Gerty Gerty Gerty Stein is Back Back Back.
"Twitter is a former conference hotel that got sold off to a budget chain and now the pool is drained, the parking lot is potholes and breakfast is Great Value cornflakes" --@Sensualcmt via Mark Saltveit on mastodon
duck into rabbit
by magic of cicadas
& then neither one
suddenly shadows perish
spun of mechanical prayer
Ģ̴̶̸̴̭͍̰̘̟̜̈́̎̔ͣ̄̂́ͪ̚͡M̶̷̢͈̬̞̗̤̞͆̉ͮͦͭͮ͋̂͘͝_̢̲̯̟̭͐͐.
"Fibonacci Aelindrome
1-1-2-3-5-8-13
No sires
a progeny
of tenacious sums,
we deny,
often,
a progression."
--Anthony Etherin, from Fabric
Plano Rona LP. (One drawback with reversing a primitive electronic album, i belatedly realized, is that pure generated-waves such as sine & square are highly symmetrical, thus changing relatively imperceptibly when run backwards. Almost any other sound-source would be more noticeable! The differences i can hear are more due to the control device itself: attack, sustain, & fade, which become, perhaps, a cumulative effect of slightly-increased uncanniness.)
"An apocalypse is the opposite of a dream. A dream is falser than the outer life. But the end of the world is more actual than the world it ends." --GK Chesterton
〜⚪︎〜.
"He knew that there was no point in claiming that if the play had needed cuts he would have made them before he finished it. Every day now he made excisions, and he thought it strange that after a few hours, he remained the only one who noticed the gaps, the missing moments." --Colm Tóibín, The Master
accumulation
other rule of entropy
clutter increases
in the house & in the mind
can't find what you're looking for
as if anyone
could make things clear · not the clear
more than the obscure
chirring waves overhead blend
into the heat of summer
"If one is defective, as are we all in some way, being uniquely defective is something of a consolation in the absence of a cure." --The Spectral Link
C o d e ⇾ s t r u c t u r e s.
🦠.
"Once having consigned the dead to the ground, the living do not wish the dead to return, not really. They feel that the dead are strangers to life, and especially to the present. Still wearing their old suits and gowns, and burdened with their outdated notions and former bad habits, the dead are like discharged servants: they have found another situation." --Bruce Duffy, The World as I Found It (1987; reissued 2010)
Aelindrome- Plano fist: 'tis no flap. (12321,12321)
Straw man argument relying on the reader not realizing that this sort of disposable nonfiction which takes 300 pages to convey one idea (that is only a half-truth at best) is somehow the norm in the history of books. Part of today's junk culture, rather.
Wrong attitude. A careerist philosopher looks for things to say in order to put a personal brick in someone else's edifice of explanation. A dedicated philosopher tries to gain insights & the insight is the point.
"After the breath stops, the words listen." --Spicer
besieged beast
assigned tilth merle
agile bed
adjust ebb delve
baulk ascend
Till the Real Thing Comes Along.
"A Postscript to the Berkeley Renaissance
What have I lost? When shall I start to sing
A loud and idiotic song that makes
The heart rise frightened into poetry
Like birds disturbed?
I was a singer once. I sang that song.
I saw the thousands of bewildered birds
Breaking their cover into poetry
Up from the heart.
What have I lost? We lived in forests then,
Naked as jaybirds in the ever-real,
Eating our toasted buns and catching flies,
And sometimes angels, with our hooting tongues.
I was a singer once. In distant trees
We made the forests ring with sacred noise
Of gods and bears and swans and sodomy,
And no one but a bird could hear our voice.
What have I lost? The trees were full of birds.
We sat there drinking at the sour wine
In gallon bottles. Shouting song
Until the hunters came.
I was a singer once, bird-ignorant.
Time with a gun said, 'Stop,
Find other forests. Teach the innocent.'
God got another and a third
Birdlimed in Eloquence.
What have I lost? At night my hooting tongue,
Naked of feathers and of softening years,
Sings through the mirror at me like a whippoorwill
And then I cannot sleep.
'I was a singer once,' it sings.
'I sing the song that every captured tongue
Sang once when free and wants again to sing.
But I can sing no song I have not sung.'
What have I lost? Spook singer, hold your tongue.
I sing a newer song no ghost-bird sings.
My tongue is sharpened on the iron's edge.
Canaries need no trees. They have their cage."
--Jack Spicer, 1954
"If Pessoa promoted Sebastianism, it's not because he believed in it but because he didn't." --Richard Zenith, intro to Fernando Pessoa: Selected Poems
🟠🟡🟣.
"We see now, as our forebears never could, where this overweening enterprise was leading--to the ruin of humankind, or of as much of humankind, at least, as has cast its lot with Biz. Civ. But a ruin, let us admit it, that is altogether fitting and proper, a thoroughly merited ruin, which we are obliged to inhabit as becomes decaying gentry. That is to say, with as much style as we can muster, with whatever pride we can still pretend to, and with, most importantly, a perfect nonchalance." --Thomas Disch, On Wings of Song (1979)
"Stars, I Have Seen Them Fall
Stars, I have seen them fall,
But when they drop and die
No star is lost at all
From all the star-sown sky.
The toil of all that be
Helps not the primal fault;
It rains into the sea,
And still the sea is salt."
--A E Housman
The Barbie/Oppenheimer crossover has begun.
"The Ballad of Halla and Baekdu"
the names of the hours of the night
break the jaw to say them
yet are they not known otherwise
& light is at a premium
the precious, short-lived bulbs
dance away under our outstretched hands
Today in pulp I look at the scandalous history of lady jeans.
"Blue racoons are weeping blood" --Li Ho (Li He)
( via / lanny quarles on fb )
"already
three-quarters around
life's circle
from this point forward
just counting tree rings"
--an'ya
"i like to lie in the dark and remember things" --@katefolk
"Promising to address a point but then avoiding it by going on a long digression is a rhetorical device known as APOPLANESIS." --@HaggardHawks
“Muses!
Cite
Open or often
No sadness.
Send a song of bards,
Time opal as opera.
Muses!
Palinodes revered,
I ride, reversed on:
I lapse,
Sum a reposal ( a poem).
Its drab fog no sadness,
Send a sonnet for one poetic.”
--Anthony Etherin
