( via / via )

~ 1989年に創造してた未来の公園 ~🌇📺.

"Just discovered another beautiful and very useful Old English word: œ̄ðelwynn ‘homeland-joy’, joy at being in or of one’s homeland. Since œ̄ðel (“homeland”) and wynn (“joy”) are both names of runes, you can even write it as two runes: ᛟᚹ" --@wylfcen

Feast of the Ass.

"Speech for the Repeal of the McCarran Act

As Wulfstan said on another occasion,
The strong net bellies in the wind and the spider rides it out;
But history, that sure blunderer,
Ruins the unkempt web, however silver.
I am not speaking of rose windows
Shattered by bomb-shock; the leads touselled; the glass-grains broadcast;
If the rose be living at all
A gay gravel shall be pollen of churches.
Nor do I mean railway networks.
Torn-up tracks are no great trouble. As Wulfstan said.
It is oathbreach, faithbreach, lovebreach
Bring the invaders into the estuaries.
Shall one man drive before him ten
Unstrung from sea to sea? Let thought be free. I speak
Of the spirit's weaving, the neural
Web, the self-true mind, the trusty reflex."

--Richard Wilbur, 1956

The World Under the Limetree.

( via / via )

Baldwin on Israel in 1961.

      "Journey to Nomen Tuum"

break ground hog wild fire

break down wind up side car jack

strap on ramp up town

house proud flesh pot latch key word

play pen name plate glass pack ice

         (2008)

"He convinced his teachers this was a good idea by comparing them to the post-war avant-garde composer John Cage."

"...I hate the politics/ which have crept/ into my poetry." -Eric Lerner, Seditious Delicious #2

~ 1989年に創造してた未来の公園 ~🌇⛲.

( via / via )

"...the way the managerial class has grown and organized itself is something much more akin to literal feudalism."

"after a long nap
within the raindrop
the bell of transience"

--@poem_exe

"Her contribution to the culture of her time was not to warn it about the seductions of story—as per her famous adage, if indeed it is a warning—but to invent a new story for it, a story of storylessness."

"Crow's Fall

When Crow was white he decided the sun was too white.
He decided it glared much too whitely.
He decided to attack it and defeat it.

He got his strength up flush and in full glitter.
He clawed and fluffed his rage up.
He aimed his beak direct at the sun's centre.

He laughed himself to the centre of himself

And attacked.

At his battle cry trees grew suddenly old,
Shadows flattened.

But the sun brightened—
It brightened, and Crow returned charred black.

He opened his mouth but what came out was charred black.

'Up there,' he managed,
'Where white is black and black is white, I won.' "

--Ted Hughes

I finally made it onto Mirror Island.

( via / via )

"Go blind today already."

"ex-quoin"

1.
spring too soon · sprout wings on
a dark day · with foaming delirium
birds burble · & later there's drizzle
even the fluorescents · inside the bank seem dim
spring too soon · since the crescent fell
our scurrying scours · & concrete scoots
inside a cloud · occluded dernely
yesterday's yearnings · i use for kindling

2.
exile earned · oars the long way
sunken citadel · i sing in the lonely hours
can arrive where its ruins · irrupt curbside
can conjure · its first face

"The rhizome remains."

"film camera nerds are always like shot on 200 year old kodak gold 900 that i found in the black sea and dried on a tree in chernobyl and had developed on the international space station. and then the pictures are just empty midwestern parking lots" --@tamphopho

Gender Refugees.

( via / via via )

Caterpillar Calendar.

"VERSE (Palindrome by Anagrammed Words)

Serve
supersonic
form
from
percussion:
verse."

--@Anthony_Etherin

"Taking your name from a book where the robots literally kill all the humans and replace them is possibly a bit on the nose for this sort of venture."

      "XIX

In midnights of November,
   When Dead Man's Fair is nigh,
And danger in the valley,
   And anger in the sky,

Around the huddling homesteads
   The leafless timber roars,
And the dead call the dying
   And finger at the doors.

Oh, yonder faltering fingers
   Are hands I used to hold;
Their false companion drowses
   And leaves them in the cold.

Oh, to the bed of ocean,
   To Africk and to Ind,
I will arise and follow
   Along the rainy wind.

