Saturday, November 18, 2006

alas
(via *thio*mbassy dot org dot uk)


Bad Santa
without his minions

to kill and maim on command · now awaiting
hanging · but how many still

who would follow a killing command
a bunch still

of willing hands · who would not know what to do
without God's bidding


"In Korea all poems were meant to be sung." --P*t*r H L**, C*l*bration and Continuity (1979)


"When did you get the idea to do a Carnival of Souls remake?"




"It did give me an idea for a theme for a class.: A Horrible Death--The Fate of Idealists in the Wild. We would watch Grizzly Man and and read Into the Wild."


Anatomy of a Nightmar*.


N*w Ag* Manhattan. (via cipango)


Friday, November 17, 2006

alas
(via godd*ss dot com dot au)


Rummy.


"In a poem of Theocritus a goat is eating something. Look up what he’s eating in a Greek-English dictionary. The definition is "a plant eaten by a goat in Theocritus." " --Isola di Rfuti




alas
(via dccomics dot com)


"One modern example of that impulse concerns the Seattle Troll. Large enough to hold a VW Beetle in one hand, staring out of a single, glassy eye, the Seattle Troll lives beneath the Aurora Bridge in Seattle's Fremont neighborhood. He was originally a work of art funded by the city, but he has become something more. He has become a "Work of Art" and now receives offerings from passersby and neighborhood residents.
The day I visited-not a special day, just a weekday like any other-the Troll was supplied with an amazing array of offerings. There were fresh flowers, smoked almonds, jewelry, coins, jams, a bag of ripe cherries, a whole watermelon, a bright pink-orange slab of raw salmon, a whole Dungeness crab, a bar of soap, a pack of cigarettes, two coffee mugs, and two t-shirts. These offerings were fresh, too-the flowers and food as yet unwilted. At first, it looked like someone had temporarily left their picnic, but no. The votives were carefully arranged upon the enormous hands of the Troll. They were clearly presented, and no picnickers were to be found. The items were offerings, nothing less
."


"we are the vampires of empire

we can eat cherries in winter

we can fly anywhere"


--Judy Grahn


Th* Man Who Would B* King.


Thursday, November 16, 2006

"In the span of three years, Iraq has surpassed Vietnam, in the totality of the circumstances, as a perpetual burn whose scab will continue to be pulled off by the shame of what America did to Iraq, by the embarrassment of such apparent failure, by the geopolitical suicide it committed in Mesopotamia and by the severed image of the nation in the eyes of the world." (via wood_s lot)


"Prose is not to be read aloud but to oneself at night, and it is not quick as poetry, but rather a gathering web of insinuations which go further than names however shared can ever go. Prose should be a long intimacy between strangers with no direct appeal to what both may have known. It should slowly appeal to feelings unexpressed, it should in the end draw tears out of stone." --H*nry Gr**n in An*cdotal 3vid*nc*


"Kalusa is not listed on wikipedia. and i might be wrong, but i think it's the first unplanned conlang. the kalusa corpus is created one entry at a time by any user. each entry must have an english translation. then other users can vote on the acceptability of the entry."


alas
(via asiminy*ri dot com dot tr)


"...when there’s an overflow of high-end mimicry, of Pottery Barn avant garde, readers need to see work that risks more than its gloss."


Th* Glass Books of th* Dr*am 3at*rs.


Christian Goth.


"...are you still Christian
when you wrap it in plastic
..."




"Incidental

Requisite sources move
Not quite the thought perhaps
Availability loosens to adagio's own
Stowaway too large
Though soft unto
A circumambiance spread
Left-right-left ago with mantra after
Mourning to behest
In fair-game justice furled toward
Laps to fathom"

--Sh*ila 3. Murphy


Wednesday, November 15, 2006

alas
(via z*alandpublishing dot co dot nz slash Holiday_stori*s)


Azif tzompantli · fishhook
uffish going azury · to Umbrist spoor

harp anchor
stars show wink afar

night is char · why follow · go
skulls you affix · of billowing ash


Burn a Copy of Frog Town.


"or echo endlessly
or numbingly decay"

--Zachary Appomattox


A 13-part diapason.


On my victrola- Boys for P*l*




"At the start of the next century our descendants may very well look on Christianist tribal areas as exotic & primitive places for specialist research & eco-tourism."


Buddhism Without B*li*fs.


"Flipper stared into the abyss only to hock a lugie into it."


A history. (via Long Story Short Pi*r)


Monday, November 13, 2006

    "She Came and Went

As a twig trembles, which a bird
   Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent,
So is my memory thrilled and stirred;--
   I only know she came and went.

As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven,
   The blue dome's measureless extent,
So my soul held that moment's heaven;--
   I only know she came and went.

As at one bound, our swift spring heaps
   The orchards full of bloom and scent,
So clove her May my wintry sleeps;
   I only know she came and went.

An angel stood and met my gaze,
   Through the low doorway of my tent,
The tent is struck, the vision stays;
   I only know she came and went.

Oh, when the room grows slowly dim,
   And life's last oil is nearly spent,
One gush of light these eyes will brim,
   Only to know she came and went."

--Jam*s Russ*ll Low*ll


By Duty Bound.


Sunday, November 12, 2006

Australian Philosoph*rs' Song.



Goblin box
absorb glowing nib
insular obtain box oxroim upon abs

is this front about aggry claypit
box twisting basis ingot
I and I abroad am ongoing


"After dwelling so long in the secondary and peripheral, it begins to seem major; then the tertiary beckons. But the tertiary melts into everything you never looked at, and you lose yourself in an infinite world of beguiling, interchangeable things." --Parsifal Mosaic, Cthulhu This V*ry Hour (2006)


No actual paganism can form, without a strong rooting in its local matrix; most of all, it asks that this knowing also contain much unknowing.


"In Britain, the headline over the Guardian newspaper's lead editorial read, "Thank you, America." "


My Big Fat Sup*rnatural W*dding.