( via / via)

"If we don’t name it, we can’t tackle it." (via @jorie_graham)

"Most reckless things are beautiful in some way, and recklessness is what makes experimental art beautiful, just as religions are beautiful because of the strong possibility that they are founded on nothing."

- John Ashbery via @everysongiveeve

"I hadn’t realized until then how much having neighbors nearby made the prospect of dying more bearable; dying with friends around you would be a mercy compared to dying on your own, with no one to witness it, or even know it happened." (via @fadyjoudah)

"The Pope at Ground Zero"

Hammocks. Rings. Owls. The march
to wryneck, softer than a whisper;
and ev'rything proceeds from scratch
as modules in my brainpan fester.
Today the weather might be March
although November, light so mellow
falling across the plains of pitch,
and where i go there is no one can follow.

Hero of insufficient starch
and highwayman with finger blister,
my sense of irony's no crutch
against the hurricane's rough bluster.
Whatever brought me here won't muster
reasons to stay, or songs to hallow
this perilous absence of high master,
and where i go there is no one can follow.

Hyenas nuzzle at the latch.
Tomorrow is a blasting gospel.
Only for now, the jewels i catch
linger, then perish faster and faster.
Whatever courage i can foster
must shore up my walls, as stern as jello;
i chase gray moths on a twilight porch
and where i go there is no one can follow.

This blue podcast, this slim fetch
dwindles in the winds of Hesper.
I cannot dream of goodlier hutch,
i cannot find a finer clyster.
Among the hooligans who cluster,
this one's apogee lies fallow.
Once to lift a stratocaster--
and where i go there is no one can follow.

You who never knew the bunker buster
still find blood stains on your pillow.
Graywyvern shifts across Ygg's twister
and where he goes there is no one can follow.

(2007)

Discontinued.