( via / via )

Winter Morning.

"book launch"

dog in hand reading · Reverchon
roads i don't drive anymore

mailbox mobled in rust · mirthless
launch of a letter · relaying news

of the long ago · geese shuffling
across human courses · can a town

be excessively small · to save in a poem
the Quadrangle drawn · in dappled light

Russian turtle tank additionally covered with anti drone cages.

"Ku-poh came to a conclusion that footnotes of epics developed into novels. The lines of the epic played the role of the index to the footnotes." --In-hoon Choi

Discarded output.

( via / via )

In which Refaat Alareer is dying as an old man & Henry Kissinger has died young.

"From 1765-1938, the British Empire looted an estimated $45 trillion from India.

The British Empire stole so much that one of the very first Indian words to enter the English language was the Hindustani slang for plunder: 'loot'." --@SpiritofLenin (via @_ryanruby_)

"Anyway, that’s where I grew up: in one of the most naturally rich and unnaturally impoverished places in the world."

"EVIL

As tied,
I saw a sill,
it sets a way away:
a lade,
vastness;
a will.
A sun,
in me lost,
felt left.
Solemn,
in us all.
I was sent;
saved:
a layaway,
a waste, still,
I saw a side:
it’s alive."

--@MerlinaAcevedo

"Ten years ago, the cultural discourse of academia hadn’t yet metabolized the nightmare state the profession was in." (via @kukukadoo)

( via / @skepticat@mstdn.social via mark saltveit )

"He’d spent much of his sentence doing artwork, I’d heard—painting portraits of cats. I’d spent mine with a table saw."

"CONCOCTING THE OTHER

If interest is sulfur attention is mercury and this reworks an old question by introducing what by
luck is a second “element,” the resistance measured by warmth, in our minds the dimness at the top
of an alembic quite hot overall, small plugs with pendent rings for iron tongs to pull out
fiercer fire, our carbon rods the drama of measurement. The furnace
tender wore funny goggles, listened to crepitation in the dry vessel. Our womb
lovely word the model for equipment, fingers pincers eyes around which, as
in Cagliostro’s spectacles in Annemann, hieroglyphs or some kinda symbols do not
dance but are dial readings on the wearer, how everything contemplated in fire breaks
the heart (my heart) nearly as I nearly say this visible dry heat is the house of value, the
word valve in romanic. Well, these can be plugs with pull rings too, my interest
engaged as an oval portrait in an oval frame abolishes guarantee, the French schoolteacher, his
cigarette smoke one motion (it seems) of Manet’s brush this acceptance, that what may go together. . .
Anyway in the mind kings and queens twist around each other in sleep, vegetal rather than squirrels, pythons, worms    whose
bristles may be interesting encountered, the thick band with organs in like the glans
the fashion of their amicability a function of yet uningested soil."

--Gerald Burns 10.8.84

The Long Room.

"They bespoke doomsday and they meant it by
God, their curved metal rimming the low ridge."

--Geoffrey Hill via (via @aliner)

Weird Islands.

( via / via )

"It's as if the constraint possesses a diacritique of its own, a meaning-supplement to what might otherwise be considered fill."

"RAVING has been selling nicely. A trade press would be happy with these numbers. But trade presses hardly ever publish books that offer concepts, on the assumption there's no market for that. But ppl are hungry for concepts that articulate their experience." (my italics)

"It's true enough that in the academy most of the training is in how to do commentary on 100 year old conceptual writing, rather than actually writing it now. Nothing wrong with that but it creates a specialist literature.

It's much harder than it looks, and harder than it needs to be, to write in between the academic / trade divide. Particularly when you reject the model of dumbing-down conceptual work as patronizing." --@mckenziewark

"Midnight intombed December's naked icebound gulf..."

(14-vowel riddle: Poets)

my children babble

weird sounds

though thought safe

coined off rune-books

20-Consonant Poetry. Also 14-vowel sound poetry...Mine. (Note that my version of the mnemonic substitutes "oy veh!" for "a joy" since the article is not a long vowel sound here.)

( via / via )

Yoruba egúngún.

"duckspeak of the solar system"

pathworking · in the pale dunes
burnt umber floor · flows with reflections
ichneumon nattering · nabob of orbthwart

curiously caring · for cold cases
his mad murderboard · mourns a plethora
the bombs batter · buildings nearer

saying is no superpower

Sunrise this morning.

"Human beings, Isao realized, could descend to communicating their feelings like dogs barking in the distance on a cold night."