The night goes out and under
   With all its train forlorn;
Hues in the east assemble
   And cocks crow up the morn.

The living are the living
   And dead the dead will stay,
And I will sort with comrades
   That face the beam of day."

--AE Housman, Last Poems

Poetry & Film: a List.

( via / via )

80s "neo-expressionist" films.

"for a handful of likes"

1.
another endgame same pieces
the plastic dark · that has taken so many
since the last census · counted in the dark
languages of choice · falter
i carefully place · glasses on the table
it is a long time · until morning

2.
how threadbare the thistle · castles rise
that would keep us occupied · otherwise lorn
with sweeping winds · off a wild expanse
the perfected weapons · of a pallid dawn

3.
this tower built to the moon · what then
a password used · a lot for awhile
& then forgotten

'Et tu' revisited.

At the beginning of a ghost dance that is also its own cargo cult.

Rain.

( via / via )

"This is the first of thousands of indicators that a human being did not write this screenplay."

Unfortunately all too many educators (& others!) in the higher echelons have no critical thinking skills either, they just have the duckspeak set at max. So how can they judge whether an AI can think?

"Neobaroque is not arbitrarily excessive, rather it is like a response to Beckett's proposal (from a conversation with Duhuit) that 'to find a form to accommodate the mess—that is the task of the artist today'."

"paregoracle"

duckspeak dense with buzzwords
a dirge upon poolside
a cruel desecration
a cruel desecration
crawled up from the biz world

now they wage Wolf Winter
on wights bearing meaning
the bottom line boosting
the bottom line boosting
aboard the Titanic

"Do not attempt to shuck the absurd flower of my doubts about the Fatherland."

( via / via )

⊙.

"Radiohead (palindrome)

Till I kill, it’s live.
Do I dare?
Do I dare?

Solder I wed.
A metal pen,
a cranial pot,
dials laid to plain, arcane plate
made wired loser—
a diode radio devil.

Still, I kill it."

--@SpoonerRhythms

This is the feeling every day, yes?

It's not that those on the margins see more because they're morally superior. They see more because they are less invested in Not-Seeing. It's not that trauma gives you wings: trauma pulls you with terrible claws out of the perfectly understandable condition of Not-Wanting-To-Know.

Defrenchifying.

https://www.tumblr.com/outrundis/745017741509017600

"My lute teacher, Anton Birula often jokingly tells me when I'm learning a new Baroque piece that I make things too complicated: he said, these people what you need to realize is they were constantly under this threat of death."

"PI (Aelindrome in 314159)

Spiral tears are
cut....
A sector’s area alters —
pi."

--@Anthony_Etherin

CONSTRUCTION.

"Poem

I first loved you
second to
your gentleness

like the blind who
divide their lives into
dark and dark I
have you and your gentleness

as a detail in a painting frames that painting
in the often
memory, your face
is surrounded by your eyes
unafraid
of the grays of gentleness

but better than your gentleness
I love your harshness

the harshness
when you talk about that prison capitalism
when you vow never to stop fighting

never

until each woman and man is free
until each woman and man is in the custody

of their gentleness"

--Bill Knott

Japanese Maple in January.

( via / me )

An alternative list.

"FORGETFULNESS

Forgetfulness is like a song
That, freed from beat and measure, wanders.
Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled,
Outspread and motionless,--
A bird that coasts the wind unwearingly.

Forgetfulness is rain at night,
Or an old house in a forest,--or a child.
Forgetfulness is white,--white as a blasted tree,
And it may stun the sybil into prophecy,
Or bury the Gods.

I can remember much forgetfulness."

--Hart Crane

A tired cat in a bedraggled wizard hat, sitting in the middle of a bombed out hospital, detailed oil painting, egon schiele, remedios varo.

"Saturn said:
But what is that wonder, so widely faring,
so stern in onset, that strikes at foundations,
wakes woedroplets, as it wages against us?
Nor may stars or stones, nor strongest gems,
nor water nor wild beast, one whit escape,
for its hands grip all: the hard and soft,
meek and mighty; whose maw swallows,
without fail each year, to feed its hunger,
of the land-living, aloft-flying
and water-swimming of world-dwellers,
three times thirteen a thousandfold?

