Friday, September 21, 2018

poem called a gnarl

  • Say to yourself, Hallelujah, your not gonna hear my most viscerally despised song here today.
  • Brother SeatSix sent me link to article saying Evernote is gonna die die die.
  • I finally start typing instead of scrawling, finally get organized, finally fucking edit, I kill Evernote.
  • Frances has a new article in American Theater!
  • On mistakes.
  • Alone with Elizabeth Bishop.
  • Three mile afternoon walk yesterday to and from Bridge Street Books and discovered there a new book of poems by Clark Coolidge, a regular here.
  • I want to read this, any of you in the UK have it yet?
  • A philosophical lesson in comparative reading and writing.
  • I surprise myself nightly how much more I write typing than I ever wrote scribbling.
  • Every second or fifth night I start to type about the day's shitstorm, after two sentences I'm fuck am I doing.
  • I hand-wrote a note yesterday, my scrawl in just the one month I've typed atrophying, s'funny
  • and frightening.
  • I scribbled more clusterfuckstorm coverage in two days than I type in two weeks.
  • Yes, slight format changes here since the scribbling stopped and the typing began, though I didn't make that connection - I know I've been writing here differently since the scribbling stopped and the typing began, sssh, I like it - the typing and the format changes.
  • Instead of music (or photo) blurt music blurt music poem music it's mostly now blurt music (or photo) blurt music poem
  • (though today it's blurt music poem), 
  • with the poem itself in larger text size, I like it. 
  • The printed word in peril.
  • I'd *like* to increase the font on the text here but if I change font size it affects ALL previously sized posts, I worry this shit, if someone knows some CSS magic or something...
  • UPDATE! OK, I just increased the font size, what do you think?
  • When I think about Scribbling Me and Typing Me I see two spy prisoners exchanged between hostile nations not nodding at the other as they pass on a bridge over a border river returning damaged to the home country, then say fuck me, dramafuck.
  • I'll look at Scrivener again since I bought it, I will scribble again.
  • Leonard Cohen, born 84 years ago today, the only person who both is in the permanent rotation for the two not permanently assigned seats in My Sillyass Desert Island Five Game and wrote my most viscerally despised song ever, nothing is even close.

[The sun came on on the rubbish dump poem]

Clark Coolidge

The sun came on on the rubbish dump poem
passed on the poems classified as insects
seen a carbon wool poem in many different countries?
poem's title wore off before anyone came to claim it
poems that could be consumed by the police
what to do about those poems      nothing
the discovery of a poem with startling implications
poem termed a pace machine    poem called a gnarl
poem still not available      the poem withheld
the poem cut off till further notice
poem that couldn't endure any reaction
you really believe that poem is possible?
a poem of great alarm and seasonal theory
the poem to produce the exact reaction it has


  1. Life in the Obama post racist era:

  2. Me likee big font too. Eyes, they no gooder. This is pretty cool even if I'm not a big fan of Greenwald. You decide: