Friday, June 26, 2026
my burdens
the shadow of a leaf
“We cannot understand what happens in the universe. What is glorious in it is united with what is full of horror. What is full of meaning is united to what is senseless. The spirit of the universe is at once creative and destructive — it creates while it destroys and destroys while it creates, and therefore it remains to us a riddle. And we must inevitably resign ourselves to this.”
— Albert Schweitzer via @johnstoszkowski
For most of my life whenever i try to talk about his book to other poets they think i made it up.
Weariness of being a conduit.
"The ruling class is not in denial about the trajectory of the world it has built."
"blue-veined kinsman"
1.
skincells winging hourly
cake the window sill
what does the hand retain
batteries on the menu
marooned
in the last cup
2.
put things back because of the cost
only necessary lights
i join
& i take apart
dim canyons of greenish ice
3.
jisei & signing · sep'rate rooms
the car breaks this · & then that
furrows in the sky · ferrying smash
it's so cheap now · robot death
before dawn scribbling · no new outcome
bright conjunction · which planets
i will not visit
"There were worse degradations earlier in the week. There will be worse ones next wee."
Thursday, June 25, 2026
The Arrogant History of White Ben.
cicadas drowned out
for a moment by airplane
as i check the mail
"One in ten classical Tamil words are Sanskrit-origin, with a higher percentage for religious writings and a lower percentage for everyday Tamil. This is actually on the lower end for Dravidian languages. Telugu, spoken in Andhra Pradhesh, has a thirty percent Sanskrit vocabulary; for Kannada, spoken in Karnataka, almost half the words come from Sanskrit, roughly the same percentage shown by Hindi. But Hindi is written in Sanskrit’s script, while the others are not."
—Amit Majmudar via
Reading Gravity's Rainbow in Hiroshima.
Yoin.
"Q: When referring to the upcoming 250th anniversary of the founding of our country, do we really have to use that awful word semiquincentennial?
A: No! Sestercentennial means the same thing, and it’s much easier to say!" —@alanhorn
"Hymn
I know if I find you I will have to leave the earth
and go on out
over the sea marshes and the brant in bays
and over the hills of tall hickory
and over the crater lakes and canyons
and on up through the spheres of diminishing air
past the blackset noctilucent clouds
where one wants to stop and look
way past all the light diffusions and bombardments
up farther than the loss of sight
into the unseasonal undifferentiated empty stark
And I know if I find you I will have to stay with the earth
inspecting with thin tools and ground eyes
trusting the microvilli sporangia and simplest
coelenterates
and praying for a nerve cell
with all the soul of my chemical reactions
and going right on down where the eye sees only traces
You are everywhere partial and entire
You are on the inside of everything and on the outside
I walk down the path down the hill where the sweetgum
has begun to ooze spring sap at the cut
and I see how the bark cracks and winds like no other bark
chasmal to my ant-soul running up and down
and if I find you I must go out deep into your
far resolutions
and if I find you I must stay here with the separate leaves
—A R Ammons
Once i was walking down a road next to national forest & heard a loud thrashing nearby. I was sure it was a bear. Five minutes later an armadillo walked out. Not even a big armadillo.
"The Night Is Freezing Fast
The night is freezing fast,
To-morrow comes December;
And winterfalls of old
Are with me from the past;
And chiefly I remember
How Dick would hate the cold.
Fall, winter, fall; for he,
Prompt hand and headpiece clever,
Has woven a winter robe,
And made of earth and sea
His overcoat for ever,
And wears the turning globe."
—A.E. Housman
"beiged out"
novel in the present tense · prong of witness
habit cohort · killing floor
the one way of rain · sharp wilderness
cough like gravel · finely grained
parts of a story · fairly stupid
tumblecearthward · parallel
tell 'em a hookah- · smoking character
has given · you the call
prong of witness · when you're ten feet tall
"...however apically Volapucky..." —Finnegans Wake
Wednesday, June 24, 2026
"Berryman once tried to provoke his mother into a confession, reserving for her a front seat for a lecture he gave on Hamlet at Princeton, in which he examined in psychoanalytical detail the play’s murderous family dynamics. Steelier than Gertrude, Martha rather brilliantly outwitted her son, leaving her seat vacant until he was well underway, and eventually making a dramatic entrance in high heels and a startlingly bright dress." —Mark Ford via
Pynchons ranked (with useful summaries). And Dickens.
