July 2012
39 posts
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LIST OF ALL WORDS UNDERLINED IN GREEN FROM...
who became and fixed ceiling became good light pictured in postulated or counterpart see appended see with embarks shaves does finds here girls recycling running fables fixing or so the on to his girls them o wire fact with to his with sheering to road in his that working per ear and with from crashing the folk sliced his didn’t squatting scoffing plague javelins how grasper famous who triremes...
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LIST OF ALL CAPITALIZED WORDS FROM PAGES 1-50 OF...
I have been working on a very long thing, here are some of the words in it.
—
High Priest Vejovis Baltimore 40 Gades Piascenza Liver Baltimore Turks Virginia His Further Rites Charm City Art Space The Play About Ships Vejovis Hellenic Loutherbourg Beckford Loutherbourg Vejovis Pisan-side Godzilla Stage Lights Enclosed Box Janus Minerva In Temple Between Two Hills Tiber Island Aulus Gellius...
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Discourse on Love
Girl, the worst day of my life was the day
we saw Jack Spicer get mauled to death
by escaped tigers at Candlestick Park
which they closed down forever, buried
in salt and renamed Ate which they shudder at
over in center field at the AT&T stadium.
I threw a bobblehead of Ryan Braun at the beast
which bounced off uselessly and lay on the turf. Boy, the wind levels at AT&T Park are...
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This Is Not An Advice Blog
lehasardobjectif:
everyone I know is moving and my brother is trite bourgeois dog. how do you respond to my postulate that there is no “high road?” - Zach
I was going to ask him who his favorite Language Poet was but there were too many people around so I took his wine didn’t drink it or anything, just moved it to another table —I was in the moment. A car without a radio has not got that one...
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Ant Music Like a Phoenix
1.
This journal is called Dead Boyfriend and the cover
is a photoshop of two Saint Sebastians humping. This contemporary journal for witches.
Free scapular with a horse on it.
MLA format is fine. 2.
This journal is called BILLY THE KID I LOVE YOU
and it will shoot you and you will sigh and your smoke. Try taking off your cardinal cap if you’re trying to translate
our cool positive poems into...
ladyleonidas-deactivated2012072 asked: Are you doing what you believe in, or are you settling for what you are doing?
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Brahms
I guess I know why man’s hands were not assigned
In reverse, like flippers,
or some grotesque fleshy purse
mitting silvery meals at the bottom of a sea. For one thing, difficult to play Bach’s Chaconne,
or insert a DVD about it into a hole, or if you went blind
feel your way down a corridor, or to keep hitting
every object that you meet
until you meet bone. Frustrated too, the obvious glee
in...
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King of the Monsters in Carthage
Godzilla be our Hercules,
Uh, that is, our Punic Hercules.
Godzilla be our other guy. How many hours to becoming-Melqart,
idiot looking lizard on a ladder?
Your fire breath looks like shit.
I mean a mist. MY BAD.
I mean your entire being here is a huge hazard. That is, idiot looking lion in a pyre
at the top of two sets of stairs.
With the spot you tore us up
and threw our buff-ass pieces to...
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The Praise of Folly, 7: The Wise Father and the...
The Wise Father and the Foolish Son Godzilla, how come we never talk about Carthage,
or pile thousands of cubic meters of destroyed furniture
and sandstone rubble on top of our enemies’ broken bodies
or storm up the stairs to the rooftops and lay gang-planks
across the city? I’m a huge disappointment to Godzilla in my snail-head cap,
my precocious slime-trail and nervous facial tics. There’s...
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The Praise of Folly, 5: The Father of Folly & 6:...
The Father of Folly Become as baroque as possible
without understanding theory
like at all. The ground bass,
the ground bass, difference and laid in earth become as baroque as possible
with me but remember to leap in register
when you say “me.” Folly is a sexy fugue—but nor Saturn
nor Jupiter but Plutus—
become as baroque as possible Plutus a crosss Plutus a cross between a...
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The Praise of Folly, 4: The Harp and the Ass
Gesualdo has murdered us all with his lyre,
Chi dar vita I puo, ahi, mi da morte,
which was pretty cute. Just kidding.
Everyone was completely mutilated and the lawn,
and the Duke of Andria in a night-dress,
and I was swung around in my body until the breath
left my body.
Don’t joke about that. There’s nothing more embarrassing than being caught
in a downward chord progression...
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The Praise of Folly, 3: The Physician
Stranger, take heart—literally all work
undertaken on this earth is to save your life,
specifically, and that counts for something. I was watching Night of the Hunter with Matthew Fiorentino
at night and pursued by a boat. It’s a universal cure, or an imagined duet of an old implement singing along
with an evening, or touching a particular stone
to a substance with physick or a straight line
on...
