parcelled out in spoons
Qurans to burn
my pith helmet self-crafted
shadows no cooler
the mercenary army leaderless
“At one wailing time it will fall upon my body as a bloodletter. At another time it will fall upon the crown of my head, as a crown of thorns. Such is thy god: my head is many thrones, many gates, the truth I did not know.” –@gods_txt
Stalker in real life & the video game.
“dense fog
the thud of textbooks
caught by the nettle tree”
–@poem_exe
"shall I take off
the heavy evening gown
called Love and
wrap my naked self
in a shawl of mist?"
--Fujio Tachibana at Ahapoetry
"The Upstairs Room
It must have been in March the rug wore through.
Now the day passes and I stare
At warped pine boards my father's father nailed,
At the twisted grain. Exposed, where emptiness allows,
Are the wormholes of eighty years; four generations' shoes
Stumble and scrape and fall
To the floor my father stained,
The new blood streaming from his head. The drift
Of autumn fires and a century's cigars, that gun's
Magnanimous and brutal smoke, endure.
In March the rug was ragged as the past. The thread
Rots like the lives we fasten on. Now it is August,
And the floor is blank, worn smooth,
And, for my life, imperishable."
--Weldon Kees
Olivia Laing in conversation with @mjohnharrison.
" 'I am thinking about tomorrow,' said Toad. 'I am thinking about all of the many things that I will have to do.'
'Yes,' said Frog, 'tomorrow will be a very hard day for you.' " --@FrogandToadbot
"Having a GOP debate without Trump is like letting the Manson family make a plan without Charlie." --@LOLGOP
Meanwhile, in the city where the debate was held...
"INCANTATION
The twitching hand,
like some Medusa,
blinds the aching eye
of the oil lamp.
Ace of Wands.
Scissors in a cross.
Upon the white smoke
of the incense, it has
a touch of the mole and
the indecisive butterfly.
Ace of Wands.
Scissors in a cross.
An invisible heart
is distressed, see it?
A heart
reflected on the wind.
Ace of Wands.
Scissors in a cross."
--Garcia Lorca, Poem of the Deep Song (tr C Bauer 1921; 1987)
A plethora of kinky theoryesque free books on pdf. (including some Purdey Lord Kreiden translations from Cioran in Gobbet)
book that can be burnt
this hummingbird-blur our world
still holds resolute
in its talks with the mist-fawn
in bending to the sarsar
Collectiveness as a Form of Autotheory.
" 'The dragons haven't any word for "magic," ' Thorn spoke in a bruised sort of voice, her throat bonds being released a little. 'Isn't that odd of them?' " --Annals of Klepsis
"When have I ever done anything that someone didn’t think was detrimental to my fucking career?"
"In the garden of gray latex foliage / moths spinning about, chewing
through / trembling hands in front of the broken, seeping masks / a
static emerald memory lodged in the back, reflecting the partylights /
the bulb at the end of the hall at the end of the feast blinking in the
graydawn light /" --James Pate, Mineral Planet
snowflake & tarriance
Treblinka by Disney
azure-belly'd yantra
taant television snow
radio telescope
Turabian parade
AI daguerrotype
paper Taipei air-raid
These Boots Are Made for Walkin'.
Escher's sphere
so many kinds of flame
"Self: it stifles" --@LoriWike
"A Gull Goes Up
Gulls when they fly move in a liquid arc,
Still head, and wings that bend above the breast,
Covering its glitter with a cloak of dark,
Gulls fly. So as at last toward balm and rest,
Remembering wings, the desperate leave their earth,
Bear from their earth what there was ruinous-crossed,
Peace from distress, and love from nothing-worth,
Fast at the heart, its jewels of dear cost.
Gulls go up hushed to that entrancing flight,
With never a feather of all the body stirred.
So in an air less rare than longing might
The dream of flying lift a marble bird.
Desire it is that flies; then wings are freight
That only bear the feathered heart no weight."
--Those Not Elect
"...nowadays there are but few who hold literature in honor. Besides, owing to a natural defect, it is fixed and rooted in the human breast that failure to understand the art means failure to esteem the artist." (Letters of Sidonius tr. W B Anderson: V.x, To Sapaudius)
"The way through the wood may start wide, but it always narrows as it deepens. By turn and tangle it thickens with stories, darkens into snarl. For the wood is where we've sent our feral dreams to live, all our growling myths. We walk it in the company of old gods. – #CLNolan" --@HooklandGuide
black corridors blaring
sublime mirror speargrass
let the window land here
Short spooky video by Sapphire.
"So, so long
traveling this highway
alone---
vanishing V
of geese heading south"
--R G Rader at Ahapoetry
Old interview with Ayndryl i just found out about.
"It is told that infirm old Alfgar passed on a gray road beneath gray skies, and about him blew that wind which fans the flickering of the stars." --The Way of Ecben
"Let the rule be: 'Do not ever climb so high on the cliffs of imagination that the fall from the top will kill you...' " --Annals of Klepsis
phantomnation fishing
before skaldic doorway
other than in English
all the vetust ballparks
on a tharnmoot morning
Accelerate or Die. (via @Qdnoktsqfr)
"Whatever Happened to Culture?"