"broken spigot"
shelves i never nudge
as the new thwarts chortle
taste of rye bread, rostrum
ruinous speech leechcraft
machines-breaking shockwave
funest shoptalk festers
in a slow moment slaughter
slesters the void's 'roid-rage
ricochet cathedral
stickleback bardsweat
nothing but pith cancer
appalls with moon-pinball
to crawl through this miremaze
"imperious shadow"
throat chakra goblin · Scriabin gust
alone with quids · quacking dark
cannot solve inly · carping about
in dim scrollops · skullcap quaff
to the blank morrow
The best albums from China in 2026... so far.
"To obtain the monkeys used in the climactic sequence, Herzog paid several locals to trap 400 monkeys. He paid them half in advance and was to pay the other half upon receipt. The trappers sold the monkeys to someone in Los Angeles or Miami, and Herzog came to the airport just as the monkeys were being loaded to be shipped out of the country. He pretended to be a veterinarian and claimed that the monkeys needed vaccinations before leaving the country. Abashed, the handlers handed the monkeys over to Herzog, who used them in the shot they were required for, then released them afterwards into the jungle." —@kentpeterson
"The North Pole is not where it used to be."
"When the world came back steadied, in the big carred-up arena, tyres were still burning."
—Barefoot in the Head
"pink world wrapped in salt clouds"
a bedrock wusp that all mild rhapsodies perjure
& even cynical mischief serves as vessel
seraph if stewed in this murk we fain would wrestle
questions out of Dante's lark & pitchfork-urger.
getting things done, the plaintive dog in the manger,
when all one wants is spraypaint on a trestle,
into bulleted tasks would shoehorn epistle
& murmur. cultivate the will to injure.
coal seams being slow to self-extinguish,
waiting on days that carry the lesser stigma
so tiny you could keep it in a matchbox
so vast it blots out even the blaze of anguish.
my burnished steering wheel discerns enigma
after enigma: one-off, flow & batch-mocks.
god piñata
piece of the true cross · Pete Townsend whacked
muggy as shit · we muggles
under stern pylons · pullulate steps
eyes glued to screens · full of gloze
now the truck speeds up · clock's now heeded
mackerel sky · amok grays
should i gather up · shards of pages
stuck in this lane · blocked lewdly
crease of a prune toss · westerly tend
ripples the pool · rain but raised
sing in the doldrum · you know the drill
bodybags heap · block heaven
rotting from the top · terrible smile
emptiness reached · into core
drive with myrmidons · in the same cars
cobweb drooling · dreams of peace
"By 1967, it had nowhere left to go but here: a rundown mansion in a town called Sleepy Junction, repurposed as the headquarters of an organization with the acronym M.O.T.H.E.R. — Master Organization To Halt Enemy Resistance — its three ranking agents played by men who, a generation earlier, would have been billed above the title in any picture they appeared in."
—Zachariah Malachi via
The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.
Tuesday, June 23, 2026
"Yesterday was likely the hottest day in France since the last interglacial (125,000 years ago)."
—@nilsgilman
A Giant List of Virtual Museums.
bookkeeper
questions you once asked of me
in the long ago, in the long ago
before it all went south
asphault reckonings
one or two good days
worm's eye view of rot · doomscroll punchtape
the wrong war falls · paltry dire
can't decide if it's · portrait landscape
sad glaucous curve · allowed pyre
my worn tires scrubbing · a skew threshold
my passage slow · slack tinchel
the groc'ries arrive · from WalMart reft
a plague season · secretive death
worm's eye view of rot
—the bard ruthless
the book unread · vermin winning
in the olive pool · perfect inning
sky, color of · cruel doulas
betweeen the channels · charcoal gray grief
TV screen turned · twirl relief
"Today, a group of Texans who were protesting ICE activities at the Prairieland Detention Center last year were convicted of charges of terrorism and given unusually harsh sentences ranging from 50 - 100 years in prison." —Maia Duerr via
"Certainly I had no idea that he was the central figure in such a strong literary cult."
"rasterbook"
mirage of the world · the rain shadow
cerulean beach · balked crescent
muggy esplanade · artifact pile
burnt timbers left · where time broke
graygreen hymnal raised · by ghost henchmen
in the pages · permission
Was Wilbur a great poet? If Sylvia Plath was the preëminent poet of her era (as i do believe), then he certainly would feature among the most accomplished minor poets*. Is there any reason for this classification? I say a poet can write one or two poems that deserve to be remembered, & be a "great minor" (or just "minor" since that adjective conveys only my appreciation); a "major poet" is one who influences other poets (at the time or after death), & by whose presence the tradition afterwards is not the same. Lots of formal poets admire Wilbur (as Frost's urbane brother...). Did his having written change anyone else's work?
