I Don't Even Know Where I Am, I Said. You'll Still Have to Leave, He Said
- I scrolled through the cemeteries yesterday, I had happy cause to think of one of the below
- Still dead but remembered as buds: Seb and Departure Delayed (though Brad's on twitter and we yap occasionally there) and anarchurious and what the Tee Vee taught and The Crow's Eye and scattershot and Randall (who I'm told by Prunella, who knows him in real life, went Angry White Male, dammit) (Prunella and I yap all the time via twitter) and New Crown Vic and Mandl Overboard (though we still yap on twitter) and The Chagall Position (Edmond died, dammit) and Multi-Medium and Being Toward Death and Montag and 100 Flamingos and and what will be left of them? and Fried Green al-Qaedas and fish (fellow mocomofo, we twoot at the other) and Ketchup Is a Vegetable and The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows and Tarzie and Bomb Party and Marooned Off Vesta and Roasty and Frances (though we still email, and I post her magazine articles) and Our God Is Speed and If You Can Read This You're Lying and Between the Hammer and the Anvil and Jake Backpack and Thudner and (I apologize if I missed your zombie-ass) I'm the outliar
- (sic)
- I've not moved ::: wood s lot ::: from it's top of Feedless to cemetery
- or Tom Clark from bottom of Because
- I cemetery voluntary v mandatory
- (not on purpose but I'm not surprised)
- leave you living if I know you're dead
- leave you dead if I think you're living
- Gaddis born 96 years ago today, here's the standard Egoslavian Holy Day post.
- Third bullet old itch triggered by new Tate (with ands for saids)
- Ducks, James Tate and Ducks, there's your doctoral thesis topic, happy giftmas
- There's new last James Tate poems, release next July,
- there are four in the latest Poetry, title poem this post:
