Tuesday, September 26, 2006

5.

rain torn a
nightclub child's wouldn't squall · gulls throughout
this dull light · all things running along brain thin
immortal glory

obsidian slash portal
rain torn now
twinkling hist'ry starts affadavit victim
knoll functioning Miniron at orb


"Besides, such a crowd of well-meaning, amiable, most respectable men have broken down of late years the pales of Parnassus, and become squatters on the sacred mount, that the claim of poets to be a peculiar people is getting disallowed." --Smith


For*ign Bab*s in B*ijing.


On my victrola- Oum Kalthoum


Monday, September 25, 2006

"and if I ever lose my eyes
I won't have to cry no more"

-Cat St*v*ns


4.
storm child polyps don't
impair scrum thrifty silkworm
blackouts adamant

spool commission slag know sport
anything adumbrating


"...The gold
hides in the ground

the way tomorrow's weather
hides in the air,

the way what I will finally know
hides in me now."

--Rob*rt K*lly

Lost Book of 3nki.


Sunday, September 24, 2006

"break room linoleum
the dead cricket now
part of the decor"

--Dov* Linkhorn


3.
squall Uqbar ruinous constantly

blindfold claw furl squid
oblong run
lapwing across crisply mutiny final
angular pools rub Asgard

sculpt loss folks is today rasp
insight stunt
slag cyborg who all with instant odds
of claim flown idiocy schism that wallops

twinkling affliction
ruck frost a psychic
squamous autopsy simply


"A man reaches his limits as to thought long before he reaches his limits as to expression; and a haunting suspicion of this is one of the peculiar bitters of the literary life." --Al*xand*r Smith


M*di*val Cats.


Saturday, September 23, 2006

    "Whenever a famous movie actor, director or producer passes away, it makes front page news.  Sometimes a screenwriter's death also makes headlines.  On the other hand, it's rare when the passing of other eminent film industry professionals attracts much media attention.  All this is a roundabout way of saying that many of you might not be aware that Sven Nykvist, one of the true giants in the field of cinematography, has died.  For film aficionados across the globe, this is discouraging news indeed, though we still have Nykvist's incredible body of work to remind us of his talent.
    In his illustrious career, Nykvist was most widely celebrated for his collaborations with Swedish director Ingmar Bergman and won Academy awards for 1973's "Cries and Whsipers" and 1983's "Fanny and Alexander." Nykvist's resume also includes films for American directors such as Woody Allen ("Another Woman"), Philip Kaufman ("The Unbearable Lightness of Being") and Bob Rafelson (the 1981 remake of "The Postman Always Rings Twice").  Additonally, he teamed up with fellow Swede Lasse Hallstrom for the Texas based "What's Eating Gilbert Grape."

 I guess I should have included a footnote in my email about Sven Nykvist yesterday, but I was in the computer lab at school and was having a hard time collecting my thoughts, especially given the glitch I experienced the first time I tried composing the message.  Anyway, if I could add one personal thought to the original missive it would be that when I started really reading and studying a lot about movies when I was in 6th-7th grade, Nykvist was the first cinemtographer  I learned to recognize by name. Of course, it would be a few years before a jr. high kid growing up in Garland in the early 70's would get the chance to actually see a Bergman-Nykvist film...but at least I was prepared when the day finally came.  
    Anyway, cliche that it is, his passing only reminds me of my own faded youth...and how much more I've learned since then."

--M*lani* Pruit
"Morning train--
Entering the dark tunnel
Suddenly: my face"

--Marco Fratic*lli


Fathom.


2.
smackdown and national bruxism
pillow cold warn strongly opal possibly
lookout card
Jada do craving

it conspiracy finish
pallor practically Algol
smackdown passport cranch
carving you Ramadan giddy Visa rush

squall psalm nightclub warrior giddy
grassy knoll
Miniron tribulations wouldn't


'Never value anything as profitable to thyself which shall compel thee to break thy promise, to lose thy self-respect, to hate any man, to suspect, to curse, to act the hypocrite, to desire anything which needs walls and curtains..' --Marcus Aur*lius


Friday, September 22, 2006

"The silence after geese
fade from sight
part of me following"

--David 3lliott


   Rocky Mini-World 134340

1.
if Youth throughout autopsy
all twinkling history
silkworm affadavit lurch had pink
had a gnat simply a sandbag champion kill

a lion
to blackjack
shocking catacombs swimming
curb stand twistboards up digital fracas chimp

sucking wound for pools
victim frabjous it crypt to crook run
full show and truthful
blackouts brown bag a popular ramp

razor stars
solid doubting wobbly world idolatry
suspicions and rumors spliff
that polygraph python dusk

a young child assassin ring turncoat
additional crash
can commission downtown abruptly think gulls
Oak Cliff quick


Nykvist.


Thursday, September 21, 2006

Ixion · oxidizing
Sisyphus pools · indigo loon
axis mists adorn · willow
tzompantli · birdtalk and aggry
ash bilk osmium · dying opt
thwart · sunlight usurp



"...the sons of bitches who killed America once & for all are walking around free. That’s what drives me crazy. And they will die comfortably in their beds. That, too, drives me crazy. But nothing drives me as fucking crazy as the fact that roughly half my countrymen inhabit the same moral hell as the torturers who rule us. That fact drives me nearly to despair."


"At heart
I am a Moslem
at heart
I am an American artist"

--Patti Smith, 3ast*r


"In truth, 'Seattle's wisdom' came from the pen of a white screenwriter from Texas, and his moving words were the single highlight of an obscure television script on pollution produced by the Southern Baptist Convention in 1972." --Playing Indian, which points to R*cov*ring th* Word: 3ssays on Nativ* Am*rican Lit*ratur* pp 497-536.


Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Rambl* Hous* Onlin* ! (K**l*r, Gadsby, Cadav*r of Gid*on Wyck...)




   "XXXIII.

Of meadows drowsy with Trinacrian bees,
Of shapes that moved a rising mist among--
Persephone between the Cypress trees--
Of lengthier shades along the woodland flung,
Of calm upon the hardly whispering seas,
Of cloud that to the distant island clung--
He made of emerald evening and of these
A holier song than ever yet was sung.

But silence and the single-thoughted night,
Hearing such music took him for their own
To that long land, where, men forgotten quite
Harpless he errs by Lethe stream alone.
He never more will know that wind-flower's white--
He never more shall hear uneasy autumn moan."

--B*lloc


"Note: Jane Dunlap is a pseudonym for Adelle Davis who is better known for her books on natural foods and nutrition."


"starting to rain
shower of petals
on last year's garden"

--M L Bittl*-D*Lapa


Tuesday, September 19, 2006

alas
("Tornado Ov*r Kansas" by John St*uart Curry)


   "CI.

Angels I saw at night knock at the wine-house gate:
They shaped the clay of Adam, flung into moulds its weight.

Spirits of the Unseen World of Purities divine,
With me an earth-bound mortal, poured forth their 'wildering wine.

Heaven, from its heavy trust aspiring to be free,
The duty was allotted, mad as I am, to me.

Thank God my friend and I once more sweet peace have gained!
For this the houris dancing thanksgiving cups have drained.

With Fancy's hundred wisps what wonder that I've strayed,
When Adam in his prudence was by a grain bewrayed?

Excuse the wrangling sects, which number seventy-two:
They knock at Fable's portal, for Truth eludes their view.

No fire is that whose flame the taper laughs to scorn:
True fire consumes to ashes the moth's upgarnered corn.

Blood fills recluses' hearts where Love its dot doth place,
Fine as the mole that glistens upon a charmer's face.

    As Háfiz, none Thought's face
    Hath yet unveiled; not e'en
    Since for the brides of Language
    Combed have their tresses been."

--Háfiz (tr H Bickn*ll, in: P*rsian Lit*ratur* 1900)


Scifi stars list with maps. (via M*tafilt*r)


L*agu* of th* Militant Godl*ss.


On my victrola- Lucinda Williams: Car Wh**ls on a Grav*l Road


"moss hung trees
a deer moves into
the hunter's silence"

--Winona Bak*r


Monday, September 18, 2006

"Cambodia is a dream come true for international losers--a beautiful but badly beaten woman, staked out on an anthill for every predator in the world to do with what he wishes." --Anthony Bourdain, A Cook's Tour (2001)


    "xxii.

Mother of all my cities once there lay
   About your weedy wharves an orient shower
   Of spice and languorous silk and all the dower
That Ocean gave you on his bridal day.
And now the youth and age have passed away
   And all the sail superb and all the power;
   Your time's a time of memory like that hour
Just after sunset, wonderful and grey.

Too tired to rise and much too sad to weep,
   With strong arm nerveless on a neveless knee,
Still to your slumbering ears the spousal deep
   Murmurs his thoughts of eld eternally;
But your soul wakes not from its holy sleep
Dreaming of dead delights beside a tideless sea."

--B*lloc


The Age of Propaganda is followed by The Age of Mosquitos.

--sayings of Asmoday


Patriots.


R*d Star Rogu*.


