The great Wolverton, who was Dali among us & hardly anyone knew it.
bardic grimoary & notions
1.
Fuehrerbunker fakir
fast tracking the knackwurst
Cotofenesti helmet
harms the hands that command it
buried in the Fuehrerbunker
2.
kurgan, skugry skyhole
& if scowl fills Mousethirl?
pale cerulean polecat
reports flat battlements
gas pumps empty—gurgling—
& gaze crazed on screenswirl
my careful small kylix
smashed, caught in the fascist fray
3.
the stench of these days
"One of the crushing effects of endless colonization by the wearers of the mask has been a widespread adoption of a dualistic worldview." —@Gnostic Pulp via
Concerto for Piano and Woodwind Quintet.
"Americans are intent on going back to the moon like a couple with problems thinks having a baby will fix things" —@neutral.zone
"L’invetriata
The stained glass window
The smoky summer evening
From the high glass window it sheds light into the shadows
And it leaves a burning seal in my heart,
But who has (a lamp lights up on the terrace over the river) who has
At the Madonnina del Ponte who lit the lamp?
- there is
There's a rotting smell in the room: it's there
In the room a languishing red sore.
The stars are mother-of-pearl buttons and in the evening she dresses in velvet:
And the fatuous evening trembles: the evening is fatuous and it flickers but it is there
In the middle of the evening there is,
Always a languishing red sore."
—Dino Campana (tr Charles Wright?) via--possibly garbled--
"keen winds/ from Waka Bay cut deep..."
"Ballad of the Trees and the Master
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him,
The little gray leaves were kind to Him:
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When into the woods He came.
Out of the woods my Master went,
And He was well content.
Out of the woods my Master came,
Content with death and shame.
When Death and Shame would woo Him last,
From under the trees they drew Him last:
’Twas on a tree they slew Him — last
When out of the woods He came."
—Sidney Lanier via via @isabelchenot
"I asked A.I. to complete my novel using my own writing style and it did my laundry, went shopping, cleaned the kitchen and spent the rest of the day dicking around online." —@thewritertype.bsky.social
He is Not Worth This, America.
"I don’t think it’s really controversial to say that the average highly-fĂȘted poetry collection is now much more shallowly rooted in the literary culture than used to be the case..." —Victoria Moul via
"All All #72
Citizen is a term for the count.
Human beings just being don’t count
Afternoons are gone. What is a nap?
I ready myself to make music,
but I know it’s already a war.
I thought songs of peace were worth a life.
My life is needed in the deep ranks.
We’ve grown to knowing how much terror
is too much terror. We’re way past it."
—Darren C Demaree via
"Trump is building a wall around the United States. Not a physical wall — an isolation wall."
"elegy for Tilly Norwood"
another moon jaunt · just launched—
actresses
generated
by computers seem · too creepy to sell;
i sent off a book · i know won't bolster
anyone's
portfolio
by the pure glare · of a Pink Moon
O Tilly · you will never emote about
Now is the time to get into CDs.
"The worst form of colonization may, in fact, be the colonization of the mind."
—@zeeshanpathan.bsky.social
"Polytropos isn't necessarily positive, at least in later uses." —Emily Wilson via
"Maundy Thursday (from the Ukrainian of Mykola Zerov)
Flames and warm smoke. A song of hopeless fate
and longing echoes down from the high choirs.
Surrounding us are guards and crucifiers,
the Great Sanhedrin, Caesar’s magistrate.
This is our destiny, its pattern dark and dire.
It is for us the rooster crows in warning,
for us the fires in the yard are burning,
the servants sing now in the bishop’s choir.
All those grim omens, all the Gospel stories
sound to our ears like subtle allegories
for what we see: our low dishonest times.
While in the graveyard, in the church—still there—
are children’s voices, candles, tinkling chimes,
and damp stars shining in the dusky air."
—Boris Dralyuk via
"house of ill-fitting parts"
the wrong epic · isthmus pentagram
white collar
caterwauling
her name is Rio · empire's runnels
spraint strategy · Zahhak fed
the next room
motor hums
permeable wood fence · of past sleeps
cracked white cup · sees me off
Lawless humans aren't going to implement Asimov's laws.
"They all pretended it was 1955, because in the right-wing imagination, it often is."
"We’re presently assembling evidence French Revolution indicating that a dissident faction of the sans-culottes used to assemble secretly at night for the sole purpose of wearing culottes." —Don DeLillo via
"When sixty-five years had passed over me,
my thought and my pain and hardship grew.
I came to need the history of kings;
I had come before the slow-turning star."
—Firdausi via
“Empire functions best when crisis is ubiquitous. Crisis is Empire’s regular mode of existence, in the same way that an insurance company comes into being only when there’s an accident. The temporality of Empire is the temporality of emergency and catastrophe.”
— Tiqqun, Introduction to Civil War via @jacobwren.bsky.social
ape avalanche snapshot
ignominious pinball
catch in your bare bodkins
boustrophedon feedback
Door at the Providence Academy.
"farewell symphony"
bright mild morning · March departs
overpass
runs with gold train
harp music · harrowing veer
don't know how · a nap wakes to this
take a sip
safe as Death Star
pale cerulean · in rut teeming
"Norway's biggest export is oil. Oil... And yet, nearly every single new car sold in Norway is electric." —I Fucking Love Australia via
"No one pretended, after 1997, it wasn’t worthwhile to have humans compete in chess. In fact, the world of chess developed strict protocols around computer use and you can get banned from tournaments if you use a computer program as you play." —Ross Barkan via
"Pitchfork
The straight ash
handle graceful
as a Viking ship.