— Yukio Mishima, 𝘙𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘏𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴 (translated by Michael Gallagher) via @Isidro_Li

Composition 199.

( via / via )

Three Preludes.

just tell me why all the managers today are so stupid. it seems they lack even a basic sense of the purpose of their organization.

"It can be frustrating when it seems like managers aren't aligning with the purpose of their organization. There could be a variety of reasons for this perception. Sometimes, it might be due to a lack of clear communication or understanding of the organization's goals and values. Other times, it could be attributed to a lack of experience or training in effective management practices.

It's important to remember that managers are human too, and they can make mistakes or have blind spots. However, if you're consistently noticing this trend within your organization, it might be worth addressing your concerns constructively with higher-ups or HR. Providing feedback and suggesting ways to improve alignment with the organization's purpose could potentially lead to positive changes." --ChatGpt

How to be a DIY Artist. (via dallas filth)

"stage name"

Niflheim fyelf lunch
to rouse covert browser
cancer takes a backseat
to gun deaths bilge-funded
brillig again walling
our patient-queued rudebeast
i sputter like water
& like wind i render

White in Black.

( via / via )

"The structure of the Venice Biennale is problematic in many ways, starting with the idea of an artist could ever represent a nation."

"facility with duckspeak"

words unweaving · in the worn dark
i think threats · thronging like bees
in the dry dark · dally with words

∰.

"The deities are mounting a search and rescue expedition into your chasm. They are deploying advanced equipment. They are dredging for bodies. Your god-shaped hole is their Bermuda triangle" --@ctrlcreep

A quiet spot, near the Isle of Whithorn.

( via / via )

Swang it 🌭.

"Ive never felt more like a different species than when I told my German friend, 'Hey, have you heard of the High German consonant shift? It explains all these differences between English and German, like why you say Schiff instead of ship...' and she was completely uninterested." --@wylfcen

"The faculty of the imagination is not the same thing as the will, and what an artist is channelling under the spell of mythopoetic violence is not an action plan, a manifesto or a credo, but a complete picture of human life."

"a magazine about exoplanets"

cries in the half light · crisp by contrast
anger · with its own itch buzzing
a noise like the gnashing of gears · going
tharn with the thrist · athwart echoes

this bezique takes zeal · beyond yours

Voltaire instructing the infant Jacobinism.

( via / via )

"What I tried to suggest is that what happened was—for her and consequently for us—beyond the human possibilities of mourning."

"Riddle 13 (from the Exeter Book)

I saw turf-treaders, ten I counted,
thus six brothers with sisters beside
had quickened to life: the clinging skins
I saw plainly on the sides of the houses
of every one; nor was any the worse
vexed in his venture, though they must travail thereafter
bereft of robes by the ruler of heaven
as their might awakens, their mouths nibbling
at fallen foliage. Fine garb renews
on the comers-forth whose cast trappings
were strewn behind when they strutted on land."

--tr Rahul Gupta

"Gut-wrenching to see Bakhmut destroyed like this."

"Having failed to write poems with a broad nib I drew pictures for the spring sale" --Gerald Burns

"Finally seeing Marienbad in the late 1980s was a curious thing, like meeting somebody face-to-face after years of remote correspondence; the same readjustments needed to be made to accept that this was the reality of the work of art, not Robbe-Grillet’s embryonic version, or my own baroque imaginings."

( via / via )

"Oh let the frogs and miry bogs destroy where they do enter."

"Far away from men, clad in blue silence, I work my spells." --Sologub

"One of the strangest stories in the field of Krautrock is that of anarchic improvisers Faust who were initially sold to Polydor on the basis they were 'the German Beatles' by left wing intellectual Uwe Nettelbeck; the label footed the bill for a period of communal living in a farmhouse in Wümme, near Hamburg – the peace of which was only shattered by the band being mistaken for a terrorist cell and, of course, their noisy jamming in the middle of the night." (via feuilleton)

"drake's crossing"

wrenched ravenling's roost · stand
in the cleared field · foraging fathoms
branch through the glass brillig · brings not much salve for
which clown is closest · to the Clear Light

fungal infections · affordances halted
it's an album issued · with lich aegis
praise proffered · in the prose of robots
this melee laced · with lunatic slaughter

& precarity's calm · for captive handouts

"As we readers are led through various known timelines and geological depths of proven evidence showing several ancient floods and global catastrophes, a connection seems to magically form between Atlantis and the Neanderthals. It's amazing."