Sunday, September 17, 2006

alas
(via flyingturtl*toys dot com)


"sharply we flower in this foul farewell" --Conrad Aik*n


   "DOWN CHANNEL

The Channel pours out on the Ebb in a river gigantic.
  There is no Moon.
The Dark is low in a cloud on the huge Atlantic.
  We'll be raising the Lizard soon.

There will be no meeting of eyes, nor any blessing,
  After the run.
The lips are still and the hand has ceased from caressing.
  There is nothing more to be done."

--Hillair* B*lloc, Sonn*ts & V*rs* (1944)


"This has to be the most handy piece of cooking instruction embedded in a cultural text since Master P's "Ghetto D"."


'Man and the unthought are, at the archaeological level, contemporaries.' --Foucault, quoted in: Robin Blas*r, "Th* Practic* of Outsid*"


Saturday, September 16, 2006

"But in these times of global madness, as World War III perhaps gets underway, who really cares about Language Poetry being to the Academy of American Poets what Stravinsky is to Brahms, or what Cindy Sherman is to Edward Weston?"


War pigs. (via Juan Col*)


"winter moon
taking all night to cross
so small a pond"

--K*n Hurm, in: Haiku Mom*nt ed Bruc* Ross (1993)



   "BAT-GEODE

Bat-geode, the
geode has a bat inside it.

Fine inlay work, gold
and brown for the wings and peak ears

fuzzy russet blot face.

Upright phoenix bird
out of a grey sun, an iris, an orchid
without a name...

no, it
is a bat, crystal bat

split, spread flat
its guts

yellow quartz.

When I look inside
I see layer and layer of cracked ice, long
plains of ice, nothing on them, the plains

crazed, nothing on them, cold plains of nothing.

Only the wind
moves over them, the wind

and one crystal bat looking for another."

--John Tagg*rt, Prism and th* Pin* Twig (1977)


Friday, September 15, 2006



A not long ago pic.


Original, anci*nt music at Civilization On* dot com.


OuLiPo links. (via wood_s lot)


"...the most influential online zine for American poetry is published by John Tranter in Australia."


'CASIDA OF THE RECLINING WOMAN

To see you naked is to remember the earth.
The smooth earth, swept clean of horses.
The earth without a reed, the pure form
closed to the future: confine of silver.

To see you naked is to comprehend the desire
of the rain which seeks the feeble form,
or the fever of the sea when its immense face
cannot find the light of its cheek.

The blood will resound through the bedrooms
and arrive with flashing sword,
but you will not know where the heart
of the toad or the violet hide.

Your belly is a battle of roots,
your lips are a blurred dawn.
Under the tepid roses of the bed
the dead moan, waiting their turn.'

--F*d*rico García Lorca (tr N di Giovanni), in: S*l*ct*d Po*ms (1955)


Thursday, September 14, 2006

alas
(via tropicalisland dot d*)


"I hear the waves on our island shore
They sound much louder than they did before
A rising swell flecked with foam
Threatens the existence of our island home.
 
A strong wind blows in from a distant place
The palm trees bend like never before
Our crops are lost to the rising sea
And water covers our humble floor.

Our people are leaving for a distant shore
And soon Tuvalu may be no more
Holding on to the things they know are true
Tuvalu my Tuvalu, I cry for you.

And as our people are forced to roam
To another land to call their home
And as you go to that place so new
Take a little piece of Tuvalu with you.

Tuvalu culture is rare and unique
And holds a message we all should seek
Hold our culture way up high
And our beloved Tuvalu will never die."

--Jan* R*stur*


Shadowplay.


tarragon · waft prolong iron
harrows Ogpu · forlorn Angkor
swimming rat · afflict still up
grow polyps floss · portal into
ogham mists · iron torturing inch
   what raw hronir · crouch


Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Strang* Statu*s. (via Lisablog)


How living still is good, amidst anxious chaos.


"I have always been convinced that jeeps killed about as many people as any other weapon in World War II." --Bill Mauldin, Th* Brass Ring (1971)


   foggy moon · again
ago syzygy · umgang
   for torturing · ink
sandcoil · ignorant random
winds anvil · wailing ago


Gr*at Maya Droughts.


"The hour is starry, and the airs that stray,
Sad wanderers from their golden home of day,
On night's black mountain melt and fade away
In sorrow that is music."

--B*ddo*s


On Mahfouz.


Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Hidd*n Citi*s.


"We had fed the heart on fantasies,
The heart's grown brutal from the fare..."

--Y*ats


"...the holocaust
of the poorest of the poor
..."


This azury pink dawnlight, swiftly lost.


affadavit of off · salt
adorns · patchouli avowal
without utmost · pools afar
doors of affadavit · asking
raucous slalom · storm basilisk
adjourn · pools crystal


On my victrola- F*rnanda Maria Canta F*rnanda Maria


Monday, September 11, 2006

Mid-road arbow row on Royal, cut out for truck roofs to pass.


   "In Love For Long
 
I've been in love for long
With what I cannot tell
And will contrive a song
For the intangible
That has no mould or shape,
From which there's no escape.

It is not even a name,
Yet is all constancy;
Tried or untried, the same,
It cannot part from me;
A breath, yet as still
As the established hill.

It is not any thing,
And yet all being is;
Being, being, being,
Its burden and its bliss.
How can I ever prove
What it is I love?

This happy happy love
Is sieged with crying sorrows,
Crushed beneath and above
Between todays and morrows;
A little paradise
Held in the world's vice.

And there it is content
And careless as a child,
And in imprisonment
Flourishes sweet and wild;
In wrong, beyond wrong,
All the world's day long.

This love a moment known
For what I do not know
And in a moment gone
Is like the happy doe
That keeps its perfect laws
Between the tiger's paws
And vindicates its cause."

--Edwin Muir


Soci*ty for Art of Imagination.


"...in the Mexican version of Abbot y Costello contra La Momia there is a sub-plot uncannily like the Fockers. The name of the family is Focas, or Los Focas. Cantinflas plays the part of the male nurse. Moya Focas being the name of the character."


On my victrola- Utr*nja


Sunday, September 10, 2006

"...one feels that in Iran the masters just mentioned had finally, after several centuries, reached the point where they had exhausted the belles-lettrist possibilities of Arabic and were now very busily burning up its resources. How much further can one get in perfection than al-Hamadâni? He could compose a book on a certain theme, beginning with the last line and working back, line by line, to the first line, and it would be a marvel of rhetorical artistry." --Th* Cambridg* History of Iran, v. 4 (1975)


"My dream that Ratzi would go into a conclave and emerge to announce that it was all a mistake, the papacy was dissolved, and good Catholics should all embrace an enlightened materialistic naturalism hasn't come true just yet."


"War shrinks everything. It means less time, less tolerance, less imagination, less curiosity, less play. We cannot read the leisurely wasteful masterpieces of the past without being irritated by the amount they take for granted. ...Yet we must remember that the life which many of us are now leading is unfriendly to the appreciation of literature...In these philistine conditions it is as unfair to judge art as if we were seasick. It is even more unfair to blame writers for their action or inaction in the years before the war, when we still tolerate in office nearly all the old beaming second-rate faces, with their indomitable will to power, and their self-sealing tanks of complacency." --Cyril Connolly, in: Writ*rs of World War II


"It is important to see that fascism is a disease, as catching as influenza; we all when tired and disillusioned have fascist moments, when belief in human nature vanishes, when we burn with anger and envy like the underdog and the sucker, when we hate the virtuous and despise the weak, when we feel as Goebbels permanently feels, that all fine sentiment is ballyhoo, that we are the dupes of our leaders, and that the masses are evil, to be resisted with the cruelty born of fear. This is the theological sin of despair, a Haw-Haw moment which quickly passes, but which fascism has made permanent, and built up into a philosophy. In every human being there is a Lear and a fool, a hero and a clown who comes on the stage and burlesques his master. He should never be censored, but neither be allowed to rule." --ibid


"After several e-mails of discussion, she asked me to do a renga with her about peace without mentioning the word."


Saturday, September 09, 2006

distinct walk Arkikosa
nor Algol Arkikosa

azury slag patchouli
blowback skald Arkikosa

can obsidian light stay
grisly Whig Arkikosa

cardboard mask Grinchus tsantsa
you that rock Arkikosa



"Next time someone diagnoses "the situation of poetry" in earnest tones."


"And it was now, when you no longer saw, heard, smelled war, that a deadening acclimatization to it began to set in. (...) It was from this new insidious echoless propriety of ruins that you breathed in all that was most malarial. Reverses, losses, deadlocks now almost unnoticed bred one another; every day the news hammered one more nail into a consciousness which no longer resounded. Everywhere hung the heaviness of the even worse you could not be told and could not desire to hear. This was the lightless middle of the tunnel. Faith came down to a slogan, desperately re-worded to catch the eye, requiring to be pasted each time more strikingly on to hoardings and bases of monuments. ...No, no virtue was to be found in the outward order of things: happy those who could draw from some inner source." --3lizab*th Bow*n, from Th* H*at of th* Day; quoted in: Writ*rs in World War II, ed M Richler (1991)



"Vanity is to a man what the oily secretion is to a bird, with which it sleeks and adjusts the plumage ruffled by whatever causes." --Al*xand*r Smith


"Milman Parry asked an epic singer in Nevesinje, Hercegovina, if he could compose a song about him. Milovan Vojcic' did so, and it has been published in The Singer of Tales." --Lord


"The man who has a grave or two in his heart, does not need to haunt churchyards." --Smith


Friday, September 08, 2006

"They are insouciant against their missing what they have not owned,
     they alone can master this skill
"


"Let me chop apart
With my bare hands
This blurred forest."

