- The original plan: mountain pose my face and photo and paste in the frame of the previous post, but no
- So bleggalgaze (and >>deleted bleggalgaze<<
- Profit is just another word for destruction
- The biggest tech lie
- They are all assholes, our overlords' grifters
- I confess, I'd love to have heard what Barr threatened Murdoch with
- The irreconcilable temptations of Anne Carson (who did not win the Bogus Prize though she was odds-on-favorite)
- Handke did. I've tried, but no
- Krasznahorkai says Baron Wenckheim's Homecoming (wow so far) the fourth of a tetralogy (Satantango, Melancholy of Resistance, War and War), I'll reread the first three before I reread Baron Wenckheim's Homecoming (though the first act of BW'sH, the professor in the hut, eerily reminiscent of the first act of the cottage in Satantango, the train in Melancholy of Resistance, the bridge in War and War)
- Woke up with Dog Faced Hermans in my head
A TWILIGHT OF MINOR POETS
I once thought we were beautiful because we were beasts
I once found some pigs, so rumpy and pink!
Inconsequential! Sublimely compelled!
Dork pigs, quasi-canonically bent w/ grunt syllable.
I once thought we were beautiful because we meant nothing
I once thought we were beautiful because we were slant
or standing on our heels, staring out windows,
thinking some thing or other about light.
Or thinking on "some" - we were hesitant, humming,
stretched out - preludic - then
Return we to Don Juan. He begun/To hear new words, and to repeat them
I once thought we were beautiful because of "maraud" "naught' "fuck" "fire" "morning" "fake"
"dismember" "decalogue" "cow"
"Ars" "Stars" "Hound" "How"
I once thought we were beautiful because we couldn't make songs.
"Oh air, pride, plume, here - buckle!"