Saturday, April 03, 2010

"The Gods of SeaTac"

i would have liked to do nothing the
attosecond orero
coupon weekend game
plan a language only of vowels
start the washer come
back in an hour and the clothes are still dry
wall flower thousand deep threat
bare bodkin
dull · sitdown beat nickel odium

song of the dwelling just one place
in a consonants-only language

saffron moon at dawn
G P S with woman's voice
tells the river where

as we jolt through a school zone
watch my car in the mirror

"Many writers have felt, like Pound: Why not invent an art form that will permit me to put all my life, all my thoughts and feelings about the universe, directly into a work of art? But the trouble is, when they've invented it it isn't an art form." --Randall Jarrell

I Walk Like Jayne Mansfield.

Three-Logic, finally, is not a syllogism but a response to the world. When ingrained, it takes the form of: a preference for triads in analysis, refusing to uphold tribal boundaries (Us vs. Them), "else also" in response to given dilemmas, an abiding sense of the mysteriousness of the world, and an unshakable faith of the validity of the imagination.

Friday, April 02, 2010

"Nor iris of the frail and lunar bow" -Smith

"Worry Bead Museum"

collect pictures of breakage
tomorrow that will turn to structure
that doesn't end in purchase
to have said something
lost on the solitary air
and goon saying

and watch it keep

the cry went out
so i stood there
the call was for scissors
but i didn't care

tweezers not scissors
made the wrong kind of poet
in this epic debacle
who'd limn & intuit

some face for the gazers
& now they will goggle
tweezers not scissors
with scant honeyfuggle

O maybe it's banzu
but certainly chirg
in skugry to tweezer
a scissor's fey darg

Prophecy from 47 Ursae Majoris.

Selenium Ghosts of the Eighteen Seventies.

Thursday, April 01, 2010

"Closed Casket Days"

the same girl only red-haired

the part that i care about
was for you not to worry
small pocket garden
in the land of bright neon apocalypse
which is just
the size of any meaning past or future

shards of self-hatred still
some deeply interior vision
leading perhaps
to insight perhaps not

i'm sorry
we are not responsible
for lost articles

for the people
in that place of torment
do they want it wrapped in rhetoric
in superstition in advertizing
this is not about your nunytcu
to have said something

among the land mines
& their brazen silences

"Some of the government agents and inquirers swore the ignorant populace did really believe that, with the discovery of a new Word, everything in the world would be explained. A wild pamphlet did actually appear, in which the writer argued with insane ingenuity that, as all modern publicity and popularization consist of concentrating a book into a paragraph, or a chapter into a sentence, so at last the whole truth about the present problem would be concentrated into a word. Crowds of impatient malcontents were adjured to Wait for the Word; and apocalyptic visions were provided, of the scenes of world-change that would follow, when once the Word was spoken. The Word would contain in itself, it was gravely asserted, a complete plan of operations and an explanation for the whole organized strategy of the revolt." --G K Chesterton, Four Faultless Felons (1930)

Thriving, struggling, suffering.

"...from 2005-2008 the Koch brothers pumped in double the amount that even Exxon spent on undermining climate action over the same period." (via Metafilter)

"In these more recent stories about Hissa Hilal, however, the framing suggests that what is important is not so much how she does what she does...but what she wears." And: "I have seen evil..."

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

"From Dream... To Reality"

whether these troubles are over
in a hundred
or in a thousand years

songs of teenage lust
& the need to find a slant on the chaos
that looks seems like purpose

for an hour
or a day

just to get through that djedi

like i do
at times when these pluja thoughts
look like so many spinning ice floes to walk

headline crashes
teeth of the Symplegades
across on the path of the raging aurora borealis

the stars are se gusni jipno
of leaves
in the dark ricygri of the sky
my love for you is the dark tsani
it's the burden i carry

so when you suffer i don't
is that it
it's not something we share?
could you not stay awake
for one hour?
is the hour up yet?
the dark furling
under pressure of the dawn
is that a kind of magic too?
tomorrow i will hardly
even walk crooked
through the tents of the refugees
and the refugee-dug latrines

a dimness of noon
the interior castle
ending at a set time

as will this roll of complaints,
their triggers, & the whole noise

"When the animate powers that surround us are suddenly construed as having less significance than ourselves, when the generative earth is abruptly defined as a determinate object devoid of its own sensations and feelings, then the sense of a wild and multiplicitous otherness (in relation to which human existence has always oriented itself) must migrate, either into a supersensory heaven beyond the natural world, or else into the human skull itself--the only allowable refuge, in this world, for what is ineffable and unfathomable." --David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous (1996)

Shhh. (I'm the dude with the hat & the sideburns :)...)

Cthulhoid snack-food.

Naming Fomalhaut b.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

"Sonja had come to treasure poetry, during the long marches between flaming cities. On the deadly, broken roads of a China in chaos, in the teeming refugee camps, she had come to understand that a memorized poem was true wealth--it was a precious work of art, a possession that could not be burned or stolen." -Bruce Sterling, The Caryatids (2009)

Whose thoughts outrun the hour, enfold its tangles now;
snares, mapmaker's troth busily mining.
Catalogue of all-defunctive dreams & plans,
what comes next is born of proceeds from disgorges from other womb.

I learn, at last i learn & if i squint into
the road ahead, it is with stoic sharp clenched heart
that i continue where i hardly see, & a wind
of no well fine bodings pushes back my hair.

Smogpunk. (via Docbrite)

"...because there is no workstation
it does not see you. They must modify your life span
." (via Silliman)

Monday, March 29, 2010


you flee without a clue
of my role in the fray
nor know how much i do
to speed you on your way

O HoĆ¼rs where we win
or lose what can be won
the viewless paladin
alone with just a a rusty gun

and yet at times i still
hold teeming such escape
as calls the tribes of will
a rattling of crepe light crepe

"The Balkan war was not caused by ancient ethnic hatreds. It was caused by the economic collapse of Yugoslavia."

Sunday, March 28, 2010

"That midden of the stagnant nadir skies" --Smith

no snoozing tonight
giant mesh face sweet vanilla yogurt thwart
and envenom'd habitat
ratatat the thing is being done
to the intimate horizon come
Crashsound, aye! & Eschaton
bleak regrets amidst
can't tell even to these porous battlements
up this will
be the intuition's news

lens pops out of my shades
and falls to the floor
of the tow truck cab

"With all the broken skulls, genocides, cut throats, black site torture chambers and mass graves in this world, the flies of American and Mexican media somehow chose these five heads, upon which to alight. It was the Styrofoam coolers of course."

Prepper thread.