--Spic*r


"The tradition is not a rigid monolith outside the singer, but as dynamic as the singers who operate in it, who form and constantly reform it." --Lord, op cit


M. Pavic has now-ish "d*lta-nov*l" out!


Circumstantial assiduous hourglass folk · woo lay loo
Aglow shoal circumstantial · assiduous you'll forsook
Algol ash arousal lull fog · halloa wooly slug
Assiduous circumstantial · Allah forsook golly woo us


(via)


"And so [Avdo Mededovi´c] had a repertory of fifty-eight epics; Parry recorded nine of these on phonograph discs and Nikola Vujnovi´c, Parry's assistant, wrote down four others from Avdo's dictation. ...The total singing time for all the recorded material listed here is approximately fifty-three hours." --Lord


Thursday, September 07, 2006

Coolth. Running on almost nothing. How good i am at that.


Wom*n of th* Asylum.


"...when Parry asked singers when they had finished dictating songs for him whether they thought that sung songs were better than dictated ones or vice versa, their answers invariably were: 'Sung songs are truer, dictated songs are finer.' " --Lord, op cit


Arcosanti craw
scalar posh

as famish into Ithaca wintry school
trawl washboard swag is scrumptious

caravan all basilisk crystal


"For many in Citta slow, the urban ideal is the late-medieval city, a rabbit warren of cobbled streets where people came together to shop, socialize and eat in charming piazzas." --Honoré


"Linguistics is divided like Graves' mythology of mythology, a triple goddess--morphology, phonology, and syntax." --Jack Spic*r


Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Sentence #4, guest-edited by Peter Johnson, is now available.

Peter has selected prose poems for this issue from:

Robert Alexander, John Allman, Nin Andrews, Margaret Atwood, Walter Bergen, Chad Bartlett, Louis E. Bourgeois, John Bradley, Jen Bryant, Laura Chester, Killarney Clary, Peter Conners, Matthew Cooperman, Andy Cox, Talia Danesi, Cortney Davis, Michel Delville, Denise Duhamel, Jamey Dunham, Tom Dvorske, Russell Edson, Richard Garcia, Scott Glassman, Georges Godeau (tr. Kathleen McGookey), Ray Gonzalez, Nolan Heinz, Cecil Helman, Friedrich Holderlin (tr. Paul Hoover and Maxine Chernoff), Louis Jenkins, Brian Johnson, Roxane Beth Johnson, Alice Jones, Christine Boyka Kluge, Ginger Knowlton, Mary A. Koncel, Gerry LaFemina, David Lehman, P. H. Liotta, Rachel Loden, Gian Lombardo, Eric Lorberer, Robert Lunday, Morton Marcus, Campbell McGrath, Joyelle McSweeney, Jay Meek, Christopher Merrill, Robert Miltner, Michelle Noteboom, Nina Nyhart, Ethan Paquin, Jane Lunin Perel, Chris Propst, Kerry Reilly, Morgan Lucas Schuldt, Maureen Seaton, David Shumate, Barry Silesky, James Tate, Ryan van Cleave, Mark Vinz, Liz Waldner, Rosmarie Waldrop, Thom Ward, Charles Harper Webb, Bruce Weigl, Tom Whalen, Elizabeth Willis, Max Winter, Peter Wortsman, Kirby Wright, and Gary Young.

The issue also features essays by Marjorie Perloff, Peter Johnson, and Rolf Hughes. And:
Joe Ahearn reviews Sight Progress, by Zhang Er
Sally Ashton reviews Povel, by Geraldine Kim
Jarret Green reviews The Feast, by Walter Bargen
Brooke Horvath reviews Heart of Anthracite, by Campbell McGrath
Gian Lombardo reviews two books by Carlos M. Luis and Derek White
Ellen McGrath Smith reviews The Richard Nixon Snow Globe, by Rachel Loden
Jerry McGuire reviews Even the Java Sparrows Call Your Hair, by George Kalamaras
Chris Murray reviews nothing fictional but the accuracy or arrangement (she, by Sawako Nakayasu
Ravi Shankar reviews Precise Machine, by Dennis Barone
Rebecca Spears reviews The After-Death History of My Mother, by Sandy McIntosh
Plus the usual bibliography of recent articles and books on prose poetry, prose poets, and the poetics of the prose poem.

Sentence is available at many independent bookstores around the country. If your local book store doesn't carry Sentence, it may order from Bernhard DeBoer. You may subscribe or purchase a single copy at the Sentence website: http://firewheel-editions.org/sentence/current.htm
Sentence is also available from Amazon and EBSCO.


"Two centuries ago, the average pig took five years to reach 130 pounds; today, it hits 220 pounds just after six months and is slaughtered before it loses its baby teeth." --Carl Honoré, In Prais* of Slown*ss (2004)


Always angry, always anxious; but wanting most of all, to follow a narrow path without difficulty or slowdwns. I put on music, and try to think of humans as making only this sound. Not a raucous roar, or cry of pain. Just this. This.


"Why should we not erect an asylum for venerable genius, as we do for the brave and the helpless part of our citizens? It might be inscribed a Hospital for Incurables!" --Curiositi*s


Bitt*r is th* N*w Black.



Arkikosa crawling skald
silk akin
Sogdian tsunami laptop scaffold fry

mask twinkling slow fizz
unknown aggry osmium skin map
alloy idiom

is gibbons
slag skull caracul skimp biz

on asking folly ago idolatry
fizgig fathoms and its usurp sump


"...for this cold impersonal dawn was for me another kind of darkness, a new and secret form of night." --Gw*ndolyn Mac3e*n


Plan*tary Dissid*nts.


Tuesday, September 05, 2006

"A shadowy, unapproachable forest of maple, birch, dogwood, cypress and pine softened by a garland of New England wildflowers: bergamot, columbine, rue anemone, blue violet, creeping phlox, bloodroot, toadflax, and pixie moss. ." (via M*tafilt*r)


marrow turmoil zarf
Munthuch zarf

bright bars Sogdian script aurochs myrrh
murmuring sandalwood zarf

toad dirham parch stomp tumultuous wodwo
Mithra sorrow zarf

aurochs myrrh lair Grinchus waspish chull
dowsing chav talismans zarf


"Sir Robert Cotton (it is said) being one day at his tailor's, discovered (what must have been the antiquary's astonishment!) that the man held in his hand, ready to cut up for measures--the original Magna Charta, with all its appendages of seals and signatures. He bought the singular curiosity for a trifle, and recovered in this manner what had been given over for lost! This anecdote is found in the Colomesiana, page 198; and Colomies long resided and died in this country, a man of pure morals and rigid veracity. The original Magna Charta is certainly preserved in the Cottonian library; it exhibits marks of dilapidation, but whether from the invisible scythe of time, or the humble scissors of the tailor, I leave for the subject of a future archaiological volume." --ibid


Ik Marv*l.


"Sherman's work then descends into darkness..."


Monday, September 04, 2006

"In the sixties you'd count on less than one percent of moulds meeting tolerance, which translated to about three or four hundred diaphragms per day being rejected and sent to orphanages where they'd be used as foundation garments. Nowadays the figure is in the thousands and they go straight to landfill."


   "TV Off

He hears lithe trees and last leaves swatting the glass--

Staring into flames, through thr grille of age
Like a late fish, face clothed with fungus,
Keeping its mouth upstream.

Remorseful for what nobody any longer suffers
Nostalgic for what he would not give twopence to see back
Hopeful for what he will not miss when it fails

Who lay a night and a day and a night and a day
Golden-haired, while his friend beside him
Attending a small hole in his brow
Ripened black."

--T*d Hugh*s


"The situation only makes sense if you consider a separate entity called "American Christianity" which is an entirely separate religion to Christianity." (via robotwisdom)


Taylorism.


"It is a curious circumstance in literature, that we owe Tacitus to this singular copy [from a monast*ry in W*stphalia]; for the Roman Emperor of that name had copies of the works of his illustrious ancestor, placed in all the libraries of the empire, and every year had ten copies transcribed: but the Roman libraries were all destroyed, and the imperial protection has availed nothing against the teeth of time." --Curiositi*s of Lit*ratur*


Sunday, September 03, 2006

finicky chav sharav · coign
of nadir · mokita incog

in this abrupt coolth · Pluto
ablution · no ringing ghost coign

talion potlatch · snitch brillig
hip octopus · griffin incog

obsidian thorns throng · Grinchus
clings · Achamoth coign


Kilim.


