Sunday, July 22, 2018

Rounding the Memory of a Rooster on Top a Hanging Silence

  • Same photo, bigger, better, at other place.
  • Big group of High Holy Days upcoming, including Ashbery, whose line from Vaucanson:
It hurts, this wanting to give a dimension
To life when life is precisely that dimension.
  • runs reruns runs through my head like a great pop song.
  • My species is born cursed to give fucks and aggressively trained from birth where to give them
  • (giving them the wrong place considered far less sinful than not giving them at all).
  • I struggle to limit fucks given futilely precisely where fucks want me spend my fucks.


Rosmarie Waldrop

After bitter resistance the river unravels into the night, he says. Washes our daily fare of war out into a dark so deaf, so almost without dimension there is no word to dive from. Body weight displaced by dreams whose own lack promises lucidity so powerful it could shoot a long take to mindlessness. Fish smell travels the regions of sleep, westward like young men and the dawn. Then I return, too early to bring anything back, unsure of what I want, terrified I’ll fail, by a hair, to seize it.

We talk because we can forget, she says. Our bodies open to the dark, and sand runs out. Oblivion takes it all with equal tenderness. As the sea does. As the past. Already it suffuses the present with more inclusive tonalities. Not orchestrating a melodic sequence, but rounding the memory of a rooster on top a hanging silence. Or injured flesh. Impersonal. Only an animal could be so.

An avatar of the holy ghost, he chuckles. Or the angel of the annunciation beating his wings against a door slammed shut. Behind it, love already plays the organ. Without the angel. He is invisible because we have rejected his message.

On the old photos, she says, I see a stranger staking out my skin. As if an apple could fall too far from the tree. Yet I call her “me,” “my” years of furtively expanding flesh, with almost-certainty. It’s a belief that seems exempt from doubt, as if it were the hinge on which my doubts and questions turn. Still, I may seem the same “I” to you while I’ve already rolled it through the next door. From left to right.


  1. Pelosi is pretty funny. Trump is taller than Putin so he can't stand up to Putin, rather Putin has to stand up to Trump. Let's get real here.

  2. Tom Clark is correct when he writes:

    "Let’s be clear. This is not good. Prompted about her use of the word “massacre,” Ocasio-Cortez doesn’t stay with the experience of the Palestinians. Instead, she goes immediately to an affirmation of Israel’s right to exist, as if Israelis were the first order of concern here, and affirming that right were the necessary ticket to saying anything about Palestine. Asked about her use of the phrase “occupation of Palestine,” Ocasio-Cortez wanders into a thicket of abstractions about access to housing and “settlements that are increasing in some of these areas.” She apologizes for not being an expert on a major geopolitical issue. She proffers liberal platitudes about a two-state solution that everyone familiar with the subject knows are just words and clichés designed to defer any genuine reckoning with the situation at hand, with no concrete discussion of anything the US could or should do to intervene."

    Another typical thing I've heard liberals say regarding Israel is that it takes two to make a fight as if the Palestinians were an actual threat to the existence of Israel ignoring that Israel gets over three billion a year from the US which allows Israel to murder Palestinians with impunity sort of like shooting fish in a barrel. They just can't admit that the slaughter of Palestinians in the Gaza strip is a one sided affair.

    Like I said, the system changes people not the other way around. Hyphenated woman is learning fast. Hope and change, hope and change. Don't forget to vote!!!! Vote from a boat while floating in your moat, vote by rote, vote for a stoat!