Solomon said:
Over everything on Earth, Age is mighty;
she slips on the bonds of her enslaving chain’s
far-reaching fetters, fastens the shackles
with lengthy links, of her leash as she wills.
She breaks the branches, beats down the trees,
wrenches their roots up; in her ruthless course
she fells to the floor the faltering trunks:
even the wildfowl she gobbles, like a wolf in rage,
more steadfast than stone, as steel in hardness,
eats iron with rust—she is all-consuming."

--Rahul Gupta, from the OE "Second Dialogue of Solomon and Saturn"

Finalists for the 59th Nebula awards. Which, now that the Hugos have gone all jumpsky sharksky, is IT.

( via / me )

"in my experience the way artists are actually influenced and where things like style come from are rarely accessible to people who come after."

"It's too expensive to throw a laptop or e-reader across the room & that's eliminated one of the small harmless joys of reading" --@mjohnharrison

We’re all ghosts in the making...

"POSTSCRIPT

Though now but marble are the marble urns,
Though fountains droop in waning light and pain
Glitters on the edges of wet ferns,
I should not dare to let you in again.

Mine is a world foregone though not yet ended,--
An imagined garden grey with sundered boughs
And broken branches, wistful and unmended,
And mist that is more constant than your vows."

--Hart Crane

My life is in turmoil right now, but these things I know.

( via / via )

Nice illus of thorn into lc 'Y'.

"pergola"

cairns cadged · in the cold hours
gallumphing gurgle · i await like god
stagger astounded · stumble through
fresh hangings · of terrible fruit

we have antics & alibis · options & debate
but strength to stop this · is strangely lacking
in the chain of command · from the killing to the cheering
& even the telling · gets twisted up

urgent throng · inchmeal Rainrake
bright breakage · in brillig plotted
cairns cadged · in the cold hours
hearts heaved · like pebbles at a screen

A wooden box of things I found and put together.

"who amongst us is not trained on publicly available data?" --@megs_io

"There’s all this talk about ‘sustainability’ and ‘resilience,’ he said, “and it kind of sounds to me like 'what’s the least we can do in order to keep the party going?' " (via Mefi)

( via / via )

"In that sense, You’ve Got Mail is the ur-Clintonite film, a pure expression of the era’s liberal political defeatism masquerading as an optimism that politics are now disposable..."

"Few nations have as many names as Faerie. It used to be more commonly called Elfland or the Perilous Realm. Others told it as the Silvered Land due to its two moons. I like those accounts refering to it as ‘the Enfolding Kingdom’ as that speaks of its closeness. - Rev. H.R. Fade" --@HooklandGuide

Global Village Coffeehouse style.

"the brotherhood of the wolf"

i was not one of those
who thought the murdering neighbor was innocuous

i knew where meat came from
i have hefted the steer-smasher's mallet

the mines that made cellphones
were no myst'ry

the white men behind the black anchor
the suits behind the starlet

all these i knew
the emperor's lack of clothes

& how little it would matter
for me to hold a sign in the street

or to say to a co-worker
i think that stinks

the coffee bag is in my ammo box
army surplus forty years old

Generation Z slang.

( via / via )

"Hecht couldn’t let go of the idea that seriousness requires an arcane vocabulary."

"Farewell Desires

To unwind yourself like Houdini
from desires' pinioning buckles,
to bob away, an untethered dory
from a golden shore.

To be tumbled by whim
bloom to bloom to bloom,
not snapped by stubborn longing
into carnivorous sepals.

Throw out the devil of hoarding,
his bower-bird piracy
and magpie curios.
Let my green wants

be maple seeds
twirling into a ditch, my wishes
crackers flung over the transom
to battling gulls.

Goddess of discards,
let me be a waterfall
pouring a heedless mile,
stride barefoot over the drawbridge
to the plain road."

--Elise Partridge

Giedi Prime. (via rhonda havins on fb)

"I think a lot of people haven’t realized that the market for making people feel like artists is larger than the market for consuming art itself" --@Pidud_

"The book explains the 'dark way of being red' drawing off the warm stream of Marxism from Ernst Bloch. From there, the book explores the socio-political function of the monstrous, the haunted nature of the digital world and the inescapable horror of contemporary capitalist politics."

( via / via )

"What is the overly long, pretentious German compound word for 'that keen awareness, when leaving a place, that you will never see it again'?"