Aurochs R*divivus.


Saturday, September 02, 2006

     "Ad Lustrum"

   Boiling rush of gray
clouds still caravan into
   dusk of pyramids;
and our haggard claustration
finds fright unavailing still.


On my victrola- this (no 3nglish).


"Et fit saepe nefas iaculum temptante lacerto." --Lucan vi. 79 ('And many a murder is done when the arm is merely testing the javelin.')


Gr**ning of Gr**nland. (via AL Daily)


Friday, September 01, 2006

Found.


Twilight of th* Wagn*rs.


"Over a period of eight months, beginning in November, 2002, Perelman posted a proof of the Poincaré on the Internet in three installments." (via M*tafilt*r)



ordalic crystal
wrong runway

as it rains, in August, a fifth
occasion

car roof sagging
tugs my hat

azury dawn
school
a road grown wispy


Slow blog.


Zin* Wiki.


Thursday, August 31, 2006

alas
(via saturntoday)


Armagordian knot, kiln, dirham.
Carrion crow, calx, dirham.

Battalions of diamonds again shorn parch stomp
lair dirham.

Scouring carrion
Grinchus abort toad dirham.


"At that point I had no idea what religion I was supposed to be a priest in, but I knew there was a religion somewhere where I was supposed to be a priest." --Isaac Bon*wits, in: B*ing a Pagan, Hopman & Bond (1996)


Th* Long Now Foundation.


Dim*nsional typography.


Wednesday, August 30, 2006

"One of the noteworthy facts about Linear B is that it seems not to have been used for writing Mycenaean oral-traditional literature or even for creating a written Mycenaean literature. Mycenaean literacy served the interests of trade or religion." --Alb*rt Lord, 3pic Sing*rs and Oral Tradition (1991)



"   War Is Better Than Ever

The family of man was once at war
With the family that lived in the cave next door.
And they fought that way for many a year
'Til they learned to conquer hate and fear.
And teamed their forces that they might meet
The looming presence across the street.

And the looming presence became a war
That was even worse than the war before.
And they fought that way for many a year
'Til they learned to conquer hate and fear.
And combined their armies to go put down
The evil force from the other town.

With that evil force they fought a war
That was even worse than the war before.
And they fought that way for many a year
'Til they learned to conquer hate and fear.
And when it was done, they knelt to pray,
But some men worshiped a heathen way.

And religious difference became a war
That was even worse than the war before.
And they fought that way for many a year
'Til they learned to conquer hate and fear.
And built great navies that they might free
The captive peoples across the sea.

And with ships and guns they fought a war
That was even worse than the war before.
And they fought that way for many a year
'Til they learned to conquer hate and fear.
And nations prospered and empires, too,
And the size and scope of the conflicts grew.

And conflicting interests produced a war
That was even worse than the war before.
And they fought that way for many a year
'Til they learned to conquer hate and fear.
And built defenses to guard their shores,
And they fought a war to end all wars.

And the war they fought to end all war
That was even worse than the war before.
And they fought that way for many a year
'Til they learned to conquer hate and fear.
And they counted down, and they set the stage,
And they gave the world the Atomic Age.

And if there comes an atomic war
It will be far worse than the wars before.
There's an ancient, deadly pattern burned,
And the question is, has the family learned?
Or do we still pattern how we behave
After how it was in the family cave?"

--Charl*s Osgood, Nothing Could B* Fin*r Than a Crisis That is Minor in th* Morning (1979)


Cool paintings of an old asylum. (via M*tafilt*r)


Alibi.


Tuesday, August 29, 2006

"Ad lustrum" at Po*mcub* (via Craig Hill).


A fi*ld guid* to 3lvis shrin*s.


This song complains of monotony. But it is that familiar flow, finishing, which would form our worst fright clyting. So sing of no comfort in old songs; sing of what will occur as if it might find us thus happily changing. Isn't it important, though difficult to think through thoroughly? For what good is having imagination, if it only brings forth trivial things?


"I think there are compelling economic, social, health, ecological and even security/defense reasons why local , intensive urban organic farms are the way to go. ."


"War! That awful condition which a famous military man in command of a division, long ago, said was synonymous with Satan and all his cohorts! War! That awful condition of human minds coming down from way, way back of all history; that vast void during which sympathy was not known; during which animals fought with tooth, claw or horn; that vast void during which wounds had no soothing balm, until thirst, agony or a final swoon laid low a gigantic mammoth, or a tiny, gasping fawn! But now, again, in this grand day of Man's magically growing brain, this day of kindly crooning to infants in cribs; kindly talks to boys and girls in school; and blood-tingling orations from thousands of pulpits upon that Holy Command: 'Thou Shalt Not Kill,' now, again, Man is out to kill his own kind." --Gadsby


On my victrola- W*b*rn's S*chs Stück* für Orch*st*r op. 6


Monday, August 28, 2006

alas
Not now a major world but still a Sailor (via moonprinc*ss dot com)


it starts to rain; and in that mismo instant a car crash occurs. My mind grasps it and its half-painful symbolism, as i go on working without stint.


"...Assam tea can be malty, sweet AND smooth..."


"But what would you do if someone dug up the body of Abraham Lincoln, pulled down the monument to George Washington, and took them to Egypt?" --Th* Bat Fli*s Low


"...Kripke's writings...have had more influence on philosophy in the US and the UK than any others since the death of Wittgenstein."


   a pallid hour
Old Kingdom · WalpurgisMart
   strolling · furious
rain · wintry dusk in which flights
of swift thoughts scour ilka sky


"we have a church where the others stood
it's made of ash"

--M*rwin


Sunday, August 27, 2006

i count up what is worth saving, as if this thought could work. But actually i am saving nothing.


"ENVOY FROM D'AUBIGNÉ

Go book

go
now I will let you
I open the grave
live
I will die for us both

go but come again if you can
and feed me in prison

if they ask you why
you do not boast of me
tell them as they
have forgotten
truth habitually
gives birth in private

Go without ornament
without showy garment
if there is in you any
joy
may the good find it

for the others be
a glass broken in their mouths

Child
how will you
survive with nothing but your virtue
to draw around you
when they shout Die die

who have been frightened before
the many

I think of all I wrote in my time
dew
and I am standing in dry air

Here are what flowers there are
and what hope
from my years

and the fire I carried with me

Book
burn what will not abide your light

When I consider the old ambitions
to be on many lips
meaning little there
it would be enough for me to know
who is writing this
and sleep knowing it

far from glory and its gibbets

and dream of those who drank at the icy fountain
and told the truth"

--W S M*rwin, Th* Carri*r of Ladd*rs (1970)


"And that the book got: it sold an estimated 130,000 copies out of an initial print run of 170,000 on the first day."


"...strengthless as a noon-belated moon..." --Francis Thompson


"We find that a disrupter we find that a disrupter is singularly useful in an emergency but entirely impractical when used too continuously. We have returned to our normal footing. We love the hand. The hand that forbids collisions." --Th* Yal* G*rtrud* St*in


Th* 3gyptologist.


Saturday, August 26, 2006

alas
(via artic dot *du slash aic)


You Got away With It.


To think of how many original story plots this surprising fact of global warming now hands an aspiring bard: thrilling flights from collapsing civilization, valiant fights against natural & human chaos; plus what wistful thoughts a bard can sing of a world's long turning into totally otro.



Niagara scirocco waltz
ogham rays crisp basilisk

psalmist's filch tricky logic
scratch accruals form swank cairn

glowing storm tzompantli sough
again shorn parch Umbrist wrath

caracul syzygy tsar
scouring trichignosis night


1939 ascii-art. (via R*b*cca Blood)


"The Japanese knew just how inadequate our equipment was, because they destroyed or captured practically all of it." --W L White, Th*y W*r* 3xp*ndabl* (1942)


" 'There was once a monk called Paphnutius,' said Lincoln Hayes." --Sax Rohm*r, Th* Bat Fli*s Low (1935)


Monk*y Pick*d Oolong.


Friday, August 25, 2006

Ghost Rid*rs on th* Storm.


An inch horizon churns its shadow land this morning,
and i find but a chary vim to hand this morning.

Car bombs downtown paralyzing root and branch
among impostors God's a burning brand this morning.

Your lilt in troublous days aligns my vagrant yaw;
i finish nomad tracks in Maui sand this morning.

Nidor at a standstill, car still wanting aid,
i hum an impish ditty you command this morning.

For Grinchus found upon alarm invasion jangling
his mind was dight with Kali's hall so grand this morning.


"woke up this morning ·: and I got myself a beer
I woke up this morning ·: and I got myself a beer
the future's uncertain and the ·: is always near"

--Jim Morrison

Skinny Dipping.


"Like grey clouds one by one my songs upsoar
Over my soul's cold peaks; and one by one
They loose their little rain, and are no more;
And whether well or ill, to tell me there is none."

--Francis Thompson


1 Nh3 Na6.


"There is no confusion but true.
Get through."

