Saturday, December 09, 2006

←My pic on soft furry cloth (photo via JR)

Condign. (via Tom Tomorrow)

(via //pharyngula dot org)

"To bedew harebells
On the spoil-heaps of quarries."


   "Biology of Amphibian Tumors"

Targum garnish armory
agonist such imp
agnostic varnish ordinary
input silk
as shadowy landfall arabic Umbrist
pools orchid
nyctalops dancing

   Not to want what you can not obtain:
   Most difficult, most important thing.
And, to find out how much and how much only, that you actually should go for.

--This from a wight owning myriads of books (and still buying).

Friday, December 08, 2006

(via p*rsonal dot psu dot *du slash faculty)



Pallid dust on my hands and torn skin. Work. Past and to find tomorrow. Dust.


  dry Wyrd iridium spar
twin kvint monotonous shargar
  on no account a full rout
tor loaf tunic nano doorspout
shargar sugar only of snow
    binary shadow

"Although we are at war with terror, fashion magazines say we are sunny now. We wear bright colors and choose moral clarity. While I was waiting to get a blood test last week, I read in a newsmagazine that terror must not change our sunny disposition." --Mary Gaitskill, V*ronica (2005)

Watching Patti Smith clips on Youtub*.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

"That was what, ultimately, war did to you. It was not the physical dangers–the mines at sea, the bombs from the air, the crisp ping of a rifle bullet as you drove over a desert track. No, it was the spiritual danger of learning how much easier life was if you ceased to think." --Agatha Christi*

Th*ological Dictionary (via wood_s lot).

R.I.P. Kari. Plus.

   "Mahi Mahi"

Shard basic
built raucous in whining dark
nor dilatory your curtain of basalt

bark thick wizard trap
rain mask is ritual it grows from myth
migrant grout

grins among thorn wind (blind anagram)
ultion Iliad shining in a vacuum

I find "mahi mahi" on food lists; cannot bring to mind right now if it is dolphins, or only dolphin-ruinous. Or is that boycott past? What if i know wrong?

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

"For the first time in two decades, I could experience these poems as I had originally written them."

Talk to Luna.

On my victrola- Funkad*lic: Maggot Brain




We heard the dead leaves rustle
As we walked down the path;
And you would go to Endor,
But I was bound for Gath.

We lingered where the roads forked,
Then parted at the last;
For you would know the future,
And I would drown the past."

--Harv*y Wagn*r Flink

"...the Native [Venetian] tongue--i confess I love the sound of it, like Latin gone rosaceous and soft as butter--..." --ibid

Touch wary mimosa still
go though it bring fury still

ilka karst is slivovitz
spiralling from Gray's still

lunar unicorns gambol
avariciously, sough still

not only a bard trots drab
gossipy Norns yarn wrath still

Minions surround, happy laughing, busy with ruin. It is my own snarl that looks awry. Could i run away with what i want to hold from ruin? Ruin follows: in my running, in my scorn of minion companions.

Languag* W**k at th* Kirch*r Soci*ty.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

by Ludwig M*idn*r (via graphicwitn*ss dot org)

""Cartoon music," as it is pejoratively dismissed, has rarely been granted the respect it sometimes deserves." Plus.

"Some vileness in us makes us scorn and wound
   The shapes of flame for which our spirits yearn."

--Frank B*lknap Long


Probing winds from four airts moan,
dusts snow about shard a moon.
Among old buildings curls main
road as thy small cinnamon.

"Airt" as winds' compass origin. I found my tracks back on a path of old days; what is not as in that lost duration but my knowing? Knowing so, it is that only spot again for a sad mind. What a grim wind carrying black snow.

Shall a chav qabbalah
carry this rash shawabty?

Shark arcana, carbolic,
crunk town coasts to Xibalba.

"...and yet what is hidden is not destroyed, while what is patent may be." --Th* 3v*ning Land

On my victrola- 5,000,000 by Dr*ad Z*pp*lin

Monday, December 04, 2006

"Nero made a regular habit of disguising himself as an ordinary citizen and wandering out into the city at night and engaging in robbery, assault, rape, and murder. Reports of the effectiveness of his disguise vary, but there is agreement among historians that Nero occasionally encountered resistance, whether his subjects recognized him or not."

Strang* Horizons.

it flows · its tag is shadow
top atavist · whining cloud
room of a still spool · pillbug
stilb psalmist · story basalt

"Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
   Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
   The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them,
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
   Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

For none of those I write, and none of these
   Could read the writing if they deigned to try:
So may they flourish, in their due degrees,
   On our sweet earth and in their unplaced sky.
If any cares for the weak words here written,
It must be some one desolate, Fate-smitten,
   Whose faith and hope are dead, and who would die."

--Jam*s Thomson

Always four shops i must visit on my shopping round, why not a singular trip i ask, why in this shopping Valhalla so poor in kind ways?

Sunday, December 03, 2006


"Any man who has once acclaimed violence as his METHOD must inexorably choose falsehood as his PRINCIPLE." (via wood_s lot)

to dub blank wall Xibalba
ply a yoga Xibalba

this ant spill cup of sugar
slag's aroma Xibalba

await ryotwar bowl now
croon tiki blood Xibalba

"Xibalba" as occurring in a cool but dumb-ish film by Aronofsky just out now.

   "First Snow

The cows are bawling in the mountains;
The snowflakes fall.
They are leaving the pools and pebbled fountains;
Troubled they bawl.
They are winding down the mountains' shoulders
Through the open pines,
The wild rose thickets and the granite boulders,
In broken lines.
Each calf trots close beside its mother;
And so they go,
Bawling and calling to one another
About the snow."

--Charl*s 3rskin* Scott Wood, in Th* Oxford Anthology of Am*rican Lit*ratur* (1938)

All frail humans in a killing city, waiting for sky or door to finish this vigil. Dissolving as snow in a patch of sunlight. Crying out. --This is what i carol if i carol.