On thinking in images/thinking in words: there is the metaphor of "more image-like" & the metaphor of "more-verbalization-like", but its actuality is rather far from the perception of either, externally.

"He erected a barbed-wire fence between himself and the common reader, like a man planting ‘Danger’ signs around a minefield."

"Decolonization ghazal with smartphone in my hand

You doomscroll every night or become apocalypse-denier, lol.
Count the headlines that unsay genocide, unsay ceasefire, lol.

Hey Siri, is this El Niño or are they bombing the ice caps too?
Siri says: prepare to dance on your own funeral pyre, lol.

True friends send me memes when I’m depressed, sink ships, scheme,
clog the Red Sea with dollars dead to the empire, lol.

Gun aimed at a burning martyr, at Truth ablaze yet intact: this
clarity of the livestream, as if God attempts satire, lol.

They shadowban resistance, though terror sees raised fists, laughter.
They want to be the heroes, of suffering never tire, lol.

WebMD has no diagnoses when symptom is silence, nor cure.
Are bitten tongues complicit? It’s complicated?–enquire, lol.

ChatGPT does homework: can once-colonized turn colonizer?
Algorithms wipe out mosques, victims pray at temples for hire, lol.

When my love had to leave I became a blinking heart on her phone.
Seas and moons have emojis, not what divides us–barbed wire–lol.

Select all images of peace–from mansion, factory, palace, zoo,
army checkpoint; no bot, only human is this kind of liar, lol.

Lonely, at rock bottom, you reach for a cobalt sedative–phone.
Eyes blur, thumbs numb–of the people who make it, wheeze, perspire, lol.

We’ll picnic and take selfies with the living and our dead one day–
feast, fly kites, kiss–at the grave of every last occupier, lol.

Their calm sniper’s sane, our freedom fighters, animals; so even
tiny fly, #BurnDownAllCages, revolt’s in your name, fire–lol."

--Tanima in Only Poems

The Great American Novels.

( via / me )

Wildcat.

"Cancer Surgery

Squeak squeak...
   where?
middle-of-the-night

fenced by steel rails,
tethered to a pouch

   light
   knifes under the door

   squeak        GLARE

      the nurse's shoes

Dark again.
Red digits blink: morphine drip.
Chest a gauzy snowpatch, itchy with tape.
A silver balloon sways on the updraft--
messenger from some festivity
too far to imagine, ocean-trench creature
bobbing dopily
where goggle-eyed fish ghost by.

How did I land here,
shot down like a migrating bird
who had other latitudes in mind?"

--Elise Partridge

"At the height of my Minimal Kitty obsession (and it was an obsession — I sprayed that stencil on everything and started making a deck of Minimal Kitty tarot cards), I was also riding a skateboard and wearing an eye-patch, which was idiotic because I had no depth perception and kept hitting things."

Pareidolia is a hell of a drug.

Can only be Nabokov.

( via / via )

"OK ai music twitter, it's been months of us using the latest cohort of models. Who invented new genres? Share your examples.

"I saw this interview with a guy whose whole family had adermatogyphia (no fingerprints) and he said it would be easy to commit crimes but it’s pretty difficult to turn the pages of books and I have never felt so torn about a scenario in my life." --@askanyone

"When there are multiple overlapping hierarchies of status there is more of a chance of people not fighting their superior within the status chain. And the more severe the imposition of the single hierarchy in people’s lives, the more likely they are to engage in conflict with one another."

"moral rock garden"

1.
when cars wore animal names
& each looked diff'rent
airplanes plied the body bags
on great silver wings
counted
on the black granite scroll
& over the course of a war
summed to a number
that number stares back at me
only it's children
not soldiers
& the war's since the leaves last turned
on these sky-spearing branches
(oh only one-fourth as much
or less
that makes it better

on great silver wings

my super power is silence

2.
groan of torn metal
monolith appears in Wales

rogue glows in the sullen subfusc
spires of power poles

story about TikTok

3.
government hold dubstep
became my theme song

"The number of children reported killed in just over 4 months in Gaza is higher than the number of children killed in 4 years of wars around the world combined."

( via / via )

"WELSH-Iron Age village reconstructions are all the rage in 2024,along with the resurgence of vinyl records & Teasmaids."

