A Monk Sealed into a Coffin

• I don't have access to the high tech scanner at work and I am not driving to MicroCenter to buy a copier/scanner to replace the copier (no scanner) at home I never used and is now broken, so phone camera it is
• Not having a working printer while working from a coach is not ideal, big-bed good scanner or not
• My laptop's camera is at the bottom of the screen, I didn't notice until I had to fucking zoom from home because of plague, people see up my nose, +1
• Self-portrait, yesterday, via phone camera, better here

• Last time, I promise, left click, hover
• Completely expected news: Obama, ordered, ordered Pete Klobuchar wetwork before Super Tuesday 
• (he certainly was ordered to threaten Warren with wetwork, worked) 
• today he endorsed Biden in a presentation that had Democrats weeping, that Saint Barack
• No one will remember it Friday, Thursday, today
• this plague, time's accelerating faster than our shitlords want, can't control
• slower than our shitlords want, rent's due
• Half April, all of May June July August September October, and four of those months have thirty-one days, tap your knuckles
• I am telling you three times we are being reprogrammed, I typed decades of bullets but not fart for eras, fine metaphors abound

   

• Prepare for the ultimate gaslighting
• Capitalism during plague
• Capitalism during plague, Speaker of the House style 
• The voodoo of exceptionalism
• I guarantee the neeras are more concerned than Republicans
• Save capital, let people die
• People power in a pandemic emergency
• Obamamotherfucker
• Today's powerful duh
• I have a good friend at Hilltop who does political game-theorying for a living, she asks why re: rest of April, all of May and June and July and August and September and October would it be smart to stop in-mid April the Let Trump Hang Himself campaign that's been the Democratic strategy since Trump won?
• Our shitlords will not let this crisis go to waste
• Good summation

                  

GASLIGHT

Tom Raworth

a line of faces borders the strangler’s work

heavy european women

mist blows over dusty tropical plants

lit from beneath the leaves by a spotlight

mist in my mind a riffled deck
             

of cards or eccentrics

was i

a waterton animal my head

is not my own
           

poetry is neither swan nor owl

but worker, miner

digging each generation deeper

through the shit of its eaters

to the root – then up to the giant tomato
             

someone else’s song is always behind us

as we wake from a dream trying to remember

step onto a thumbtack
      

two worlds – we write the skin

the surface tension that holds

                                       you

                                       in

what we write is ever the past
                

curtain pulled back

a portrait behind it

is a room suddenly lit
      

looking out through the eyes

at a t.v. programme

of a monk sealed into a coffin
          

we close their eyes and ours

and still here the tune
     

moves on