"A Sonnet in Linear B"

The bad Hyades
rose over a pavement veldt.

Like a plague
the mute subordination of the rapt crowd.

What the generous gods would dictate
first they ring with mirages umgang.

The void is a madonna,
its altar Tlaloc.

Plywood-windowed shopping centers, cinnabar
or smaragd.

Graywyvern will not eloign
to the mutiny of Pachelbel.

Interpretation of the ceremony with veiled references to ExtremeProgramming.


English-Hotcak.


Conlang Sound Zoo.

A parallel tradition.


"The poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot." --Ashbery


My right front tire is destroyed by a hidden pothole, turning left from Beltline onto Walnut in Garland.


"Otakar Svec, the [Stalin] monument's sculptor, chose an obscure electrician from the Barrandov film studios as his model for the late Party chief. The electrician, who earned the nickname of 'Stalin' for the rest of his short life, became an alcoholic and died three years later. --Aaron Hamburger, The View from Stalin's Head (2004)


At the Denny's next door from the tire place, an easy listening version of "Everything Counts in Large Amounts".