Saturday, March 05, 2005


Singing Guitars.



"Cinema's hundred years appears to have the shape of a life cycle: an inevitable birth, the steady accumulation of glories, and the onset in the last decade of an ignominious, irreversible decline."  --Sontag, Wh*r* th* Str*ss Falls (2001)

"To this enthusiastic throng, Nicholas II was still Batiushka--the 'Little Father'--who answered to God for their well-being. These lower classes blamed the pain and suffering they had borne for so long on men who had failed to serve the Tsar as they should, and they felt certain that their Batiushka would right the wrongs they suffered if only they could tell him the truth. The masses had believed this for hundreds of years, but that, too, was about to change." --W Bruce Lincoln, Sunlight at Midnight (2000)

Friday, March 04, 2005


No crimson-butt baboon can
walk across this briny drink
with or without faith

with or without might
with or without truth.

No crimson-butt baboon can,
no crimson-butt baboon will.
Unpopular artforms count, just as any minority group's customs and way of talking count. It is crazy to submit all things to that logic in which voting picks a singular champion, with many who will thus vanish. A truly natural winnowing allows spots with unusual survivors, and this shows us what bards might aim for.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

"Rash author, 'tis a vain presumptuous crime
To undertake the sacred art of rime;
If at thy birth the stars that ruled thy sense
Shone not wih a poetic influence,
In thy strait genius thou wilt still be bound,
Find Phoebus deaf, and Pegasus unsound."

--Boil*au's "Art of Po*try" (tr Soam*) in: The Art of Po*try (ed Albert S Cook, 1892)
    "Lost Worlds of Langpo"

Automatic tusk atoll logic
ambit cairn

straying dim acorn
starwork lustrous assumptions skittish hazaj

italics foist sly blood glut
sob aglow firm

Wednesday, March 02, 2005


the cliff notes said so

for I do not come after you

I just came and now must wait a while

thus Paris Hilton gets to be in the poem

& livejournal teaches us about the kitty

a vague memory of getting wet

history books ain't written by the conquered
& you only get to name your kids or pets
objects succumb, at peace with being pushed out
so when the poet said pubic hair

I imagined her pubic hair

which only her husband gets to see

a list of things to say to the steady cam

the uneven distribution of particles

upon your face / some damage

falling in sunbeam at departure
because they used every beautiful thing up

the Jem'Hadar surrender also the dirty ocean birds

despite our manifestos teach us to humor
the elders we must bear

black flag, please twist above the mall"

--Th* Jim Sid*

Daught*rs of Ummo.
    No Guts No Morning Glory

turd burglar graduating
adjunct abandon

dugout growl
aggry sloom maroon briny igloo

crinoid lapidary idiom rugby
bardo stump gild snood

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

An album that is "47 Ursa* Majoris".
Sign and Sight. (via ALDaily)

Infamous visitors swarm now.
A blankly gazing labyrinth falls into array.
Solitary kibitzing. All is army,
all is war, all is patriot, all is gray.
A show that only fools us for an hour
and soon that hour has flown; sugar bombing,
as smirking impostors strut and flail this sour
data smog, city sick, fib aroma
soaks it all, it's acting, bad acting, surrounds
dogs who applaud. Across a troublous world
claws uprip its grounds
with garuda might and dizzying whirl
aggry-straying will, our loss past figuring:
ignorantly proud and proudly ignorant.
"There is, undoubtedly, a good deal more echo of other men’s work in “Owen Meredith” than was either necessary or wise."

"Designers and engravers of the highest order of ability have expended with prodigal spirit their skill and ingenuity in the illustration of this work."

Canon. (via Moss*s from an Old Mans*)
Chi*f Long Lanc*.

Vagrant sanctuary. Garuda
contrails guiding long
past this train running out of its own-laid track.
Pallid indigo traiking
Wispy path
into a day without words
and our mapmaking drugs us to know
ordinary caladiums burrowing,
liquids carrying.
Long ago i ran with witch
saw dawns on a cold, difficult road.
Now garudas follow chanting songs of war
and a still calm waits
in shadow.
I am swift with its abnatural
glidings. And to watch
is to know instant ruin,
morning built up out of torn cars lost gladly;
iron and bad music.
or only fog, so i swink
till an actual blossoming, and garuda
land on a spot of known paradox.

Monday, February 28, 2005

Th* Owl Hous*.
What's up with Judit Polgar?

" 'There is not this and that. There is only this, that, and the other. Always find a third,' Valentine would say." --Tal*s of Val*ntin* th* H*r*tic
Click and Clack and No-Frills Books.
    "Crystal Sandstorm"

Crawling orchids sang
owllight blurry Fimbul angst

iguana botch urn activist whirring bilk
idolatry asana ostrich

indigo agama borrow awl
Illig glim

bildar, ogygian whisk

Sunday, February 27, 2005

"hitler: a ball that never made it out of the bunker" --L*t the Big Dog *at: A Dictionary of th* S*cr*t Languag* of Golf