( via )

( via / my painting "blasphemies of the dwarf jester" [1985] )

Ali Baba.

"The golden wind of autumn
has scattered me everywhere."

— Velimir Khlebnikov via @GertieWentworth

Jboku'ile. (One day!)

faithless love

festival holes
a hovel stifles

if sloth leaves
its leaf shovel

lost false hive

Unk’àtân.

( via / me )

☿ Azoth.

Random # 329 = 670 in base-7; 6 + 7 + 0 = 13 lines

legend-ridden pageant
my labor swims crimson
torn up roads eternal
words for the prod-bodkin

tie my mask to frisk in
creep like blown-glass tone arm
the parking lot orchid
my sunglasses dun-shroud

sharpened shade · my sherpas are warning
   blinkless dash cams fink
of all the gin joints · in the jaunty world
   on the crimson tide of snidecraft
i make legends of the lodged dreams · but only these

"Of course I feel bad for the hostages and the couple of people in Israel killed by bombs, but y'know what? I feel about 1,200/40,005 = 3% as bad about that as I do for the Palestinians killed so far."

"In a time of bad communications, when any self-transcendence is hard to come by, to perceive the existence of a reality beyond all constructions of the consciousness is to experience a kind of call to prophecy." --Richard Wilbur

Additional footage. (via @joshtpm)

( via / via )

Senofu Mask.

"please bury me
with no casket, no prayers
face down, away
from this shrapnel-filled world:
the note in an aid worker's hand"

--@ericcoliu

"I’m not sure trade publishers even use that term anymore. They’re not really interested in middling sellers." (via @pauldeane3)

Random # 84 = 150 in base-7; 1 + 5 + 0 = 6 lines

equinox ills faring
on contested bearing
sew without a thimble
thesterness crews tremble
nearer car connecting
renowned thirls collecting

The harshness of my work.

( lanny quarles on fb / via )

Crucifixion.

random # 146 = 266 in base-7; 2 + 6 + 6 = 14 lines

languishing in the lit dark
caravan of gold coins
meets my late carcass
iv'ry or high-impact
plastic of the plorant gate
it's a plan
preternatural narghilay
caterpiller offers kit
nenuphar cosplay
in the lit dark derogate
all that isn't Helen
derne henchmen
following my Ford convertible
into the Alpine tunnel

Touching foreheads, maybe?

"eye of the hurricane
alone in the dark I look
into my life"

--@ericcoliu

New car blues.

( me / via )

New edition of The Angel of Death--my palindrome poem.

“Now the Sirens have a weapon even more terrible than their song, namely, their silence.”
—Kafka

“Listen to a lonely anesthesia wave. Nepenthe mirrors nothing whenever I embrace her.”
—@lori_wike

Banquet of a Hundred Demons.

"I broadcast white noise

I broadcast white noise;
alas, white is not a thing. Regret
whitewashes hindsight.
Smoke stings silk. Sweetness is like
whiteness. Screams: Don’t do it!
It is I! Be sweet dark dear!"

--Unica Zürn via

Short animation involving dolls.

( via / via via @grimartgroup )

Absinthe.

Random # 251 = 506 in base-7; 5 + 0 + 6 = 11 lines

Woe rides. Water sidles.
Waves ferry. Thought narrows.
Crystal moon. Crowdcounts wane.
The crutch scrapes. Draw tapeworm.
Learn signs. Love tinsel.
Last chance. Suspect cancer.
Books pile up. Bale hollows.
Bus'ness rules. Chase fool's-fire.
We are fine. War bonus.
Weary slog. Shoes soggy.
Shapes haunt. Hear the winter.

Sloping off t’pub a-bloody-gain. (via @grimartgroup)

"I have arrived somewhere, via poetry, that is realer than real, and it is a reality that defies time and space. I think of a line in a poem by Linda Pastan, 'You Are Odysseus,' spoken by Penelope: 'Only my weaving is real.' " --Diane Seuss

"You're trying to divide by zero."

( me / via )

"Snorri, in reproducing both the traditional and innovatory forms of Háttalykill as well as giving examples of other metres that had never in the ordinary way been used by Norse poets before, must also to a certain extent be said to be exemplifying what was theoretically possible in Norse verse, not what had actually been practised." (Translated 190ff.)

"By the way, Melville reads Old Books. He has borrowed Sir Thomas Browne of me and says finely of the speculations of the Religio Medici that Browne is a kind of 'crack'd Archangel.' Was ever anything of this sort said before by a sailor?
- Evert Duyckinck to his brother George.

Upon his return from adventures at sea, Evert Duyckinck had given Melville the freedom of his 16,000 volume library."

--@gregorykindall

Time Enough at Last.

Random # 133 = 270 in base-7; 2 + 7 + 0 = 9 lines

substance stinted · subsidence
of the Great Salt Lake · liripoop
serves me less & less · i linger in tidepools
old films i understood once · ev'rything
wobbles, like a Wikipedia · page that hands
will not let alone · lately
the sky cracks · over a stern cradle
of monsters who march · like regular guys
with guns trained · on my unarmed truth

Dragonfly pendant.

( via / via )

L'Avventura (1960). ☆☆☆☆☆

Random # 75 = 135 in base-7; 1 + 3 + 5 = 9 lines

embroiled browsers · light falling on ivy
between pale pillars · the postulated day
black coat or crow · casting the runes

so much stuff in storage · shelves untouched
years at a time · the yak-butter lamp
   of my time in Zubenelg

yet winging anyway · a new book i made
   capture of a cobweb scheme
   for awhile for sale

Animated appliance.