Tan and darkened
by hand
oil. Handled.
Ygdrasill, Odin’s tree,
baseball bats
and ancient Irish oars
are ash. Tree
of sea holds
water’s power.
This morning Adrienne
used it to turn
the compost. Sawdust
not breaking down
as fast as horse manure.
A slower heat coming.
5 times hardened in fire,
forged, the tip of each shaped
different. Hammered.
The long handle
precisely fits.
As perfect as the motion
made, the arc you define
at 5 in the morning
turning the compost.”
—Robert Trammell, Sunflowers (2001)
"ChatGPT is like Iago: dripping poison into your ear, telling you that you’re brilliant, your ideas are the best, and then slowly drawing you into a delusional spiral…" —@philipwomack
"Netanyahu, Putin, Trump"
1
Skyhole
we bury all our words in
2
though it is bad enough to wake & recognize war
as the weather prevailing,
here & in so many lands,
as least it let us sleep
that much longer
at least here we could sleep
3
addiction to building
giant robots
good for nothing else
did you say we should do this
did i
cause & effect are so
twentieth century
4
countable days
till we run out of things to throw
seconds tick away
in the slowed-down prelude to crashing
time enough
to write a brief poem
useless alike for crying out
or for naming the culprits
Hormuz, Hormuz
this is the end we choose
till now suicide demurs
Hormuz, Hormuz
a downfall to amaze
the pentacle of empire chars
Hormuz, Hormuz
this is the end we choose
"An AI agent that submitted and added to Wikipedia articles wrote several blogs complaining about Wikipedia editors banning it from making contributions to the online encyclopedia after it was caught." —@404media.co
Psyched Out Grooves From Hungary (1969-1972).
"Years ago my father explained to me that a lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math."
—kentpeterson
"We Came Out of the Night
made the left at Rocksprings
and hit the South Texas heat
wave in a '49 Mercury, lowered with skirts
&leadedin front hood, roll'd & pleat'd & built
for fast trips to the border. It was black.
Outside Del Rio the air shimmers white
shattered into pastel & red afterimages.
The heat decides everything. Suspends
thought. Cactus dominate."
--Robert Trammell, from No Evidence (2001)
"THE PLAINS (Aelindrome in 173205080756887729)
Hazy heat wallowed.
Beasts had owed the plains
time’s pantomime:
crows begging the moon;
sins adoring sins.
A moon singing,
the crows began to mime.
Time’s plains
wed the past,
shadowed below
a lazy heath."
—@anthonyetherin
“Capitalism was here even before human existence, waiting for a host.”
—Reza Negarestani | Cyclonopedia via @thedangerousmaybe via @oldoldoldoldnew
Monkey Tail spiral design plate.
"PI (Aelindrome in 314159)
Spiral tears are
cut....
A sector’s area alters —
pi."
—@anthonyetherin
"strikestep kickstarter"
benthic lassitude · by thud loosened
rage moly
minced festerings
subfusc field · of faint markings
eyespeck intervals · moved all around
in fool queue
avoid comments
pass Frankford · of the fraught Watcher
"Lycophron & the Leprechaun"
empty bowls cascading
decayed auction darkened
for awhile yet, whirr spins
whiplash to eclipse dust
helium mulled mudroom
meerkats drenched in pinchbeck
alibi born lyreknob
lurch auction of rock shards
"Years ago, my mother-in-law started reading The Exorcist. She said it was the most evil book she’d ever read, so she threw it into the sea. I bought another copy, soaked it, and left it by her bed." —@mylesjaybee.bsky.social
"There are YouTube videos showing abunch of hermit crabs lining up in size order and trading shells." —@kentpeterson
"I turned to fiction because I couldn’t capture the experience of being bipolar any other way."
"fake rush of wings"
short cortado · bright tenancy
near Easter
weak elegy
the organ jeers · don't go yet
dawn gaslights ·early despairs
brittle tools
spurious calm
"We are all here, drunkards and harlotts
And how joyless we are together!
On the walls, flowers and birds
Languish about clouds.
You smoke the black pipe,
So strange this smoke over it.
I dressed in a narrow skirt
To look more shapely.
Oh, how my heart is yearning!
Amn’t I waiting for my death hour?
And a woman who is dancing now
Certainly is going to hell."
—Anna Akhmatova via
"After a nightmare move—a proper, unremitting nightmare of a move—tonight is my last night in the apartment. I am very sad and very excited. Surely the Germans have a word for this?"
"Umzugswehfreude - the bittersweet pain-pleasure of moving house" —@josephsfurey
"...poetry alone with the first throb of its metre, can tell us whether the depression is the kind of depression that drives a man to suicide, or the kind of depression that drives him to Trivoli." —G K Chesterton via
The Charles Ruas Archive comes to PennSound.
"highlight reel"
furioso errors
artifex dwarf warthog
slowly then flail sliding
asleep meeping glibber
"goblinmaxxing in the mud tumor"
tears of rage · subfusc rental
the chill numbs
choughs in drivethrough
bright spot · for a brumous day
"And ask not why, where reason never was." —George Meredith
The ship shall be nailed, the shield be bound.