Betrayal and Its Off-Color Quarter-Tones

• Well there's a moon, it's in the sky, it's called the moon.
• Not intentionally, and after the Bleggalgaze in which I said I like the way the blog looks now, the last few posts all had youtubes or narrower than normal photos and the blog looked squashed. My apologies.
• Class composition and its discontents.
• The Labour surge in Britain: Unless Labour wins, expect that Labour MPs will launch another coup attempt against Corbyn, even if his results are good. I want to emphasize that they are doing so for ideological reasons. The excuse that Corbyn was hopeless doesn’t cut it any more, but they will still try to take him down. This is because they genuinely don’t believe in his politics: They want to be slightly less cruel Conservatives, not 60s style social democrats... Those are their genuine beliefs: They’re neoliberals. They blocked censuring Tony Blair for Iraq, they like cruel austerity politics, and war.
• Corbyn is not going to win. Hope I'm wrong.
• Tomorrow will not be come(d)y gold. Hope I'm wrong.
• My predictions are useless: I thought Sessions would be Himmler by now.
• In case you didn't get the allusion re photo:

• The Demolition of American Education.
• Former Vice-President Biden to headline Romney summit.
• Six of one, half dozen of the other.
• How to draw a tree.
• Messiaen: finding salvation through birdsong.
• Jason Molina: riding with the ghost.
• I really really like Moon Duo:

BETRAYAL

Alice Notley

I keep going back to that word
the French like it trahison the French are partly me
in micro-particular disposition I sing
I’m most fascinated by metaphysical
betrayal and its off-color quarter-tones I mean
I mean it      that a bit of matter could humiliate
    

another like in a beginning when of angels…
No I believe they play me like a winning king but
in a future I know already while scourged
I remember when X and Y made Ted miserable
Until he died? before he died? but that's before the
time of these poems of my emplacement in the zeros
   

Do you know that all history’s happening at the same time
and see the future if you scry, gross matter      It is 2007
someone dear having died I am on an air-
plane to San Diego and suddenly see blue and orange geo-
metrical formations around the periphery of my vision
both eyes is this part of the poem I'm the singer of
    

tales of bliss and structure of the universe yet unperceived
Is it built like what I'm talking is it in
fact structured when I write Voices Ross, the dear dead
speaks to me in the kitchen to say he’s happy the dead are
happy I later believe some are sad sometimes, cyc-
lically until they work it out my poems help them
     

that my poems help everyone that I am re-
structuring whatever this is that is everything so
that nothing’s lost but placed new-pieced into a collage
of the transpired remade into a transcendental richesse
opening of graves gold light burst out: Grave of Light
gravid of light Grave Alice and laughing Allegra
    

ocean of chaos breaks collage of tones you know
and who I was am and will be come back to me
in an enormous betrayal by who once left heaven
all those wanting to be matter my own body
born no one can understand      born no one can com-
prehend how many possibilities we once were be-
    

fore anyone deceived a rock by breaking it
Ross tell me what      You got it he says and what
you’ve kept to yourself is cool but the Fibonacci Series
being no longer how shall we say these irrelevancies
They slide into the collage I say      Yeah he says
That on the other hand anything will do any glue
   

Because I was upset at your death mine eyes did break
not into tears but figments colored particles castle bat-
tlements they call them swim before me collapse
I rise again for I am everything participatory in
the earth world’s illusions this is an homage to Ross
all that exists communicates cry a little, cry

 

betrayal that there is dying though death the other breathes