others associate the decreation with an unstoppable flow of leakage while others associate the decreation with falling rates of profit

• Another self-portrait, yesterday in the tomorrowocene, tomorrow in the alwaysocene
• Our sociopath overlords' upcoming shitfit
• Our sociopath overlords
• Year of Manufactured Hysteria
• Capitalism is wonderful!
• But our sociopath overlords' private Leer jets will remain safe
• The problem with the Labour Party
• The threat to life as we know it
• What does it all mean?
• Avedon's occasional links
• Conversing with Trees
• Dogs can do math
• Bonfire Night
• Big Other's Anthology 2019 (where I found a second time the Borzutzky poem below)
• New Louise Glück poem
• Josipovici on his new book Forgetting
• Woke up with this in my head:

POEM #1022

Daniel Borzutzky

There is not much excess
and what there is is barely perceptible
the blank ones disappear from our vision
no one notices until
there is a dramatic decrease in surplus value
         
the war is born
and the blank ones disappear again
but really their disappearance is subjective
some see no one
while others see everyone
                   
for some the extermination of the cancer
is inseparable from the decreation of the city
others associate the decreation
with an unstoppable flow of leakage
while others associate the decreation
with falling rates of profit
and the barely perceptible
appearance of the human body
       
out of the dead refugee sprouts
a breathing poem
            
out of the dead soldier sprouts
a breathing poem
             
out of the dead city sprouts
a breathing poem
            
but when the city disappears
so do the poems
             
and when the poems disappear
the dead are assassinated
          
picture a heart covered in dust
and picture a poem sprouting out of it
           
picture a heart covered in dust
and picture a child chasing it
         
picture a bullet that kills a child
and picture the soldier who tosses the child into the sea
       
the soldier kisses the earth and says
it’s not my fault the people are being born and dying
         
the pastor calls out the names of the children to the congregants
       

to each name they respond
dead