Sunday, February 3, 2019

Zoo Stored Below the Klaxon Collection

  • I am in a hotel room just north of Richmond as I type this Saturday evening/Sunday morning.
  • Maryland woods still ice and/or snow and/or mud, we decided to explore Richmond.
  • I never will prefer urban walking to hiking in woods but I never thought I'd enjoy urban walking as much as I do, we're weekending again in Manhattan in March, going south of Houston.
  • We downed the east one way main of Carytown then upped the west one back, we Virginia Museum of Fine Art, look, here I am in the fabulous art nouveau wing:

  • Re: Northam, mentioned here mostly for blessing Serendipity that I am typing this sentence in Richmond Virginia, Earthgirl can vouch we planned this trip before this bullshit: 
  • I call bullshit that no one knew of the photo before Thursday.
  • Why all anti-interventionists will necessarily be smeared as Russian assets.
  • The Extreme Middle.
  • Today in the sociopaths that rule us. 
  • Gratuitous whack at the sociopaths that rule us.
  • { feuilleton }'s weekly links.
  • My vegetable love should grow
  • A bleggalgaze.
  • Still googlebot crawlered, thousand pings a day four days now running.
  • Leaving shortly to explore the trails of Belle Island, middle of the James.
  • In Chop Suey Books on W Cary Street I found:




  • I already owned the Robertson but loaned it, never got it back, I already own a collected Roethke, an old battered paperback, I'm gonna pretend this hardback is new.
  • Reminder: I cannot fuck with the font, even accidentally, more than once or what's fucked needs retyping, fuck that.
  • The poem below Egoslavian Bleggalgazing Anthem Two from the Coolidge.
  • Mongo's reminding me aside, I didn't forget, just formatted to play Egoslavian Bleggalgazing Anthem Two in a separate post than number one:


Clark Coolidge

Nudes. Partitionment of everything beyond yourself.
Separating from yourself the nod you couldn't
even then meet. Lamps lit on the avenue
wouldn't light the avenue. Incapable as
a clay pot with painted clay flowers.
Trembling at the face of a misted clock.
She removed her health with glown fronds.
Her clothes, her acquaintances. Little happens
in the bedroom. Zoo stored below the 
klaxon collection. Fire whittled the torso.
Adding to the collection of nudes.
I see bodies, the light of which I cannot touch.

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