Sunday, May 24, 2020

The Statuary in My Mortuary

Tomorrow's birthday will be honored here, I have been reading the poet throughout the year and listening often to the band I associate with the poet, so here, holiday weekend links at the official start of the blogdays of Summer

  • Restocked the Moribund mortuaries, if you no longer see your blog in its blogroll its because your blog hibernating, comatose, or dead, I've moved it to one of the two cemeteries I maintain so I notice if you reanimate and float to top of cemetery blogroll like a drowned corpse released from its rope floats to top of lake. No one was deleted
  • Reminder: if there's someone or something you think I should be reading please let me know
  • Holiday weekend reminder in Dead Blegsylvania at the official beginning of the blogdays of Summer, thank you for reading and for Kindness 
  • if you are bumping me but me not you please let me know
  • Furs binged last night 


Alice Notley

Detective Hardwood looks like Batman this morning
pouty cupidy mouth
and a lot of black sculptural clanking
the statuary in my mortuary,
the Masonic Hall having burned again in dreams
but everyone still keeps skipping towards it
it's a hollow a round shell
my life as the shape of the ways I've been fucked
by prevailing thought & practice
all the conscious and unconscious sexisms
selfishnesses affluences assumptions suppressions in drift

GET   RID   OF   ALL   CONTROLS—is what the Soul keeps screaming.

I look up someone grins
you're a bloody feral wolf-face I like you.

I sleep-walked in a dream to a man's apartment—
a man I'm doing business with—
I forgot, but how could I? how I'd gotten there,
and when I die will I remember all such forgotten things 

                                                                          I want to
remember now.

I apologized to the man for not adhering to office hours
it was four a.m. Office hours are better he said.

Don't arrive anywhere in your sleep
don't mix up night and day
soul and detective. No.

There must be so much to reclaim
because I'm so limited

They broke your day
they fought it you
forgot how advantageous
to be fit with god and not see eye
you forgot gold sun brilliant
in this story
go in conscious.

That queen that Assyrian woman
was so cruel and that never
occurred to her ... but

those eyes saw raw smells and gods everywhere dusty

this dust I was truly assembled from
at least as you, we are communally

If you say you'll hurt me, do you
really mean me

I  can't be, can I, hurt?

“Hut Sut Tut Mut there's gonna be a wedding”
I dream that's a song. Wake up with, in my head,
“They say don't go
on Wolverton Moun-tain” (“Her tender lips/are sweeter than hone-y”

I have a drop of blood on a front tooth
I kind of don't mind—
This the list of what we've done:

         It was different structure we killed it
         put beasts in the refrigerator
         and that was almost as bad as my own enslavement.
         Then I saw Christ's blood pumped into a rejuvenating mummy.
         This great sickness we're part of apple clot
         and can you really chew it detective
         Oh sure I can, I'm Robert Mitch-ham.

you've broke your own sto

I'm sort of hysterical

the E is it for hope, cutting

the E might be for Hope


and bloody, the bloodiest is Hope.

Where are the E's of exactness?

E is my middle name


  1. Time is an egg.
    Just kidding. Thanks for the interesting links. The beaches are full of crowds in Florida and South Carolina I think. God watches over every little sparrow in the green forest. Does that apply to beach goers as well? Will there be a president Biden library? Will it have a statue of his penis? Will my elbow stop hurting?

    I'm tending towards the Martian invasion theory lately. It just makes so much sense and explains a lot.

    Sometimes I wish I was on Mars.

    Jesus died for your shins, so take care of them. Always wear proper socks.

    I don't know how anyone could look at this world where all life depends on eating other life, and believe that this was designed by a beneficent invisible dude reclining in the clouds. Maybe we could shoot him in the ass with a Nike missile.

  2. God watches over every little sparrow in the green forest....I don't know how anyone could look at this world where all life depends on eating other life, and believe that this was designed by a beneficent invisible dude reclining in the clouds.

    one cannot deny that the 'circle of life' involves a lot of eating - missus charley and i, perhaps overly sentimental, have in recent years reduced our consumption of intentionally killed animals

    in the song 'bungle in the jungle', which i had the pleasure of seeing performed live once - i have just learned that it had little airplay outside of north america - one hears

    he's a lover of life but a player of pawns

    he who made kittens made snakes in the grass

    'he' is a personification of the creative forces of the universe

    someone once said to me that the mystical worldview, as he saw it, rested on 3 basic beliefs -the universe is here on purpose, humankind has or could have some connection with that purpose, and it is possible to improve one's ability to perceive and act in accordance with the universe's purposes at the location and time at which you find yourself

    if these beliefs are true - and i hope they are - why do we live in a world of pain?

    one wonders - but we live as well in a world of pleasure, of truth and lies, of beauty and ugliness, triumph and tragedy, of degradation and exaltation - all part of life's rich pageant