- I won't apologize again or ask your forgiveness when I obsess on the sins of my former team
- or the sloppy observance of delicious self-loathing at rites lovingly attended
- at each rescratching of duh.
- Typing that spares a screed, at least today.
- The academy is largely itself to blame.
- The practical results of four decades of anti-capitalist scribblings.
- Maggie's weekly links.
- Bleggalgaze.
- { feuilleton}'s weekly links.
- Another bleggalgaze.
- Murakami interview - I tried the new one, I'm not ripe for it now.
- Bleggalgazes ginormous to insignificant be blooming as humans recognize their
- obsolescence
- NOW!
- this is feature, not a bug of the Clusterfuck.
- Music without a destination: on Debussy.
- Was cheated out of Fall this year here, sucks, even if Winter woods are prettiest.
LARKS
Ann Boyer
Fourteen stanzas through the brush please mention
I dig this slumping anti-sentence: punctuation
a meter: yards up. Tight and unapologetic promoters
of the agenda - my ratty-down people - tell me
again how you grooved across my brother's face.
My concern is that you may flee rumbling en masse,
burning ship songs, the landing party on fire, stumbling drunk,
tongues flapping like surrender, hair in Albion curls.
Brave little sots, dandy in your bones (they fold like architecture),
do not hope for a minute I would not turret, moat, and knight for you.
I would Harvester and John Deere and Pioneer for you.
I would (if a creek) tadpole all the names I cunning
for you: preordain, prehensile, prepay, prescient, predate.
I cunning for you: mistake, misery, misalign. My people
(larks) I would catfish. I would bass boat. I would cast a fly.
fewer bugs
ReplyDeletehttps://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/27/magazine/insect-apocalypse.html
Glad for Debussy.
ReplyDelete