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The Praise of Folly, 2: Folly Readily Receives...
‘the dance of the chacona
is wider than the seas’ the seas
the seas the seas that part in Cervantes where everybody
is snail-becoming with antennae hats
or a talking dog foils witchcraft
or a miracle occurs unseen in a hole. a main character says ‘vida bona’ instead of ‘requiem’
so everybody starts stealing from everybody else
and putting bags into bags and lifting metaphors
from other...
the lewis kaplan experience
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The Praise of Folly, 1/77: Epistle to Sir Thomas...
observe: a separate goddess, the ghost
of Pete Campbell in wet jammy-jams
yelling in at one hundred and eighty students. no matter the research, cannot figure out
what’s meant by ‘Ve-Jupiter’ his name like any other name passes out of sight
into the shadow of an arch, off of an axis
as a black hole on a white plane which was discovered ‘between’ two
and signed as such, laughing, both of...
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Elegy: Donald Food
Donald Food is dead again,
His rope ladder became too dainty
For the hurly-burly of the contemporary
And it went out coyly
And gone his adam’s apple
And his teeth were obscene
And his hair’s bones were oily. Roast beef his fingers beneath the pastoral,
Statues of the rotten creep in our once-dignified lobby,
And above all bones in the reliquary twisting
And luxurious in their boring panic!
The...
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Notes Toward a Subpar Fiction
Notes Toward a Subpar Fiction 1.
all characters reduced to a super-power
or a revisionist sex scene—
two trained bees in my belt buckle at a time,
one named Michael,
one with a cloud around my head.
that’s essentially it,
and my transparent limbs,
and candy stripes on my pink tights— 2.
maugre plutus folly
(nee ‘Folly’) spoke
furniture through
and hacking everything up
and opening every...
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Four Lines Taken From Lorine Niedecker
1.
Well, spring over, flows the land
toward ads for estuaries
before the previews paid for
by the Kennebec Council
for Bloodshed and Vapor.
Being bitten by mosquitos makes me sleepy.
I’m dying in my ice-water.
Living beneath this vista makes me sleepy. 2.
Good-bye to lilacs by the door
and—psych, I don’t know what lilacs are,
I am shown a roll of edible flowers
and cram bread into my mouth in...
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lynnsinger asked: Hello! I write about poetry, language, and transformation and came across your blog when searching for like-minded individuals. I recently wrote a blog entry on the feelings expressed through reading poetry. I would be honored for you to share your thoughts on the questions: Do you agree with me that poetry expresses the inexpressible?
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radicalaristocrat asked: On your lunch poem you wrote about assembleges. was that in reference to Deleuze's rhizome theory ?
Anonymous asked: write a poem about me or I will haunt your life and fuck up your kitchen happy firework's day eve, truly, Rudra the destroyer
HEY SO
I guess sometime lately I passed 10,000 followers? Well, thanks everybody. I have nothing to offer you at all, but I would be glad to answer questions or other asks for awhile.
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Five Maine Tourist Attractions
1.
one that controls tides,
or remains behind one telephone
for a signal,
one that addresses open windows
as ‘hey homo,’
attacks you on the street
and steals your pocket square.
another for tides.
A: the object in question
is a moon
with an aperture
and a hinge.
elsewhere
a grotesque narrative
encased in a block of concrete
and buried at a private beach. 2.
over a skull,
a cupola.
around a...
hellscookies asked: Which language are you translating from?
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"Manchmal," Herman Hesse
I didn’t even try translating the rhyme scheme yet. Maybe today. Incidentally, I would say that often these are more gentle detournements than translations-as-such, often I’ll go for a false-cognate or incorrect bilingual pun in favor of the strict translation, so that inevitably (except in some of the very simple ballads I’ve been playing with) the actual poet’s typical...
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'Die Stadt,' by Theodor Storm.
I translated this piece for David W. Pritchard. Storm wrote a novella I like very much, ‘The Rider on the White Horse,’ so I decided to translate this little coastal poem while staying in a little coastal town. Forgive my ‘thees,’ I couldn’t find a way around them.
—- By the grey shore, along the grey sea,
and close at hand the city;
on roofs the fogs press...
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Kaspar Hauser Song v.2, by Georg Trakl
Here are some things he loved,
our Kaspar Hauser:
the sun, the hills
on fire, the forest moving
around the body, birds
talking in black,
he goes nuts for this stuff, he loves
those green sprouting things, those restorations. Serious business, this life of shade
and the body pressed into
vines and moss, his face
so pure and stupid,
white as white chocolate melted in a pan,
stupid as milk.
God...