"In the Middle Ages, elves were thought to use 𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 or ‘elf-magic’ to cause irrational thoughts. Imagine never really knowing if you were thinking straight or an elf just made it seem that way. Germans would even say 'Have the elves gotten to you?' during arguments." --@wylfcen

Translators.

( via / via )

"The real reason he was placed under house arrest was that he’d verbally attacked Italo Balbo, a transatlantic pilot who was a hero in Italy, even more popular than Mussolini himself."

eadd: ecofatalism

a felt mosaic
Califoma set

malefic stoa
I am sole fact

facial motes
fatal is come

if a calm toe's
moat is fecal

(2009)

"Cohn even bugged his director's office at Columbia (when Welles became aware of what was happening he signed off each day with a greeting to Cohn)."

"Stet

Last meme down: to off our inner faith in
lit ions, amen (fin), fume of tore and throw,
stone hid unfelt, from 'we' (from an 'I' to an 'I').
Nil with rot, a minute off deforms an eon
of meat run low, no foment, a tired finish,
mere sunlit affair. Oh, to find moon, went
wet at dim. Afternoon sinner, hum if fool
is true of mow, of annihilated front-men,
stunt-man, of him, an indoor Eiffel Tower,
non-sonata writ mute. For me, no HD life. If
radio, some worn tune. Then, main lift-off:
off-line, not no raft, I swim out here. Damn
if’n I wasted no moment of hurt on a rifle.
Old 'No room at the inn,' i.e., FU. Warn: stiff me
One time, shame on, off, until worn adrift.
Must we fail in one form to find another?"

--Dora Malech via

"Ronald Wilson Reagan: An Ode" & others.

( via / via )

Arctic Hare.

"DANS L’ATTELAGE D’UN AUTRE AGE
(Line from a poem by Henri Michaux)

Eyes, days, door, the old country.
Eagle eyes, a thousand days old.

Ermenonville 1957"

--Unica Zürn via

New Calligraphy by Geof Huth.

"hazy twilight ...
rain washing a mother's blood
into her children's blood"

--@ericcoliu via

"One night the black cat, which a few minutes before I had seen rippling down into the basement where I had arranged toilet facilities for it in an attractive setting, suddenly reappeared on the threshold of the music room, in the middle of my insomnia and a Wagner record, arching its back and sporting a neck bow of white silk which it could certainly never have put on all by itself."

( via / via )

Rune of roses.

“But for me, success is not a public thing. It’s a private thing. It’s when you have fewer and fewer regrets.”

- Toni Morrison via @everysongiveeve

Revolving shimmer.

Random # 310 = 622 in base-7; 6 + 2 + 2 = 10 lines

equinox urn · Mickeymouse
   skull askance on the back glass
can't leave my lane · long shadows
   zebra the warming pavement

at some point permafrost · translates to trudge-floor
   outrage to anyway
a cooling comes · & you kind of unclench
   having nudged away the news

the power you would ply · amounted to zilch
   that wild roaring a zephyr

Fragment of prayer.

( me / via )

Rainbow spiral of tiles.

surgery on my despair
that never asked a dime of me
vampire by the light of day
& ever-shrouding atmosphere

yet more than that i learn from how
the shards of broken windows land
no elegy i say aloud
can match the wrack of ev'ry plan

the surgeon that is my despair
casts shadow-forms against the moon
& i a vampire shorn of pain
collect the fruits of being pure

"Whoever takes upon himself to translate contracts a debt; to discharge it, he must pay not with the same money, but the same sum." via @jeremylybarger via @_ryanruby_

"Writers can be divided into meteors, planets and fixed stars."

—Schopenhauer (Hollingdale) via @timesflow

Eurydice.

( me / via )

Pebbles and shells.

“The fact that through a work of art a truth is experienced that we cannot attain in any other way constitutes the philosophic importance of art, which asserts itself against all attempts to rationalize it away.” — Gadamer via @vjoshuaadams via @minxmarple

" 'You cannot leave blood in the streets and go away,' he added. 'You must at least collect the blood'."

what we have
instead of portals
buzzing hive
what we have
through stained glass heave
these fragrant petals
what we have

instead of portals

The Harvest.

( via / via )

Scarborough Fair.

Random # 53 = 74 in base-7; 7 + 4 = 11 lines

i will or i will be soon
   even these torn stories
cascade into Grob's Attack
   chèvrechoutisme
where the turquoise curves shimmer
   the rot almost gone
in the labyrinth alley
   the red fence vanished
i use to find where to turn
   the backyard revealed
i never saw all these years

Budapest, 1955.

"By vast pains we mine into the pyramid; by horrible gropings we come to the central room; with joy we espy the sarcophagus; but we lift the lid— and no body is there! —"

- Herman Melville, Pierre; or, The Ambiguities via @aliner

Montblanc ink pen on paper.

( me / via )

Heart of the Scorpion.

"Solitude, my mother, tell me my life again."

— O. V. de Milosz via @isidro_li

The leaping or flickering of autumn.

Random # 214 = 424 in base-7; 4 + 2 + 4 = 10 lines

elongated limbo · in the lighthouse
   bells · antelucan bells
stern barricades · stymie our going
   it is late, late, so very late
   & the wheels run
i stagger · i know stints of being sure
in the longhouse · where the lighthouse has gone
   somber half-worlds crumpled
menhir & shadows clustered · i climb a pale road
   out of the irked room shambles
& look back where · a cloud lingered

"...historical narratives are ways of saying 'we’re good and we’re right; and the other side is wrong and bad'. That is the thing that is very hard to let go of." (via @aliner)