( via / via )

We Are All Just Waiting to Be Found.

"count the bright puddles"

   squirrel frowning
atop wood fence
   color same

new song release
   by famous
defunct player

   gray morning
when growl's passed
   i lug trash

tripsome driveway
   what's the blues
but a blindside

   of hard grief
& forced growing
   not yet knit

to neat story
   not yet framed
with fine outcome

   flattened squirrel
you scoot across
   & forget

gabbing meanwhile
   it's the blues
blisters your face

   as you drive
t'ward no clear dream
   all day long

later under
   some motel's
snaggly neon

   nonsense word
that spells your wyrd
   turn the key

If the difference between a medicine and a poison is the dose, and différance is both difference and deferring of meaning, maybe sometimes you swallow the mystery capsule without knowing the exact dose and find out the differing meaning later.

"Watching unmoved the fall of burning worlds" --J Stanyan Bigg

Green neon batter.

( via / via )

Female clown surrounded by werewolf dolls and the apparatus of making werewolf puppets, detailed pencil drawing, egon schiele.

I'm holding out for the watermelon-kiwi Dr Pepper.

"What would happen to the formal and thematic qualities of my work if I embraced the dysfluency of my voice instead of concealing my stutter through song?"

"He harnesses a rage (riddle: a cough)

I heard a bastard · hovering about me,
an absolute nuisance · nestled by my side,
clinging, like a child · clasped around my neck
he cries out, sputtering, · clamouring to speak.
When I temper him, · tending to his whims
I listen to him blather,· the burden I must bear.
Stifle him and he shrieks, · shouting louder
the firmer he’s held down. · In fierce winter winds,
he harnesses a rage · racking my breastplate
with all his foul force, ·fists constantly flying,
battering my bones · a bludgeon, though feeble.
Who is this creature, · this constant pest
growing ever galling · though I grip him by the throat?"

--Cassidy McFadzean, 2012

Bombing the tents. (via @cassidymcfadz)

( via / via )

Star-Nosed Mole.

"madder lake"

morth in the mirror-world
floor is break to flinders
moment flurry

break, & reap brimstone
the drake-drizzle hour's
branching dream

left with folded leathery
wingspan spooling wire
of languagespar

Iris.

I used to fill my living quarters (when i lived alone) with scraps & broken toys & all manner of detritus--not much of which ever ended up in an artwork. I realize my collecting quotes & odd factoids (besides weird words!) in notebooks is of a piece with this--what in Goblincore are called "shinies". Not so much the arrangement that could be made of them (where one arrangement is as good as another or rather, one moment's arrangement is equivalent to another moment's arrangement), as the act of selection itself. Like that arcade game where you control a robot arm to pick out one toy from a heap of mixed others...

Gawain onstage.

( via / via )

"I don’t want to jump ship and just say, ‘Texas is crazy’,” Javaid said. “I want to be a part of the people trying to make it better. Because if not us, who?."

"LOCH NESS

Upon the vernal equinox,
when all our fictions come to pass,

a shadow leans across the rocks.
Beneath the water, clouds amass:

a nebula absorbs the loch’s
illusions — hoaxes, dreams in glass,

the jostling haze of history’s whims —
until, at last, the creature swims."

--@Anthony_Etherin

VCR-SX.

"twinge"

our own disorders · like obol fare
drawing the drapes · drone crying
& cardboard · the common currency here

i gather up galleons · goldless sunken
a pdf prized · by a patient few
rooms still around · though reived of their poets

the fountain finishes · a few last drops
i drop my gazing · the drive gone
save silvery · mist drifting

"Meeting a group of reporters in a downtown restaurant in Seoul on November 19, Choi said, 'I’d like to thank you for your continued interest in me in spite of my insignificant achievements'."

( via / me )

Cheerful bat.

"restrictions apply"

abstract traces · of an old crime
two voids diverge · two alter-anthems
accounts curved · by the force of forming
through a harsh haze · of hazard lost now

"Suddenly the newly minted writer must make laborious efforts to describe what he or she has written...This struggle takes place, I think, because the sincere reaction to making meaningful art is often speechlessness. We make art about what we cannot understand through any other method."

"Subject, it seems to me,
can still be rendered the way a frog looks at a snake, both nearly
the same temperature."

--Gerald Burns, from "On Myth and Time", 25

mirror, variable 4.

( me / lanny quarles )

Before I Was a Gazan.

"Those secret nooks where thickest hang the nuts" --J Stanyan Bigg

Temptation of Saint Anthony.