"MADNESS (Palindrome-Haiku)
Peel song, no sadness.
Send a made bed a madness.
Send a song no sleep…."
--@Anthony_Etherin
"You have seen comic artists and caricaturists who can suggest a face and a person with no more than several broken lines on a paper. Human persons are like that, mere suggestions made out of long and short broken lines." --Annals of Klepsis
El mar, con su hambre de matar.
Zoa.
"An opera singer steals philosophy and hides it inside a crystal city." --@magicrealismbot 2-12-16
Last Year at Marienbad. (with subtitles) ☆☆☆☆
neon jellyfish alcove
you don't want to remember
in this carpeted enclave
the sudden vacant chamber
scene of another story
you don't want to remember
unfolding over starry
esplanades where ghosts stalk
scene of another story
the losses are now too stark
to justify forever
esplanades where ghosts stalk
the organ follows each lover
corridors like ruined statues
to justify forever
things have changed in the picture
neon jellyfish alcove
corridors like ruined statues
in this carpeted enclave
"Revolt, rapid.
Neon fog.
No set upside.
Vastness.
I desire no law
or rosy briar air.
By sorrow alone, rise.
Dissent. Save dispute.
Song of no end.
I part, lover."
--@MikeSpeaks
"There is this gold-and-gemstone light in every person, and it only needs to be evoked." --Annals of Klepsis
Where light dances with darkness and day embraces night. ☀️π.
"The mystery of life is the plainest part of it. The clouds and curtains of darkness, the confounding vapours, these are the daily weather of the world." --Chesterton
A scurrying misshaped thought, but still a thought,
has found me inbetween my watering chores
as sometimes still, the night's veil yields us stars
long after we had ceased on them to dote.
I started to say, not fewer than when thrills
were lush, do insights find me even now:
except i hardly write them down--which is
face-saving but a little late to growl.
Or gratitude (that will do for grace) has lost
its compass in the phosphor-lidded sky...
Nevertheless, against this williwaw
of folly, other things first sacrificed
perturb me more, that flash in sickle-feast.
"TO THE NIGHTINGALE
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill,
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May;
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love; O, if Jove's will
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate
Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh;
As thou from year to year hast sung too late
For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:
Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I."
--John Milton
"Perspective really is the comic element in things." --G K Chesterton
Chesterton on Blake. (via @aliner)
Alina's writing resource page.
"Frog made a fresh pot of tea. He sat down and began a story." --@FrogandToadbot
the past is at war with the future
in my soul
bearing irremeable disjuncture
the past is at war with the future
all know, but only one creature
can wield this pencil
the past is at war with the future
in my soul
A theory of General Instability
.
Books that are entirely (or mostly) prose poems.
"The sphincter between tzimtzum and kenosis." --@LapsusLima
Adam Roberts on Suannah Clarke.
"The End of the Library
When the coal
Gave out, we began
Burning the books, one by one;
First the set
Of Bulwer-Lytton
And then the Walter Scott.
They gave a lot of warmth.
Toward the end, in
February, flames
Consumed the Greek
Tragedians and Baudelaire,
Proust, Robert Burton
And the Po-Chu-i. Ice
Thickened on the sills.
More for the sake of the cat,
We said, than for ourselves,
Who huddled, shivering,
Against the stove
All winter long."
--Weldon Kees
Matrix Resurrections is about what happened to The Matrix in real life. (via @mckenziewark)
The card you don't want to draw.
"NEMESIS
The strong-kneed woman found it,
a kernel under her tongue, while speaking
with her daughter, her echo.
It flowed through hearts,
as water flows downhill,
and transmuted into lightning, and
revived when it rained again.
It was bought, it was sold
from people to people
for pelts,
swords and lances,
for pison, olive oil and petrol
and for a sheep frozen
in copper, silver and gold,
and it was buried alive in prayer."
--Martin Camaj, Selected Poetry (tr Leonard Fox, 1990)
"Laforgue's friends procured him a post as reader to the Empress Augusta of Germany; and, falling under the spell of German philosophy, he brought its jargon into his verse, contributing thereby to Symbolism perhaps the one element of obscurity which it had lacked." --Axel's Castle
"If one goes to parties or meets many new people in any other way, one has to take protective action quite frequently, however much one hates oneself in the process; just as human beings are compelled to massacre animals unceasingly, because human beings are simply unable to survive, for the most part, on apples and nuts." --Robert Aickman, Painted Devils (1979)
Aurora sunrise. (via @wonderofscience via Mark Saltveit on Mastodon)
"buried
in the record sleeve
humpback’s call"
--R G Rader
Eclectic ethnic mixtape. (via aetherphonica)
one does not need
so many songs
the thing so important to teach me
with silence & the barren sun
i came at last to understand
one does not need
so many songs
ππππππππ πππππππ⚡️.
"O lost solitary
Argonaut."
--Satire: Veritas
