the hill,
Though furious for continuance, passionately feeding, passionately
Remaking itself upon its mates, remembers deep inward
The calm mother, the quietness of the womb and the egg,
The primal and latter silences: dear Night it is memory
Prophesies, prophecy that remembers, the charm of the dark.
And I and my people, we are willing to love the four-score years
Heartily; but as a sailor loves the sea, when the helm is for harbor.
Have men's minds changed,
Or the rock hidden in the deep of the waters of the soul
Broken the surface? A few centuries
Gone by, was none dared not to people
The darkness beyond the stars with harps and habitations.
But now, dear is the truth. Life is grown sweeter and lonelier,
And death is no evil."
--Robinson Jeffers
the wealthiest 1% has extracted $79 trillion from the bottom 90% of Americans since 1975
"We were at war with a dictator, we are now at war with a dictator backed by a traitor."
"I asked the historian,
who studies the dark times,
when we will know
that the dark times
have returned,
and in response
the historian told me that this
is the wrong question,
the right question is:
how do we stop these times,
these dark times,
from getting even darker."
--@plaguepoems.bsky.social
"want to sink into despair? look up any book on domestic abuse in your library app and see how long the wait list is" --@jamieloftus.bsky.social
Always nice to see a mention of Quatuor pour la fin du temps.
"Word of the Day: CRYPTOGYNY - the practice of hiding and obscuring women and their contributions in prestigious spheres." --@helenmaryme.bsky.social
"In the Autumn mountains
the colored leaves are falling.
If I could hold them back
I could still see her."
--Kakinomoto Hitomaro (Rexroth tr)
Here in the mountains
of Autumn the rufous leaves
have started to fall.
If i could only hold them
back--i could see her again.
--my tr.
"knife tariff, irate fink"
& if these aren't phoenix flames
--words like a bird battering
a fixed boundary
like a gleaming glass window
& if these aren't acts
in the gloaming, earnest
& brave beyond bluster
--why is the harg steaming
Hearing Peru get mentioned made me wonder if there's any memorials to Vallejo there, like there are for Pessoa in Portugal. As it turns out, there is a César Vallejo Cultural Tourist Park in Trujillo, from whose website i learn little about V. except that the park has sculptures dedicated to César Vallejo... The website Lima Easy says it opened in 1997 (on his 105th birthday) & one of the sculptures is a life-sized statue of him. And, in 2023, the Lima International Book Fair screened a new documentary; the festival included a computer display: "Using the deepfake and the chatbot, visitors to the fair will be able to ask him questions about his life, work and any other concerns they may have."
& if these aren't phoenix flames, detailed oil painting, hieronymous bosch.
"For a moment I wondered if Trump would leave Congress waiting for an hour and a half as he has been doing to every leader of a nation America is allied with when he meets with them
You may or may not know that the only world leaders Trump does not keep waiting are the ones who commit mass murder"
--@sethabramson.bsky.social
"Cynothoglys Krasnov"
a big wind · rattles the walls
in the dark dividing · dim screen from screen
trees are tossed · when i creep outside
it's not about us · it's not about us
Tuesday, March 04, 2025
Blue Ghost moon landing video.
"Vacuumed up enough cat hair to make another cat." --@mckenziewark.bsky.social
"Wish You Were Here
And disciplinary remains mercifully
Yes and um, I'm with you Derek, this star nonsense
Yes, yes, now which is it?
I am sure of it
So--so you think you can tell · Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field · from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil? · Do you think you can tell?
Did they get you to trade · your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? · Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange
A walk-on part in the war · for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, · year after year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found? · The same old fears
Wish you were here"
--Roger Waters (Pink Floyd)
Relaxing Music in a 1950s Futuristic Dream.
"He claimed Hamlet was the only character/ smart enouigh to have written the play he's in."
orangish-gray sky
ethereal armies teem
rising prickly wind
detours & bad directions
a big old tree split in two
"Word of the day is ‘lickspittle’ (17th century): a person who fawns upon someone in power for personal gain." --@susiedent.com
Monday, March 03, 2025
My Grandfather's Church Goes Up.
"I don’t think this is 4D chess guys" --@kimmysunshine.bsky.social
“Song
I make my shroud but no one knows,
So shimmering fine it is and fair,
With stitches set in even rows.
I make my shroud but no one knows.
In door-way where the lilac blows,
Humming a little wandering air,
I make my shroud and no one knows,
So shimmering fine it is and fair.”
–Adelaide Crapsey
"wedding cake
my wind-bleached bones
the feel of moonlight"
--@poemexe.com
" 'You are not at the bottom of a hole?' asked Toad.
'No, said Frog.
'You are not lost in the woods?' asked Toad.
'No,' said Frog.
'You are not being eaten by a big animal?' asked Toad.
'No,' said Frog. 'Not at all.' " --@frogandtoadbot.bsky.social
"Right now, the right wants a word that stings, and the R-word does the trick.."
The Story of an Artist. (thx to Mercury Child at KNON)
"TYPEWRITER (Top Row)
Typewriter. Top row.
Write your poetry or quote.
Tier your repertoire."
