- Charles Olson, born 105 years ago today.
- It is December 27. Here in Maryland the crabapple trees are blossoming and I'm gonna need dig my mower out of shed and cut the grass.
- The lie behind the timeline: how 2015 was framed.
- Too little too late.
- The worse people of 2015. Again, I fail to make a list.
- The corporate takeover of Red Cross.
- Redd Kross.
- A reminder there is no better metaphor for late-capitalism/neoliberalism than Professional Helmetball.
- On hate in general, on hating Hillary in particular.
- Trump, politics, pro-wrestling. Today's necessary duh.
- Radical salami.
- Wisconsin destroyed.
- Blegsylvanian melancholy.
- >> Return of Deleted Bleggalgaze << I didn't see a single mention of Zappadan this December. February 1st is BAD. Will anyone besides me remember?
- Of these ten 2015 books of poetry, I've read the Bang and Raab and urge the Bang and recommend the Raab to you. As for the rest, good thing I have access to a major university library's stacks and consortial arrangements.
- Though I am in a novel, and it's working, I've probably jinxed things and I won't even mention the novel's name or author.
MAXIMUS, TO HIMSELF
I have had to learn the simplest things
last. Which made for difficulties.
Even at sea I was slow, to get the hand out, or to cross
a wet deck.
The sea was not, finally, my trade.
But even my trade, at it, I stood estranged
from that which was most familiar. Was delayed,
and not content with the man’s argument
that such postponement
is now the nature of
that we are all late
in a slow time,
that we grow up many
And the single
is not easily
It could be, though the sharpness (the achiote)
I note in others,
makes more sense
than my own distances. The agilities
they show daily
who do the world’s
And who do nature’s
as I have no sense
I have done either
I have made dialogues,
have discussed ancient texts,
have thrown what light I could, offered
But the known?
This, I have had to be given,
a life, love, and from one man
But sitting here
I look out as a wind
and water man, testing
I know the quarters
of the weather, where it comes from,
where it goes. But the stem of me,
this I took from their welcome,
or their rejection, of me
And my arrogance
was neither diminished
by the communication
It is undone business
I speak of, this morning,
with the sea
from my feet