--St*in


Thursday, August 24, 2006

alas
(via hq dot usac* dot army dot mil)

   "Uluru"

1.
A viral shadow
in lily scarab city.

Troops march swiftly through luminous grass
with tongs clutching polyps of viridian.

Lungfish rock
madrigal and glad woman.

Slow walking woman,
magic slag blood spiralling shadow.

Slag blood spiralling spycam wary of rock
scar city.

Sloppy off viridian
crimson grass.

2.
Crystal cast into agony grass,
your spiralling cicala cry a woman.

Droll viridian
madrigal against shadow.

Brick city
radint stomp of cold twinkling glitch rock.

Troops antacid flashback mutiny soft rock
cotton scissors grass.

Viral tong city
blowing dust across crystal woman.

Laugh shadow
following viridian.

3.
Troops build mutiny droog crag viridian
flying ink want rock.

Flying acid bloom troops magnify shadow
on thin grass.

Viral a pallid woman
knows if it's calling in this city.

No city
of viridian.

Lily scarab worn woman
madrigal sings across living rock.

Lungfish crawling across this curious grass
nary a shadow.


"He has said in interviews, only half-jokingly, that he dresses in black because if he shaved his head and wore white robes, it would be too close to what he sings about."


Wednesday, August 23, 2006

   "Panton Pantoum"

duppy slag ink stomp opal
troops and lily scarab

sloppy cold gulls blood dragon
stomp of cold twinkling glitch

troops and lily scarab
crystal want lungfish cargo

stomp of cold twinkling glitch
opal build mutiny droog

crystal want lungfish cargo
duppy slag ink stomp opal

opal build mutiny droog
sloppy cold gulls blood dragon


Gr*co do*s Gr*co.


"A frost upon thy words, intended dog!" --B*ddo*s


Tuesday, August 22, 2006

    The King in Yellow: a Jacobean Noh Play by Graywyvern

ACT I.

Scene 1. A balcony with rail & painted landscape-sky scene beyond. All characters are masked. Masks are cartoonish but enigmatic. And asymmetrical. Costumes are elaborate & non-functional, but of no distinct era or culture. Furnishings are minimal but strikingly abstract. Characters speak line-endings cleanly, but only in a declamatory fashion for longer monologues. Sometimes silence intervenes (even within a speech), as the actor or director sees fit. The whole manner is of weird contrivance, of Rube Goldberg; of an experiment in danger of not coming off.

NAOTALBA Tailgated by the crimson
Moiety till my carport
Brings vast eclipse & a wall
Comprised of dead cicalas,
I am Naotalba 'tombed
In Naotalba. (turning towards the door) A whelk
Procured these vestments' purple.

CASSILDA (enters) And what the miasmatic
Garboil's thick at double dusk?

NAOTALBA It is a trick of the sky.

CASSILDA Does the sky lie too?

NAOTALBA Badly.

CASSILDA Then school it, till our chaos
Tell there no more than the white
Visage of Naotalba.

NAOTALBA Have it your way, my Lady.

CASSILDA (in a changed tone) Always just about to rain
But never does. One grows sick
Of stalking the asphodel.
(Back to the former:) I begin to remember.
Once there were other azures
Than chalice & gingerbread
Server. We feed the ebbing;
And like buzzards, let our greed
Unscrew us from an airspace.

NAOTALBA For you, perhaps some Tokay?

CASSILDA More, yes. (He pours.) Is the Ball tonight?

NAOTALBA It is.

CASSILDA I have a yearning
Sudden-like, to attend as
Some contraption of Babbage,
An automaton, a pun
In gray alloy.

NAOTALBA (aside) No demon
Better simulates a jest.
(To her) We shall deface this coinage
With alacrity.

CASSILDA --Soon, soon;
But who brings rain to Tlaloc?
(Pauses.) The stillborn worlds appall me.
Who’s stealthily going mad
Feels more & more their rightness
And dwells on pre-smash Krypton
A gnostic geologist.
Go. (He leaves.) (Contemptuously:) Enochian crossword
On a scrap of foolscap. Troll
At nowhere's crossing! (Tenderly:) Topaz
Your eyes, sweet, untenanted
By pain. One quick nocturnal
Interloper could leave you
A pocket of ebony.
Now I think about Alar
But all I feel is the dread
Of discovery. Sickly
By one black candle's saffron
A ukase Plutonian
I’ll issue. Invocation
Merely of what in this mine
Passes for a camera,
I want that bastard followed. (Enter HASTUR.)

HASTUR My queen.

CASSILDA Your eyelids quiver
Like hummingbirds. What is it?

HASTUR It seems from the worked-out goaf
One last gemmate surprise springs.

CASSILDA With disaster we keep tryst?

HASTUR Nothing so grand. It seems, the
Peasants, as if by magic
Have all eloigned.

CASSILDA They never
Petitioned us for mercy.
Not once.

HASTUR All in the grammar
Of rulership. That jasmine
Fragrance becomes you.

CASSILDA So stones
Are become, aye, by yellow.

HASTUR Withhold that word, dear. A time
Will come to wield such a force
But not yet. (In a lower tone) O Cassilda,
Eyes imprisoned by language
Find umgang in their lit cone
The sanguine horizon called
Storm sunset. What morbidness!
Beaker of golden chartreuse
To dispel were ample glare.
(She leaves.) Such a vision I have seen
I'll not soon be rid of. Care's
Defunctive slivers blended,
The hands piled apart, dimness
And the ash of a frail prayer,
And we will be as they are
Under the red baobab.
A lace of flesh from us hangs
Already. Finish the poem
Though it squander the poet,
For all teloi-whorl is myrrh.

Scene 2. Cassilda's chambers. A canopied bed, Danish Moderne dressing table, & an ornate armoire in greenish wood. Tapestries, sconces. Cassilda holds an instrument, part lyre, part astrolabe, & sing-speaks the following, to intermittent discords.

CASSILDA 'Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink behind the lake,
The shadows lengthen
In Carcosa

Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies,
But stranger still is
Lost Carcosa

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in
Dim Carcosa.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead,
Die though, unheard, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Lost Carcosa.'

Beneath yon proud magenta fez
You think to live through this last hajj
As if moon’s silver
Cured Carcosa.

What do you want, Camilla?

CAMILLA To see a heart of marble.

CASSILDA Having found it?

CAMILLA Pachelbel
At times assuages.

CASSILDA We need,
All of us, some vengeful dream.

CAMILLA You dream only of the end.

CASSILDA I sleep not.

CAMILLA You are Baja
In sand, in stars, & in forms
Of razor-edged shapeliness.
If our annihilation
Does not ensue, it's Hastur
Keeps dowsing the catafalque.

CASSILDA But I would contain this plague.

CAMILLA And so you do.

CASSILDA Hyades,
Aldebaran, what matter
To the fond kamikaze
Whether his diving haiku
Find publication?

CAMILLA Cobweb
Me not with your metaphors.
I am in difficulty.

CASSILDA (Slowly:) Alas, you’re in R'lyeh.

CAMILLA (Swiftly:) Enceinte.

CASSILDA Tonight, a languid
Waltz shall encircle the ax
Of glass. Escape is not far.

CAMILLA Hastur knows.

CASSILDA Then opium
And oodles. What energy
Remains will do you no good.

CAMILLA I dreamed of a yellow king
Who wore rags & bright feathers
And glided without the weight
His shape ought to have. Across
The drawbridge he came; a thorn
Sprouted in my heart, despair
And the sense of a closed vault.

CASSILDA How narrow's the sepulchre
For a lorn spirit swimming.

CAMILLA This thought is like the wild foehn
Through stone corridors, neon
At once em'rald & amber.
I feel faint.

CASSILDA Mountains of slag
'Twixt us & the truth, sister;
Nor that one bears a fishhook.

CAMILLA What are you saying?

CASSILDA Fragrance
Kills.

CAMILLA Then to Thale I'll turn
Who never turned me down.

CASSILDA Love
To join you, but a pallid
Abyss beckons. Invisible
Are the best phenomena.
It is said that when Sacla
Had done, he left one blue jay
Behind to express his terse
Disavowal of the work,
And I hark to like whisper.

CAMILLA A woman with a mission.

CASSILDA When you encounter him, say
This morning I spared a roach. (Exits.)

CAMILLA What can cause all that rustling
In a mind of emptiness?
I must set off some sulfur
To sweeten. As if expiry
Could come into this crystal
(Enter THALE.) Anyway.

THALE You called?

CAMILLA Zephyr
To my parched cheek, Thale, white
Possesses the azaleas
When you are near. Cassilda
Makes complots.

THALE By what dire signs?

CAMILLA So far, I am uncertain,
But that she grows neglectful
Of her aim, as if soon none
Will be left to--

THALE Aroma
Of her precedes. (Sternly.) Be silent.

CASSILDA (Airily, & with a touch of irony:) Does anyone remember
Where they saw me leave my gloves?

THALE & CAMILLA No.

CASSILDA See you at the party.
(With extreme terror:) Wait. that is not Thale. Look!
(She snatches at his face, but he pulls back in time.)
He wears a mask.

THALE As many
As there are masked hours.