"baby rabbit at dawn"

brown bun frozen · by my still car
i walk wispily · wide berth giving
long without latching · my look on these figments
eyespots aching · to own the world

"In 1534, after the French explorer Jacques Cartier sailed to the Gulf of Saint Lawrence and claimed the 'New Land' for France, he encountered natives who knew Basque words and expressions." (via Mefi)

( via / me )

Secular Jewish Culture / Radical Poetic Practice.

"Tornado City"

scrub-typhus · scramble traipse
brightened the bruise · of brown night

the pool quiescent · pale turquoise
i organize early · agon's routine

shimmering shudders · shoot up the sky
what whommles · the whorled telescope

Mubo mobled · by a mogul churn
such symptoms · the Sampo flings

"Before long, he realized that what he had been doing in a part-time capacity could be his primary career."

"...As when some pair in lands
Of buried thunder, walk forth side by side,--
The unknown line of fate between--and earth
Yawns, and each, moonstruck, on a separate shore
Receding diverse, swift thro' sounding glooms,
Knows but a lengthening distance and a black
Abyss."

--Balder

~VERTICES 2~.

( via / me )

"...mean images are social dreams without sleep, processing society’s irrational functions to their logical conclusions. They are documentary expressions of society’s views of itself, seized through the chaotic capture and large-scale kidnapping of data."

"we talk of love many years before we know anything about it, and we think we know it because we talk of it, or because we repeat what other say, or what books tell us. so that there are ignorances of different degrees, and degrees of knowledge which are quite deceptive."

--amiel (via @infinita_fiori)

"And I understand how easily devotion can be exploited and weaponized."

"lousy with flowers"

oil slick rainbow infall
evil July diva
what falls, further seething
futhark trending ruthless

yet into form faintly
fix once if no foxhole
prayer's Bayesian priors
mangle the prinked Angstrom

Some clips from my work Mechanical Marvellous.

( via / via )

"This is just the tip of this nightmare."

"serial motets"

the sword-whisperer · whacks us with his absence
paints pictures · all titled Hellscape
the swamp swallows up · our swag our markings
only in memory · is the mincemeat iron

"After nearly four decades of scribbling away like this in semi-obscurity, Searcy, 69, has recently stepped out into the literary spotlight with Shame and Wonder, his first volume of essays, published in January by Random House."

"Now even the noblest
need watching. Trust's breeders
embrace arch blasphemers;
even friends' oath turns evil.
Let them fear the slow-faring
fuse of your cautiously
stooped and lightly-stepping
stealth, while your beard's healthy."

—in Crimsoning the Eagle’s Claw: The Viking Poems of Rǫgnvaldr Kali Kolsson, trans. Ian Crockatt. @Arc_Poetry 2014 (via @RNOCOrkney & @scotlit)

Eternal Ride.

( via / me )

There are Trains Which will not be Missed.

"The writer should be more than a clerk, or to turn a line by Frost the one who does our writing for us. I work sometimes in bookshops. Young people come in and their eyes light up when they see writers they've heard recommended -- Brautigan, Bukowski, the generation after Salinger, mostly, and Hesse. Here, it's as if they're saying, is at last an author who will understand me. Why they want to be understood, or feel understood, is a question they've not been raised to ask. (Keats loved to test things on his pulses, but probably didn't test his pulses on his pulses.) It's enough to put me off sentiment, or make me ashamed of my own gratitude, and that is a pity. But how American of them, to like things that are like themselves, because they are like themselves. Perhaps it's hard to think you're anything, and these writers solidify a shape. I wouldn't know. I don't read them. Maybe it helps to see your shabbier feelings compassionately expressed by a writer you've heard of." --Gerald Burns via

Composition 198.

"Its pure fingernails on high (Mallarmé)

Its pure fingernails on high devoted to their onyx
Anxiety, at midnight, supporting a torchbearer
Many a dream of evensong burned by the Phoenix
That does not collect a cinerary amphora

On the consoles in the vacant lounge, no folded shell
Abolished trinket of sound insignificance
(Because the Master went to draw tears from the Styx
With this the only object of which Nothingness is proud)

But near to the window on the empty north, a dying
Gold, according, perhaps, to the décor
Of unicorns kicking out of the fire against a nymph

She, dead, naked in the looking-glass still
That in forgetfulness enclosed by a frame
In sparkles soon after the septet make themselves seen"

--Jim Hanson 04/05/08 (via)

Can't Find My Way Home.