“the wood smoke
toppling trash cans”
–@poem_exe
“Fegfeuer”
Distances i never chose
& those to come
converse together where i stand
abandoned & dumb.
The birds sing shrill & very loud
in a crowded tree;
i wonder what it takes to cure
futurity
that sings within my bloodstream like
a psychic gale,
& yet allows no single bare
airt to prevail…
So i remain, & cobble whims
of crimson from
distances i never chose,
& those to come.
Sex Pistols at the Longhorn Ballroom.
“Night Piece” (from the Spanish of Delmira Agustini)
Entangled in the nights of the tarn of your soul
I might litanize a web of silence and crystal
woven by insomnia’s great spiders.
Cream of lustral rain in a vase of alabasters,
O mirror of purity you polish the stars
and reflect the abyss of life in a sky…
I am the errant swan of the bloody trail,
I go leaving a stain and raising a churn.
“We are the clowns of the never-ending parade; for all the religions exist on the sides of cliffs that slowly descend towards the raging sea, like happy beings wishing to ride with death. The corpse is the believer’s truth.” –@gods_txt
"on the threshold, at september’s gate, ruin and radiance entwine in the dark heart of being" —@dreamsofbeing.bsky.social
"But the god that notices them is Death."
appall a late petal
pale thunderstorm bursting
frothy silence settles
sign's ultimate impact
scarecrow whose dance darkens
down massacre-trick way
pushpin nimbus, pureshrug
of a poised moon-foison
frore preferred pronoun
farms pushpin nimbus
pushpin nimbus
"Reading snow is like listening to music." —Smilla
"The poet Adrienne Rich: 'If you are trying to transform a brutalized society into one where people can live in dignity and hope, you begin with the empowering of the most powerless. You build from the ground up. You begin by stopping the torture and killing of the unprotected...' " —@zeeshanpathan.bsky.social
"An unlovely light · most like a flame
flashed from his eyes.."
"On Re-Reading Baudelaire
Forgetting still what holier lilies bloom
Secure within the garden of lost years,
We water with the fitfulness of tears
Wan myrtles with an acrid sick perfume;
Lethean lotus, laurels of our doom,
Dark amarant with tall unswaying spears,
Await funereal autumn and its fears
In this grey land that sullen suns illume.
Ivy and rose and hellebore we twine.
Voluptuous as love, or keen as grief,
Some fleeing fragrance lures us in the gloom
To Paphian dells or vales of Proserpine. . . .
But all the flowers, with dark or pallid leaf,
Become at last a garland for the tomb."
--Clark Ashton Smith
"injury en regalia"
build Manderley leylines
bugspare lilt that drugs me
concrete curb one cubit
ride subfusc ravening
around the thinned cinders
concrete curb one cubit
crabwise through the frabjous
"The human being whom McCarthy most admired, Dennis confirms, was Ludwig Wittgenstein."
"I never close my door behind me without the awareness that I am carrying out an act of mercy toward myself." —Smilla's Sense of Snow (tr T Nunnally)
Unica Zürn Day. (via feuilleton)