"In Autumn,
Unwracked by cares
The reed fronds too
Hang heavy at the tips
With dewfall upon them."

--Izumi Shikibu

Meetings.

Replace 'iconic' with 'banal' throughout.

"Her own recounting of this long connection [with Asia] reads like a history of a mad love affair."

( me / via )

"How terrifying!"

"I have long considered the military-industrial complex the ultimate thought leader, brand ambassador and content evangelist." --@nakedfoul

Steampunk by Canaletto.

"Snail Halfway Across the Road

You haul your burdens tipped high--
that notched, dinged brown shell
a body shop-hopeless car--
lugging, a Brueghel peasant,
a kindling-scrounger's cord:
one stuck pine needle, awry.

There's not a second to stall
as you glide, scrunch, glide;
your scalloped jelly-foot
ripples, ripples, grips. You lean
toward the yellow line,
a swimmer arcing for wall,

heaving your tilting load
past a black-diamond lariat--
snake squashed to a figure-8
(a crow jabs the baked tail),
his slanting saffron swiftness
punished for seeking the road.

Sets of oblivious treads
bear down, bear down, bear down.
Jaunty on a laboring back
you inch your history forward.
Bowsprit-antennae plunge, rise;
safety's ten lifetimes ahead."

--Elise Partridge

Sleepless on Venus.

( via / me )

"Their ideal situation isn't one where you visit distinct websites with content created by human beings, but a return to the dark ages of the internet where most traffic ran through a series of heavily-curated portals operated by a few select companies, with results generated based on datasets that are increasingly poisoned by generative content built to fill space rather than be consumed by a customer." (via Mefi)

      "deliquescence of a pyramid"

   eagle's-vantage intel
   without · though longhorn songsters
   see plenty of ploughshares
   applied to gat battles
   Coppell towers tolling
   in the teal taunt's onset
& we are haunted by the hare in the cruel crescent
   that metes out snarls & snipping

"She learnt a little French, a little algebra; the royal genealogies of Oviedo; the internal laws of the Burmese empire; by how many feet Mount Chimborazo outsoars Teneriffe; what navigable river joins itself to Lara; and what census of the year five was taken at Klagenfurt; also how to draw nereids neatly draped, to spin glass, stuff birds, and model flowers in wax."

"people think the american mall died but it didn’t—it just mind melded with the airport." --@MrHWM

So what do you do for a living?

( via / me )

A respectable artisan of considerable intelligence.

"Because I love this wretched world. Because I get to live today, and being alive means risking being wrong. Because no child deserves the world your militaries have made. Because fear is the enemy of ethics and empathy is not a praxis and the moon is still my only hero." --@aliner

Rabbit to rabbit.

"SAW

I sat.
I lost
I was ill.
I was sent.
I was raw onyx,
a lag, a wonder or rime.

Lost, solemn;
I was I & you.

Banal plan…
A buoy & I
saw in me
—lost sole…
mirrored now:
a galaxy;
no wars,
a witness,
a will.

I saw it,
so lit as I was."

--@MerlinaAcevedo

"Better to say that the historical novel is a mode, a resource from which a huge variety of writers can draw when in need."

( via / via )

Isn't It Atomic?

"Gaza Ghazal

What milk    what honey you were promised gall    in Zion
Kiss the weeping wall’s cheek    love    sows salt in Zion

It’s the recurring dream    of all    who throw down roots here
You’re holding a shovel    amid a thousand    falling Zions

When you finish digging    kneel in the red dust
God’s lost name    graffities the walls    in Zion

By the rivers of Babylon    we sat and wept
Today we stand up tall    and bawl and bawl in Zion

Will you beckon us to prayer    or to arms
When you’re granted your one phone call    in Zion

You shouldn’t need a map    to show you where to build
Look for the confluence    of three fault lines    Zion

Absolute truth    switches    two blocks west of this apartment
More than one thing is true    more than one thing false    in Zion

Amit means Limitless in Sanskrit    and in Hebrew    Friend
You will find a home yet    if not here    then inshallah    Zion"

--Amit Majmudar in America Magazine

"It became clear to me that a lot of the trans-exclusionary feminists didn’t realise where their discourse was coming from."