--@anthonyetherin.bsky.social
Wish You Were Here. (ditto)
"God-Emperor Krasnov"
Krasnov's kryptonite · accrues slowly
it's not about evidence
sky unchanged · chiselled subfusc
no one knows what i know
fighting kites · cold narratives
i keep on changing lanes
Krasnov has ketchup · with his breakfast
no one knows what i know
Sunday, March 02, 2025
"Krasnov on Sark"
black Merlot · & plenilune
wanion Yalta · not until the year
battens on losses
apple-sized cup · curse spent
since sentences · rolled right up
gave us more losses
black Merlot · in an iron lung
"i love the protean & viral nature of queer slang like i’ll go 'queen out' with my trans lesbian friends and then later hang out with a bunch of dolls and watch them queen out and realize our lesbian queening out is kinda like how the vatican is a country" --@woifekisserr.bsky.social
What string quartet cycles from after 1940 should I listen to?
"The longing imps grasp tomes of old
And rant therefrom each damned one's name."
--Betelguese: A Trip Through Hell
tarn alunissage
Vegas sin
ulan rat
"Stars, I Have Seen Them Fall
Stars, I have seen them fall,
But when they drop and die
No star is lost at all
From all the star-sown sky.
The toil of all that be
Helps not the primal fault;
It rains into the sea,
And still the sea is salt."
--A E Housman
"Chance of World War III within the next year according to the Becca Metric (March 2, 2025): 46% (🔺4%)" --@silly.bsky.social
"When cattle go into a palace they don’t become the king, but the palace becomes a barn’."
"There was a moment in time when Twitter was truly Borges’ Babylonian Lottery. It was strange to live through that together, wasn’t it?" --@saintsoftness.bsky.social
On the way to a fold & dissolve model of hybridism.
"Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for thelips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion."
--Ernest Dowson
Broadcast and Pathways Through Otherworldly Villages.
Saturday, March 01, 2025
equivocal winter
& warble intrinsic
when antlers find entry
& minds their torment seek
"A German word for being embarrassed by the actions of someone else is Fremdscham, or 'foreign shame.' A similar word from Icelandic is aulahrollur, which is quite tricky to translate but basically means something along the lines of 'cringe quake' or 'douchebag chills' " --@adamcsharp.bsky.social
"This epistemic chaos wasn't an accident—it was a crucial tactic in undermining democracy itself." (via @joriegraham.bsky.social)
Yaw a Yalta gat layaway.
"the one great source of the date clusters"
disgust 'gainst · garbage binge
patter on windshield
make it change · chockful of shrapnel
whirlwind the long way
these beige streets wind · bitter silence
never forgiven
i watch the falling · i watch the falling
"The Short-toed Eagle and the Ladder Snake consider each other, unseen
Ripple of summer barley,
his fine high call, over
the hollow bolus of an olive tree.
Tongue-tasting the day, a mother coils
in tight, glue-eyed, ready to shed
her everything. This cool, grey-laddered girl,
these jewels, this bowl of quivering silver pearls."
--James Mcconachie in Bad Lilies
"Hold now, O earth, · what heroes cannot..." (via @rhunedhel.bsky.social )
Sword Nemesis, emend rows.
When you lose the Daily Mail you are a global pariah.
"I lowkey want to chain myself to the doors of the National Weather service" --@katewagner.bsky.social
How David Lynch Saw the Bright Side.
"East of Eden
I am tired of tidings, tired of linings, silver,
lead. For a little while, let it be the mundane
that stretches as far as the eye can see.
Give me the field of goldenrod nothing dates:
no architecture, no infrastructure. No burn off.
This time, if something must smolder
in the distance, let it be the sun. If something
must change, let it alter by pattern or else
so slowly no one thinks to call it news. This field—
keep us out of it, the tells of our haircuts, the cuts
of our clothes. For a little white, do not admit
even the ghost of a nightgown to dry on a line."
--Jane Zwart in The Dodge
"What you saw is mad[n]ess - madness like kind George III madness..."
"new moon
she adjusts the ring
that isn’t there"
--Frank Hooven via
"The original Sanskrit term cited by the last guy to usher a world-destroying device into history, the story of which delighted tens of millions of middlebrows throughout the Oscar season of a recent past —who seem still to believe that history itself is one giant biopic—, is कालः, which can mean 'Death', but more generally means 'Time': Krishna identifies himself as Time/Death to remind Arjuna of the all-pervasive force that consumes all things, and foils the vainglorious ambitions of all mortals. This is Time as simple duration, but we can also understand it, and are compelled by current events to understand it, as history. The revolution that has left us with a thoroughly memeified politics has indeed destroyed a world, if not yet the world (Krishna himself does not assume that there can be only one of them)." --Justin Smith-Ruiu
"If Zelenskyy is ever invited back to the Oval Office I fervently hope he wears a T-shirt with 'TECH SUPPORT' on the front." --@benstanley.eu
"I recall the myriads of birds in the cage of my head..."
“INTO THE FURROWS
of heavenacid in the doorcrack
you press the word
from which I rolled,
when I with trembling fists
the roof over us
dismantled, slate for slate,
syllable for syllable, for the copper-
glimmer of the begging-
cup’s sake up
there.”
–Paul Celan, Breathturn (tr P. Joris, 1995)
"I haven't heard one of them demand."
move over Benedict Arnold
Krasnov is on a roll
allies are flummoxed & charnelled
homies can't find the grassy knoll
"minnows
hands waving
gawking at flowers"
--@poemexe.com