Now, if he had written more alliterative poems like "Junk" or "The Lilacs" (now 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 a Wilbur deep-cut), the poets of the Alliterative Revival could embrace him as a forerunner & i might be more inclined to reclassify him. But these are not the poems one thinks of in connection with his name.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
* Berryman & Lowell being right on the edge, fading now except for their handful of greatest hits, i think. --It's senseless to confine this to poets in English just from America. Put Wilbur next to Geoffrey Hill & compare.
Hotel Housekeeping: Summer Seasonal, 1969.
"Big Sadness doesn't want you to know this, but just quietly being in the presence of someone you love and who loves you in return is very nice, actually." —@lastpositivist.bsky.social
"Keep Yourself at the Beginning of the Beginning
Please try to help me go to the joy that is trying
to go to the beautiful helpful helpful beginning
of the beginning of the very trying freedom
that we make our great great great light
that is nothing but the laughter that is
fooling us into believing that we go
to the trash bin that is your life
that become the treasures
that live in the bottom
of the bin that is
your life yes
yes yes
yes –
please
try to dive
down to the
beautiful muck
that helps you get
that the world was made
from the garbage at the bottom
of the universe that was boiling over
with joy that wanted to become you you
you yes yes yes – please try to go to the colors
that kiss you great great great person of the light
that is becoming you you you yes yes – please
try to keep yourself in the bottom of the bin
yes yes – please try to go to the kissing
muck that is very true to your life yes
yes – please try to meet me there
yes yes – please try to bring
your beautiful nothing
there yes yes"
—Hannah Emerson via
The Language in Which I will Die.
Monday, June 22, 2026
"SUMMER SOLSTICE AT STONEHENGE (Palindrome)
Sun!
In my halo,
open,
I mull its altar: All.
I plait its lost light.
I lag, emanating:
I lay a ray, align.
I tan a megalith gilt.
Solstitial pillar, at last illumine —
pool a hymn in us."
—Anthony Etherin
"Toad looked at the ground. The seeds still did not want to grow. 'What shall I do?' cried Toad. 'These must be the most frightened seeds in the whole world!' " —@frogandtoadbot.bsky.social
"What I do is me: for that I came."
"America has the parts to build a car that combines capitalism’s horsepower with a welfare state’s seatbelts and air bags. We just don’t trust each other enough to ride in it together." —Scott Galloway via
"...ten ideas a minute, nine of them screwy, but the tenth a lulu."
magical chore marrow
munch cicalatide sudden
rogue arrow
the words redden
tintinnitis · in the night verge
clownfire olive urgent
only when dusk rustles
quartz warden
wailing garden
sweets grown · where the bee bustles
green expense is groaning
grilse of full-blown knowing
bitterest
bootstrap glowing
"Whitehead was born in 1969, the year that construction began on the World Trade Center’s South Tower."
"Davenport"
intrusive drottkvaett
dry visual allusions
annotate wet streets inly
baroque trumpet
esters tired of easing
fall in love with a heart
don't fall in love with a face
queue-remorseful & hurt
fall in love with a heart
back to the tepid waters of the sonnet
cracking rocks in search of amethyst
your ev'ry curse richly albatrossed
fall in love with a heart
"Writing about the internet can be divided into three camps I think, 1) writing like Honor Levy’s which looks at it from within and uses its temporal language 2) the traditional realist novel with phones added 3) those which try to make poetic and metaphysical sense of the technological world we live in now. Here M John Harrison is situated, along with Ben Pester, Nicola Barker and Vladimir Sorokin, and oddly, very few other writers." —Camilla Grudova via
Sunday, June 21, 2026
🔥surrounded by Grey-headed Albatross chicks.
"The novelist Mary Gordon, I recently read, begins her writing day by reading ten pages of Proust, somewhat the way Karl Barth used to play a Mozart recording before settling to theology." —John Updike via
"police raid"
order reordered
till it might as well be chaos
& the lattice stays
the Seven
& the One that is Lost
Greatest thrift store find of all time.