CASSILDA (Angrily:) Mine
The discovery!
(She gets it this time. All draw back.)

STRANGER (Formerly THALE.) Let here
Begin our revels.

CAMILLA (Slowly:) Pale sneer
On blankness, eyes empty black...
'You sir, should unmask.

STRANGER Indeed?

CASSILDA Indeed it's time. We all have
Laid aside disguise but you.

STRANGER I wear no mask.

CAMILLA (Terrified, aside to CASSILDA.) No mask? No
Mask!'

STRANGER This visage bright with clay
And cold, dark; a fallow field;
Is only Cabalatrab
Naked.

CASSILDA Nudity does jar
Out of context.

CAMILLA Where’s Thale?

STRANGER (Whispers.) Away.

CASSILDA Now a new accent
Learning, I trow.

CAMILLA One candle
More will unsight us.

STRANGER My art
Is delusion's quietus.

CASSILDA A rock in my shoe. Statesman
Of my father's sort, Uoht would
Know what to make of this buzz.
(Solemnly.) May the great caladium
Of peace enfold you. (Stabs.) All grass
Is flesh.

STRANGER (Dying.) I came to tell--

CASSILDA Flesh
That wants trimming. (Stabs him again.)

CAMILLA Aldones
Sent him, surely.

CASSILDA Your desire
And two cents sent him. Sickly
Our eclipse-light grows, bizarre
The conception of beauty.

CAMILLA Sister, hie us to the swarm.

Scene 3. The Ball. Half a dozen couples, but all the nonspeaking actors stand frozen in appropriate poses. Some sort of irritating music--played backwards?--comes & goes. Their "costumes" resemble modern American clothes, only exaggerated.

HASTUR (Tangoing with Camilla:) Naotalba is absent.

CAMILLA He's always absent.

HASTUR His steel
Was found.

CAMILLA Prison moons attend
His skulking. Sir, have mercy.

HASTUR I fear this development.
Rooks, suddenly blasphemous,
Are at me night & day, they
Whisper: "From Aldebaran
Will seed a novel coral;
'Have you found the yellow sign?'"
(Whenever this is said, the lights flicker.)

CAMILLA When you have tried my lilies
You'll feel much less afflicted.

HASTUR What is that awful incense?

CAMILLA I don't smell anything.

HASTUR Rhyme
Unpaired with aught: I smell blood.

CAMILLA Is it like the waft of sex?
We have just had sex.

HASTUR More wine!
I must have more wine! (He runs away.)

CAMILLA My silk
Seems to have a stain. Bother!

CASSILDA (Waltzing with Yhtill.) The Negaverse is our wills'
Deception?

YHTILL Metaphor. Time
Requires we spin our legend
Each of ourselves, crystalline
Webs without conjunction;
A moment's twinned filigree
Turns to smoke--

CASSILDA Or malachite?

YHTILL Why malachite?

HASTUR (Solus.) The rim’s gold, bright & gemmate
With bubbles, ah, I never
Cease to savor. Amethyst
Dreams alone I crave. Muzzy
As my head is, revellers
Round me, Amontillado
Within me, still I must dream
Of that accursed gecko
Bearing wintry catharsis
They label the Pallid Mask.
Pandemic! O Aziel
Too encompassing's your womb
And too greedy. A silken
Slide of years, just long enough
To fadge a fair aloha
And then let the flames anele.
But now we verge on Hekla
And facepaint with orpiment!
(Weeps.)

CAMILLA (To herself.) Despair is a polltaker.
I had thought this solitude
Would have an end. Frankincense
Drifts away. Her gloves, I will
Cut them into small pieces,
Portraying accordingly
The universal slaughter.

YHTILL (To CASSILDA.) His lordship looks so pale, go
Interrogate soft the oaf.

CASSILDA So, Yhtill, the new creature
Has been here awhile. --Watteau
Surmised. Off to Maremma!
(Approaches HASTUR.)

HASTUR (Brokenly:) The victims of landmines prey
Upon my will.

CASSILDA Zeitlichkeit
Is too much? Crepuscular
And stuff. Try some espresso.

HASTUR I am a burning dumpster.
The old king prostituted
Daughters; Constantinople
Took them; I have done much worse.

CASSILDA We've forgiven the wodwo
For being a wodwo, woe
To the non-wodwos.

HASTUR You give
Yourself too much credit.

CASSILDA Me?
I ground the poison. His mad
Cries made a haunting music
Even now I'm not beyond
Savoring. Insomnia
Has its comforts.

HASTUR Unicorn
And virgin in one. Crimson
Spot on my delirium,
And contemptuous Tarot
Spread.

CASSILDA Buying a large bottle
Is a kind of commitment. (Leaves.)

HASTUR Robed in funest mystery
A psychopathic peacock
Hour nears. We replace breath
With briny wisdom, tears
With the slime of the deep.

CASSILDA (At the edge of the stage.) Veldt
Like this gives us stones for bread
Unless we call on Hali. (Blackout.)

ACT II.
Scene 1. Cassilda’s chambers, but disordered, & the mirror shattered. Burns on some of the furniture & tapestries. Rags on the floor, & torn up books. Cassilda, nude in green body paint, with the corpse of Naotalba, obviously & unseasonably putrescent.

CASSILDA That talk of insanity
Is a code for dissidence
Which strays too far, burrows too
Deep & near to the secret.
You, though, are in it. I'll find
A way for a breach. 'By the
(Sings) Dark of the moon I planted'
One hundred thousand bombs. Weight
Of Mount Yaanek upon you,
Rise! By the swift ebony
Of Aztec priests, by Eurus,
By the blood of the unborn!
You will hear me! By the sleep
Of Pharaohs, by the crone moon;
By the lost blues of Chartres!
You will answer me! Ostrich
Within your head stuck in death, yield
To a stronger pull! Basalt
Is weaker. Now you shall talk
Nor will I permit the mask
Of gibberish, enigma:
Have you found the Yellow Sign?
Say! Whisper voluptuous
One word. Productivity
Will be rewarded. What if
I fashioned anew that face
Of bruise & pallor? So cold
You fiercely remain, still free,
Still as taciturn. Music
You'd send me, Naotalba.
It’s so quiet where I am.
Where knowledge is. Not the dead
Know what I know. Though you care,
The best music dies at once.
(Croons.) 'A-woobie obba dobba,
Obba woobie dobba...' Ear
For miracles, have we? Buzz,
Red smear on the front bumper
Gawking! Naught else calls us food!
O pity, pity for us
All! The singularities
Have taught me jurisprudence,
Intricate weariness
With legs. I eat the tsimtsum
With chopsticks of electrum
And I shit on Fomalhaut.
Why don't you bless my question
Heart? A swaying emptiness
Is all, all. Wail accordingly
From the Pit of Noumenon!
By the slow-blooded Phyva,
I charge thee.

NAOTALBA --Unhook the World.
(CASSILDA grabs him & flings him out of the chair.)

CASSILDA At last!

NAOTALBA You cannot land it.
(She shakes him until his head comes off & rolls away.)

CASSILDA (In a different voice:) Black’s dominion isn’t Black.

Scene 2. Throne Room, dominated by a huge chair that half resembles an electric chair.

HASTUR One lesson's lodged in this night:
'It is a terrible thing
To fall into the hands of'
A 'living god.' --Vorpal edge
Of wisdom rends our velvet
Throats to extinguish some drouth
We haven’t heard of. Jedburgh
Salvation.

YHTILL It's not madness
To guard 'gainst sciamachy.

HASTUR I'll have blackened coelacanth.

YHTILL To kill you an assassin
Has been dispatched.

HASTUR Normalcy.

YHTILL 'Bunched kisses' 'crackle & drag'
In the Negaverse.

HASTUR Raps clack
Calcspar; I resonate to.
O 'hue-tempestuous' orb!
Crimethink by that saddest light,
Pink-gold sodium attack
Converts tragedy to Spam.
And each of us has a sign
Born under, our realm & game;
To else, nescient. The rag
We'll die for. Heimarmenê
Has subdivided spirit--
And no spook on this muskeg
Understands, ophidian,
The coils: each has their fond drug
And warped map of Xibalba.
This is mine. What's that murmur
Swaying the wisteria,
Bringing a foretaste of ice
To the one it want to nab?
My eyes bedim. Melody
Defunctive creeps to occult
My little bonfire of words--
'No dietetic sequel.' (Enter CASSILDA.)

CASSILDA Black milk for Peacock Angel.

HASTUR Thy maquillage looks ghastly.

CASSILDA I filled the cracks with star grout,
My pupils with hematite.
How do you like the façade?

HASTUR I witness the same old jade,
A stone most porismatic
In the palm.

CASSILDA Divinity
Does not suit you. Stick to war.

HASTUR You used to paint with henna
Those pale, lovely hands; now gore
Luauesque. Each finds their path
In the absinthe, Cassilda.

CASSILDA We're not on the same planet.

HASTUR 'Have you found the Yellow Sign?'

CASSILDA Alas, I have too much flesh
And not enough knife.

