”Apology

A word sticks in the wind’s throat;
A wind-launch drifts in the swells of rye;
Sometimes, in broad silence,
The hanging apples distil their darkness.

You, in a green dress, calling, and with brown hair,
Who come by the field-path now, whose name I say
Softly, forgive me love if also I call you
Wind’s word, apple-heart, haven of grasses.”

--Richard Wilbur (1956)



Inf*rnokrush*r. (via Goblin M*rcantil* 3xchang*)


37.

pasigraphy walking as · I agrypnotic grom baggy
apply ghastly typical · twinkling caracul slalom
skim winch an orgival sandcoil · is gibbons faring



"Freaders will realize that it's been a long time since The Astute Gelepanos became a parody of themselves. So they're going to do it again. And this time, they're going straight to laserdisc."


"We have mostly killed the shamen, their rites and languages. That's why it's important that artists should be inventing new rituals, new forms, new strangenesses."