Friday, April 18, 2014

Reading What Little Text There Is on the Graves

  • Of all the songs on my massive WFMU DJ premium playlist that's the one I can't get out of my head, which is not a complaint.
  • Thanks to those of you who've asked/offered good wishes for Napoleon. Vet is coming today at noon to take out Nap's stitches and start rabies shots. Will give update tomorrow.
  • To cat or not to cat, that is the question.
  • Thanks to those of you who've asked/offered good wishes for the Goat. No news, no new entries on the neighborhood listserv.
  • Thanks to those reading. There are some new links added to blogrolls, please check them out as they float to the top. As always, if there is someone/thing you think I would enjoy reading please let me know, and as always, if you are Kinding me and me not you please let me know. 
  • Futile Weekend Blogging starts today in Dead Blegsylvania.
  • Via Agi, your Good Friday song.
  • Two East German defectors walk into an art gallery....
  • Black Dog bark bark barking. Not me.
  • RIP Gabriel García Márquez. I'm not going to immediately promise a rereading, I'm not going to flood you with RIPs besides this one and the below link, though I will assert that whenever I see more than one butterfly in my eyesight I think of Gabriel García Márquez, especially if they are yellow.
  • A compilation of Gabriel García Márquez links.
  • Though please please please read this.
  • Vollmann, for those of you who do.
  • Muriel Spark on how to write a letter.
  • Robert Fludd's Temple of Music.
  • Fire Matt Williams!
  • Always thus.
  • Mary Ruefle draws a giraffe.
  • Via the youtube below, sought for this reason, I've learned her name is pronounced ROOF-lee.
  • I am on my second trip through her lectures collected in Madness, Rack, and Honey.
  • If I played my Sillyass Deserted Island Five Game for currently working poets....


Mary Ruefle

We are a sad people, without hats.
The history of our nation is tragically benign.
We like to watch the rabbits screwing in the graveyard.
We are fond of the little bunny with the bent ear
who stands alone in the moonlight
reading what little text there is on the graves.
He looks quite desirable like that.
He looks like the center of the universe.
Look how his mouth moves mouthing the words
while the others are busy making more of him.
Soon the more will ask of him to write their love
letters and he will oblige, using the language
of our ancestors, those poor clouds in the ground,
beloved by us who have been standing here for hours,
a proud people after all.


  1. Futile Weekend Blogging starts today in Dead Blegsylvania.

    Nah, she's merely pining for fnords.

  2. speaking of bunnies, i checked 'watership down' by richard adams out of the moco publib this week - i read it in one gulp (stayed up all night) three decades ago,and wondered how much i'd like it now - but missus charley has appropriated it as her metro ride read, so i'll have to wait a while before i know