HASTUR Queen Mab
Complains of her cobweb cage.

CASSILDA I'll leave you a talisman,
And when the last arabesque
Unfurls, you may find me.

HASTUR Salt
Is like Abracadabra
To a snail.

CASSILDA Goodbye, grotto.
I'll see you on Sirius.
(They begin to slash each other with switchblades. The scene continues in pantomime for some time. The blood is bright & non-naturalistic but the actors may realistically feign injury.)

Scene 3. Throne Room, subtly transformed.

CAMILLA All the wives in Carcosa
Have red hair, they say.

YHTILL Triage
Is useless in the matrix;
The rolling cursor curses
And having cursed, moves on. Shall
We?

CAMILLA Black & white's the zebra
Alone among innocents,
Yet he too yields burgundy.
But were you always Thale?

YHTILL Inconstantly, to my shame.

CAMILLA It is a bulwark of gneiss
Keeps me in stir, paradise
Kevork'd.

YHTILL Typhonian age,
All the time we ever had
Together. First, enskyment;
Then funest copulation.
Life is high parabolas
Or nothing.

CAMILLA The tongueless mouths
Of Naxyr vend a proverb
Unknown here, but very apt:
"I garble Babel, Bragi."

YHTILL Dizzyingly velvetish
Is this new invocation.
What will you raise with it?

CAMILLA Ra,
Who'll come whatever you do.

YHTILL That’s so Last-Year's-Sunglasses.

CAMILLA Or transsubstantiation
In gardens of amethyst.

YHTILL A mask unmasks illusion
As fundamental, ocean
We founder in sans land.

CAMILLA My
Old Heliogabalan
Tastes recur. Tell me the truth.
What did you give Cassilda?

YHTILL A lesser plague.

CAMILLA Than language?

YHTILL Heliophobic motives
Afflict us all.

CAMILLA To this quartz
Is ebon.

YHTILL Oolongphaeic
Ever our meaninglessness
Whether we give up one eye
For knowledge or both. Image
Of my desire, be its cairn
And I'll for your sake abort
Flight, rescue, even worry...

CAMILLA So potent is poetry.

YHTILL Hastur with his brainworm moans
All night of the Hyades
And Aldebaran, his cave
To a lost template coded.

CAMILLA But what of the child?

YHTILL Monstrous,
Conceived by gloryglimmer
From Yog-Sothoth himself, if
The thing even have a face
I swear to love it.

CAMILLA Surely,
Double, like Tiresias,
Our flowery fate must stare
T'wards some dazzle.

YHTILL Azrael
Is said to cruise at new moons.

CAMILLA My despair wears cartilage
And circles.

YHTILL Empearl this wine
With believing. Strange hejira,
Yet necessary. Malaise
Will become the law; holy
Its stigmata. They will lock
Themselves within. Level field:
All's quicksand. In the night church
Pulumchva feign cicala
Song; fleshless hands will anele.

CAMILLA And we who’re coals from the goaf,

The diamond's diamond;
For nilpertains daylight our bassoon
Indigo demon.

YHTILL Let world-destruction be our meaning;
Slow poison, our air.

CAMILLA Our new capital will be Dallas.

YHTILL Anaglyphic oafs
To shuffle its pavements till the end

CAMILLA --Since turquoise is dead:

(Together:) Since the Nephilim have turned kiwis.


FINIS.


alas
(via turoboz dot ru)


roads void of cars · blowing dust troops
windows dark · luminous grass troops

from gift flotsam · what do you build
morning paralysis · sign troops

in saffron · lying rainbow moon
madrigal grow · rim star myrrh troops

mutiny · Arcadia blood
Godzilla crystal · stomp bulb troops


For*sti*r* Gard*ns.


Monday, August 21, 2006

alas
(via tat* dot org dot uk)


Plot is a mask put upon what occurs, mostly unmaskful. To grok a wholly abstract art, you must hold your own illusion of unity at bay. For what? --As it is only from that void's agony, that our art is born.


fill my days with storm
with black angst · Ygg fill my days
so i cannot · in
this crystal labyrinth · say
to any · what plaiks my snain


Wh*r*'s My Spac* Ag*?


Sunday, August 20, 2006

I'm not a bard of story books. My instinct for story is faint. As though a bird without inborn polar navigation skills could only fly in a straight path not far, or by following a road known as such. Things just occur. Making up a story about it, is not much aid.


sandalwood · tally
uniform · idly carcass
flock twinkling · pools fog
idiom strong · gallop cloud
flow · my hungry indigo


If 9 was 12.


On my victrola- N*w Triumvirat*: Pomp*ii


Saturday, August 19, 2006

"Perhaps my favorite folks were these crazy tree pirates who had set up about 30' above the ground in large Aspens. They had this totally cool above ground thing going on, like Ewoks. They'd lower baskets and "fish" for gifts, or at times lower a pipe as an offering."


J*r*my.


dawn rain aroma
cry of a bird · murky road
must do what i do

fish and fish and fish on a
singular gazing nowl round


All unknowns do not form a singular ginormous Unknown. Why do humans insist on thinking so? Just as a natural illusion would join up all this human's acts into a singular actor who wills...


"...More and more
I get like shadows; I find out
How they hate."

--M*rwin


Bully Boy.


Friday, August 18, 2006

alas
(via //w*b dot augsburg dot *edu)

Kind words cost nothing, so why so sparing?


V*rn*r Panton.


Food for thought.


War Slav*ry Blog. (via R*b*cca Blood)


Big Nightfall bug crawl
Ogpu in calcspar glory
camo Olofi

star cold to iron raucous mist
and my hand finds toxic fog


Thursday, August 17, 2006

Outcry from th* Inf*rno.


"If it weren't too late to make amends
and build upon the crumbling taiga
what might come from listening to a poet,
if it weren't too late.

Nothing else can nail us to this road
now that we have heard the wolf;
now that we have lost a house by fire...

And yet I always think of this:
before they fall, it is our wills clasp death--
and will's a thing of melting iron.

If it weren't too late."

--L*mmy Caution, Mayb*rry R. F. I. D. (2006)



Ilka hiatus of will stands for a loss that won't go away.


Most Famous Unknown Artist. (via M*tafilt*r)


Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Orkhon script.


all that falls must land
bound for calcspar land

is our trysting lost
from orgasm land

drowning hungry pool
this tidal turn land

radio scrum dust
now not a sound land

solitary waft
though Grinchus groks land


    "...the ritual
indigo of nightfall--"

--Dan Brown, Matt*r (1996)


"...the first-ever novel written entirely in instant messages."


Tuesday, August 15, 2006

" 'I say; one simply mustn'y get sentimental,' [Philo Vance] remarked with a forced smile, turning back to the room. 'It decomposes the intelligence amd stultifies the dialectic processes...' " --S S Van Din*, Th* Bishop Murd*r Cas* (1929)


Walmart camo · blindfold ambush wasp
fragrant story · schoolroom mask

immigration · pools

Walmart camo Olofi · ambush wallop
fragrant · still

schoolroom mask · am following
wodwo · all woolly



Monday, August 14, 2006

alas (via uia-archit*ct*s dot org) brisk · cravings mimsy · tsunami skid sculpt arriving · raucous iv'ry villain · indigo iguana ashram amok with imgrat · osmium myth it is functional · insanity lamp · impish pitch as skip · killing idol usufruct icily fulcrum · slap spinning it falls · brisk cravings A curious thought about Saffron Kingship in our actual world. Plus. And. Or.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

this warmth will not go until
fronds among stark maroon us

this smoky suffocation
until turning winds rock us

with our songs in Carcosa
all toxic flavors glut us

a robot rolls across Mars
as Baghdad bloodbaths drug us


Jav*lin Pr*ss.


Tjibaou.


"Disney built a dynasty based on every seven years a child goes to the movies for the first time. The Sidaris dynasty is built on the theory that every four years there's a college freshman in a frat house on a Friday night who wants to see a Sidaris movie!"


Saturday, August 12, 2006

Giant Pacific trashb*rg (pdf). (via H*ath*ns in H*at)



alas
(via cylon dot org)

"Better King Lear in woad, even, than King Lear in a lounge suit." --Lucas


what grows from invoking swift laws of · chaos it is shown
what flows from following iron laws of · logic it is shown

how far from that town in which i first · took a count of stars
did i go on foot picking up rocks · for cairn it is shown

how much can grasping hands rip away · from a lavish land
and its birdtalk folk in this burning · rank gulf it is shown

what can a bard who is haggardly · tacking among storms
of clockwork say that's so in lacy · hazaj it is shown


Holocaust dwarf story.


"One friend, who lauds his Pakistani identity and credentials, was unable even to name a single poem written by Iqbal!"


On my victrola- I, Assassin


Friday, August 11, 2006

"there are some who have no voices
or none that will ever speak
because of the things they know about this world
and the things they feel about this world
because the thoughts that fill a brain
that is a damaged brain
because the pain that fills a body
that is a damaged body
exists in other worlds
countless other worlds
each of which stands alone in an infinite empty blackness"

--Ligotti & Tib*t (via Blindh*it)


"Tulpa plaque, slowly forming the shape of my acting career..."