"19th century linguists must have sperged out when they discovered the regularity of sound change, cause of all the cool stuff it lets us do. For example: we can show that if Old English had the same word as Norse Ragnarök, it would be *Reġnaracu. Which today would be *Rainrake.

Next time something frustrating happens, instead of ‘darn it!’, all of you are invited to say ‘Rainrake take me!’ " --@wylfcen

"wish to return to making films of ecstatic, joyous movement..."

( via / via )

"The hands are empty. The faces are empty."

"i must admit that jia zhangke is who i think of as the greatest working director today. all of his films are one project, no one better captures the eerie alienation of today's post-historical epoch, the search for meaning under capitalism's auspice; antonioni's true successor." --@comrade_yui

What are your favorite literary works that are especially philosophically intriguing?

"tezpole sitter"

if we should fail · our feathered visitors
their turquoise tarryings · return to the Great Silence
their lesser, & leave · humans alone
to face the fumes · of our mad machinations
my poems remain poised · above pure fathoms
of tarnished turquoise · in the hideous half-light

"Our feeling is that 90 percent of the information is online. I have a suspicion the real answer is 0.9 percent."

( via / via )

cubus_serpens.

"splintering kayfabe"

holding off on the harsh poem
i thought to have made meanwhile
hoping a mote

blue book salvaged from heart's blood
flowing out & the flak thrown
bludgeon of flowerbeds

cancerdeath verse carped at
a hundred scribbling hands
we can't help it

sonnet carrying something
like woodsmoke weaves among
sad worries

this time of year tarries
snail with a bomb on his back
too bad

The Cult Wagon of Strettweg.

"Skittery flicker of a glare-weary lizard"

--Elise Partridge

This weariness of arms.

( via / via )

"When two novels in verse—fully metrical verse, largely rhymed—appear within weeks of each other, they cry out to be compared and contrasted."

"every language has its own silence" (Canetti) --@dreamsofbeing_

"We could also call someone who helps preserve tradition a ‘flame-bearer’, or *lēġbora."

when wild things are given names
they join the rote sestina
with parallel amens
& never again siesta

they join the rote sestina
a plethora of lush tisanes
& never again siesta
nor in the woods leave stains

a plethora of lush tisanes
when wild things are given names
nor in the woods leave stains
with parallel amens

E.V.A.

( via / via )

History Repeating.

"Anagrammatic Sestina

At the end of the furrow, words staple
the page, lashing agile lines. None are spared.
The choice is made: it imbricates, recaps
white porcelain, tin, polishes carets,
better yet, china clay. Rhyming words, ternes
bearing sludge with vestiges of tinsel,

grown gloomy, kiss-crazed by a queen’s intels
caressing your collar like worn petals,
your anagram arrives—this time it’s 'treens'—
in place, on the fingertips of padres.
A doctored line, but baited with caster:
to catch and serve a salad with capers.

This one’s beauty spot is made of black crapes,
but smelling of resinous log, elints,
like the other’s pale eyes, hollowed-out crates,
and the poem shows the skull’s tempest (plates
shift within pate) ejecting seaweed spread.
The meaning that’s reflected there enters,

broke, with no clincher. It is no nester.
Form has its reasons, and for a parsec
I will uphold this, though my nerves be rasped.
The line uncoils along coves and inlets,
serene—voice, paper, color, smooth as pelt.
A rush of dull hemoglobin reacts.

If permutation of final traces
ferrets out ideas that are tenser,
spawns some innovative shade of pastel
(lyric vocab), suddenly a spacer
also appears. The line tries to enlist
readers who feel as vapid as ad reps,

enthralled, recruited by syntax not parsed,
non sequiturs. But a mermaid caters
not to fresh water. She will not listen
to unrhymed rhymes’ nebbish bid to renest.
Unsalted, they’d be weak as tea, pacers
and bellwethers no more, at their palest.

After you had read the pleats in the drapes,
I, haunted, sought to scrape thoughts not recast,
squeezed, or resent by a voice now silent."

--Jacques Jouet, translated from French by Rachel Galvin here

Traveller.

"skunk-cabbage reek from humming scum-slick ponds
where frogs with hurdlers' thighs zapped gnats and belched..."

--Elise Partridge

Gravity.