Th* N*w Gr*at Gam*.


Ivy.


"Must learn to dance our diseases."


"its smells, its mill. Victims
that had been Heavenly Blue
· tubularlord · Iliad
sideways and slips
while silence than today nine are all
looked up to see sparkling
kills the world, power. told
a tune at twilight.

[lines in italics by Robert Trammell, 1939-2006]"

--Camill* M**sh


(via worldroom dot com)


     "To Whom it May Concern (after Adrian Mitchell)

            You put your bombers in, you put your conscience out,
            You take the human being and you twist it all about
        Hey, how do you like my GM SUV?
        No, I make my payments: it belongs to ME
                  So encase my feet in Nikes
                  And feed me lies about
                  The working class
        I look to the mirror and what do I see?
        An aging stranger who can’t possibly be me
                  So blight my face with Botox
                  And feed me lies about
                  The working class

        They never taught me anything at school
        I’m grown up now and I ain’t nobody’s fool
                  So tatoo my skin with another’s totem
                  And feed me lies about
                  The working class
        I put my earplugs in, I put my good eye out
        I go to AWP and I fake it all about
                  So buy into my book of poems
                  And feed me lies about
                  The working class
        They taught me much too much at school
        I’m wiser now and way too cool
                  So parry my eyes with pop-cult
                  And feed me lies about
                  The working class
        I keep my game face on, I keep my kind heart out
        I go to conferences and get cozy with the crowd
                  Who prison my tongue in poetry
                  And feed me lies about
                  The working class
        Encase my feet in Nikes
        Blight my face with Botox
        Tatoo my skin with another’s totem
        Buy into my book of poems
        Parry my eyes with pop-cult
        Prison my tongue in poetry
        And feed me lies about
        The working class"

--Chris Dani*ls


"Being situated at the head of a desert peninsula jutting into the sea, the city [Baku] is in fact one of the windiest places on earth--one dapper ninety-seven-year-old man told me how, as a young man, he and his family had worn specially made goggles with their evening clothes to stroll along the boulevards without being blinded by the sands." --Tom R*iss, Th* Ori*ntalist (2005)


On my victrola- Omar Faruk T*kbil*k