   Algorithmic Automynorcagram Moko

1. Six plus four plus six plus four plus six glyphs.

2. For any glyph, list its post-first-position-containing words.

3. Six plus four such words form a full word row.

4. Count a word row with singular through nought choosing-tabs.

5. In writing, which word is from a glyph plus tab.

6. Start out with a root word you want to sort.

7. All its post-first glyphs will sort out following words.

8. Tab for a glyph is digit of Pi in ranking.

9. Following word is which of that row has that tab.

10. Strings of odd-count word-parts go on until can’t.

   Provisional Ijzay

A. 1. raucous 2. basilisk 3. walking 4. sandcoil 5. caracul 6. wasp 7. laptop 8. cardboard 9. mask 0. sandstorm

B. 1. obsidian 2, about 3, abort 4. abyss 5. abstain 6. obtain 7. obstruct 8. oblong 9. oblivious 0. absurd

C. 1. acrostic 2. accrual 3. octopus 4. scaffold 5. scuttling 6. act 7. sculpt 8. scrollwork 9. schoolroom 0. scrum

D. 1. idolatry 2. adult 3. adjourn 4. idiotic 5. adamant 6. oddly 7. adumbrating 8. addict 9. adjunct 0. idiom

(No word row of that fifth bit.)

F. 1. of 2. uffish 3. off 4. affair 5. afghan 6. if 7. affliction 8. officious 9. afar 0. affadavit

G. 1. ogham 2. agony 3. ignorant 4. Ogpu 5. against 6. again 7. aglow 8. ago 9. ogganition 0. aggry

H. 1. shadowy 2. shard 3. shorn 4. thrifty 5. ghost 6. chimp 7. whirlwind 8. shotgun 9. shoggoth 0. thwart

I. 1. night 2. birdtalk 3. dilatory 4. gibbons 5. pillbug 6. silk 7. wisp 8. diaspora 9. fighting 0. silt

J. 1. fjord 2. ajar 3. ajaja 4. sjambok 5. gjalfr 6. djinn 7. Ojibway 8. Ujiji 9. gjakmarrja 0. ojiazul

K. 1. skald 2. akin 3. skull 4. akimbo 5. skin 6. skimp 7. skillfully 8. skid 9. skirl 0. skim

L. 1. sloppy 2. alloy 3. claypit 4. glory 5. sly 6. glass 7. blindfold 8. flashback 9. slag 0. clockwork

M. 1. ambush 2. umgang 3. immigration 4. immortal 5. ominous 6. smart 7. smoky 8. ambit 9. impair 0. Umbrist

N. 1. infirm 2. unknown 3. indigo 4. angst 5. incog 6. anchor 7. anvil 8. ongoing 9. angular 0. ink

O. 1. wobbly 2. forlorn 3. solid 4. polyps 5. mouth 6. sobbing 7. pools 8. torturing 9. poison 0. portal

P. 1. spoil 2. spurt 3. upcoming 4. spiral 5. spillway 6. spool 7. sprouting 8. apricot 9. opal 0. apart

Q. 1. squawk 2. squalid 3. Uqbar 4. aquatic 5. squat 6. squish 7. squall 8. squib 9. squash 0. squamous

R. 1. crystal 2. iron 3. orchid 4. grisly 5. drawback 6. trustworthy 7. brillig 8. crawling 9. fragrant 0. writing

S. 1. ash 2. ashtray 3. as 4. is 5. using 6. asking 7. tsunami 8. psalm 9. usurp 0. osmium

T. 1. stars 2. Cthulhu 3. story 4. storm 5. atavist 6. starfish 7. stark 8. stairway 9. strongly 0. utmost

U. 1. sunlight 2. ruinous 3. cutbacks 4. gulag 5. hurling 6. furious 7. dusk 8. lungfish 9. mutiny 0. bungalow

V. 1. ivory 2. oval 3. avid 4. ivy 5. avoid 6. uvula 7. oviduct 8. avail 9. avowal 0. avatar

W. 1. twinkling 2. twisting 3. switch 4. swamp 5. twitch 6. swimming 7. own 8. swarm 9. ywis 0. swank

X. 1. axiom 2. oxidizing 3. ax 4. ixodid 5. uxorious 6. oxroim 7. oxycontin 8. axis 9. axolotl 0. Ixion

Y. 1. byblow 2. typical 3. pylon 4. cyborg 5. syzygy 6. python 7. hybrid 8. cynic 9. by 0. myth

Z. 1. tzompantli 2. azimuth 3. Oz 4. azury 5. azoth 6. Azathoth 7. ozonous 8. izzard 9. Uz 0. tzolkin

   Pi digits:

14159 26535 89793 23846 26433 83279 5...

So...

Radio Darkhat · idolatry
gibbons wobbly adamant mask · iron skimp ghost

walking · atavist
dispora adjunct · pools

slag · walking
Cthulhu orchid · cynic Ogpu silk

about obtain polyps shorn as · swarm solid
about · obstruct slag

syzygy


Thursday, August 10, 2006

Black ma*stro.


"But, really, doesn’t this get to the twisted heart of the whole academia thing? Arcane knowledge horded, obsessive complusive tendencies enabled, secret societies that require hazing rituals entered, delayed adulthood and adolescence eternally extended?"



Villan*ll*s Ar* R*tard*d.


"I don’t know what part of boston the mighty bosstones are from, but lebanese immigration to beantown has been going on at least since gibran khalil gibran’s time. ."


how can i account for my hours
a mountain of trash

what light thrown
from my brown cogitations

did i find anything out among sojourns
lost in mazy lunacy

did i build anything strong to last
or flung high

truly i cannot account for my hours
or loving days



"As dramatis personae atoms are inadequate." --Lucas


Wednesday, August 09, 2006

alas
(via s*riouswh**ls dot com)

Killing, as if in an adjoining room: this world so small, now. Killing, as if in a far galaxy: how much our crowd minds it.


   "POEM

A man's mortals break over him and
ebb away...love, youth, Naomi.
In femoral jungles, light and shadow
play chess; man is present, judging.
Though foundering, I exhale the fate
of unknown cities and races; in my glance,
poison for future gods. The vines
already are clinging to men: they know who to back.
I live, I burn. My mortals,
my guts, break over me and ebb
away...love, youth, Naomi."

--Saint G*raud


"It's an act of conviction, baby, simply holding on
Keeping forward motion, pretending to be strong,
Listening with all my heart for voices in the wind
That will be singing for us, Baby, when the song begins again
." (via wood_s lot)


"For the translator Pindar remains one of the most impossible poets in the world. To render him literally, as Cowley says, can only give the impression that one madman has translated another." --Lucas, op cit



Scandinavian folk music brought back in a big way.


Ungodly sayings.


Floor.


Tuesday, August 08, 2006

alas
(via //g*orgiafac*s dot ca*s dot uga dot *du)


Guitars will not avail us.


   stormfall gold can light
for going off not this all
   shadowy story
and your snow-cold moon was how
an hour without rain roars


"...Robert Duncan’s onetime housemate, Philip K. Dick...offers his readers here so many different and incomplete angles into the narrative at hand, not one of them developed fully or really to completion, that the result is dizzying..."


"...these lines seem a dirge not only for a fallen poet, but for a fallen race--for the end of the poetry of a free Hellas." --F L Lucas, on 'Lam*nt for Bion' in: Gr**k Po*try for 3v*ryman (1951)


Monday, August 07, 2006

A Strong*r Kinship.


Small crisis upon small crisis, no slack to stand back and think about it in (as if by plan). Control is also a storm. But what would i say of tomorrow? Night horrors, gray dismay, dismal coming so of old bard warnings. And too: what our vision cannot know. Much.


wolf's pool · Tiw nidor
mint solos · salp march
toot wasp · sawtooth cramp
lasso lost Nimrod · inwit loops flow


   "Song

Naomi looks for her child
in the trees, in the leaves.
It is of fire, and has spirited her away.
Though sea-level rise to heart-level,
in the trees, in the leaves."

--Saint G*raud (Bill Knott), Th* Naomi Po*ms (1968)


On my victrola- P*nd*r*cki's St Luk* Passion


Sunday, August 06, 2006

CIA cigars. Until Night Falls. Salsa on shortvibration radio i would turn on during long Raygun nights: Radio Habana.


djinn sjambok · winning angst unknown
island ajaja · wasp impound
abort wombat · skip twinkling gift
and in kiln fnast · against fallout


   'XLI.

Kneeling death is spilling
its white blood which isn't blood.
It smells like a guarantee.
But I think I'm going to laugh.

Something murmured over there. They're quiet.
Someone hisses courage on the side,
and they're counted up in pairs,
twenty-three ribs that are missing
on both sides; they're also
counted up in pairs; the whole file
of trapeziform escorts.

Meanwhile the changing of the guards
(I've got to laugh again)
gets even and clubs us to the ground,
again and again,
from membrane to membrane,
tap
by
tap.'

--Smith's Trilc*