"alien truthers"
immense stolen music
murmur & pool turquoise
Area Fifty-Onesies
arcane grid of ironwork
algal enterprise hajj
bright cliffs of half-caste
immense nights of music
no pilgrimage back to
"Journalism as a form of belles-lettres has become something that old people do." —Bruce Sterling via
"In not acknowledging the reliance of modern technologies on such flows, we tend to think that their only social implications are in terms of downstream consequences, while ignoring that the very existence of those technologies is a manifestation of an abysmally unequal world order." —Anthony Galluzzo via
"El Niño"
upcycled trope · humor the robots
over the radar pore
two puddles · from wet gloves hanging
gone when we return
Saturday, June 20, 2026
6 Vintage Japanese Covers for J. G. Ballard.
"Civilwarland in steep decline"
Untergang gaslighting
gurgle circling the drain
expensive caffeine fueling
fad, sessile obsessions
Franz Ferdinand the musical
"I wanted to get good at cryptic crosswords so if there ever was another Bletchley they’d pick me to break codes there."
—AV Marraccini
"Midnight, and the room unmakes us." —@dreamsofbeing.bsky.social
"Advice to a Prophet
When you come, as you soon must, to the streets of our city,
Mad-eyed from stating the obvious,
Not proclaiming our fall but begging us
In God’s name to have self-pity,
Spare us all word of the weapons, their force and range,
The long numbers that rocket the mind;
Our slow, unreckoning hearts will be left behind,
Unable to fear what is too strange.
Nor shall you scare us with talk of the death of the race.
How should we dream of this place without us?—
The sun mere fire, the leaves untroubled about us,
A stone look on the stone’s face?
Speak of the world’s own change. Though we cannot conceive
Of an undreamt thing, we know to our cost
How the dreamt cloud crumbles, the vines are blackened by frost,
How the view alters. We could believe,
If you told us so, that the white-tailed deer will slip
Into perfect shade, grown perfectly shy,
The lark avoid the reaches of our eye,
The jack-pine lose its knuckled grip
On the cold ledge, and every torrent burn
As Xanthus once, its gliding trout
Stunned in a twinkling. What should we be without
The dolphin’s arc, the dove’s return,
These things in which we have seen ourselves and spoken?
Ask us, prophet, how we shall call
Our natures forth when that live tongue is all
Dispelled, that glass obscured or broken
In which we have said the rose of our love and the clean
Horse of our courage, in which beheld
The singing locust of the soul unshelled,
And all we mean or wish to mean.
Ask us, ask us whether with the worldless rose
Our hearts shall fail us; come demanding
Whether there shall be lofty or long standing
When the bronze annals of the oak-tree close."
—Richard Wilbur via
"At the time that fish was caught, a local biologist confirmed it was over 100-year[s]-old."
"algae autogolpe"
fadinger thirst thunders
frayed thespian griot
winds asphault
between roofsome trees
Frutiger Aero · for a day & a half
plugged-in dongle drywall
drastic granular ceasefire
I used to recommend Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, but i need to have reread it more recently than 1980 to be sure.
Be that as it may, the next book after that might be The Book of Questions by Edmond Jabès.
This may be the second most important event of 2026.
Somoza Unveils Somoza’s Statue of Somoza at the Somoza Stadium.
"There is no point in taking opium; it is better to put salt and vinegar in the soul's wound ; for if you fall asleep and no longer feel the pain, then you no longer exist. And the point is to exist."
—Miguel de Unamuno, The tragic sense of life via @poeticoutlaws
"bolus"
kaiju hopscotch · hope festers
whipped cream in my coffee · in the killing dawn
i'm sure there are reasons · garage door
all the windows drawn · a weary cycle
inchmeal delivered · the long haul
described in scraps · a bard bundles
newsreels relish · & wild rumor
in the chiming of the words
I do not even know how to caption this.
Friday, June 19, 2026
Herman Melville, Customs Inspector Number 75, New York City, 1871.
shade pedigree shrapnel
insure amber durance
between dog & superglued gilt
gunmetal clink welkin
slumberweed thing-drizzle
watchful with tart hurdles
breeze-moved curtains yielding
shade pedigree shrapnel
"And the rebuilt Temple will not be the same as the one destroyed."
"[Twin Peaks dwarf, backwards voice] That dark brandon meme you like is going to come back in style" —@rmhaines

















































