- Planet took that Wednesday from inside Baltimore's glass trapezoid at yellow bridge.
- Blooger is fucking with the blogrolls, seems to have lost whatever feed updated many of the sites. It ate my Theme Song, it fucks with the size of the Egoslavian flag. Once this would have thrown me into a tizzy, now - fuck it. This is a good thing. This is not a good thing.
- At the World Nomad Games.
- The judge who will decide the North Dakota pipeline case.
- No more lesser-evilism. My two Hillaryite Colleagues are freaking the fuck out despite the best efforts of professional Democratic pundits.
- The misunderstandings of the anti-transparency Hillary-exonerating Left.
- Speculation rules the nation.
- One of the ironies which animates me is that I, who listen to music constantly, who loves to read music, have modest talent in my hands (I made it up to moderately difficult Beethoven but could never make it past, even approach a Chopin) and have the worst singing voice in the world.
- I have still not been offered a radio show.
- The limits of talent.
- Why he is not a poet.
- An eighteen hour playlist of The Beats.
- Dickinson on poetry, trauma, salvation.
- I haven't written in weeks. I'm between novels, false started three.
- September sucks on multiple fronts.
- Who speaks for the trees?
- So anyway, I spent last night w Scriabin. It'd been a while.
THE MAUVE NOTEBOOK
On a set you need bush rebels,
that numbing little chair while passing.
If we knock 'em out
seven precincts are going to show up.
It looks like you don't need oil.
I think it'll be fine.
Did she think that might be good,
or for the man who listens to it,
nothing to be done or thought,
Or for the man who listens to it,
an abrupt yawn, history or the other.
Home economics. Dr. Singalong
can't find his way back.
I don't know about that, but
at her lamps do you still see
the awkward ceremony, too serious?
Leave it that way, imperfect start beyond
where I was going.
Prison outside the perpetual sonata,
the only anxiety,
since you wonder what they don't do,
from your red zero heart page
waiting to touch your face.
Although they know about it and
it literally doesn't exist,
no, stay up and go to sleep,
unless it falls on the right side of the brain
positioned for so many forgeries,
I don't cut 'em any slack.
Assault on a clean front,
that's a lot to be turning into.
These residents, they start throwing 'em early.
Continue to open your door to mud!
Take the noon balloon to Rangoon,
gutta percha academy,
to the place of ice cream,
because, really, what difference does it make?
When it was time you went home.
Tears and flowers,
see how dirty your hands are.
We had a lovely dime.
Soon it will be seven I ask you.