Friday, June 11, 2021

Determining the Candor That Cavity Is Good For

Wowee, listen to that version. Me & George, people can vouch. Above released yesterday ahead of a 50th Anniversary Box Set of *All Things Must Pass,* the second most listened to album of my life. Guess who's buying, whenever and wherever I can, the box set

Funny, on heels of Dara Anti-Kaboom as event and me and event-scavenging, I searched to type in a credit card number but no field yet exists in honeytrap. I don't think they'll run out

The new Dara, don't read that, read this

Warning: you don't want *me* to start snorting the haiku of short stories
Way past time to leave America
Grievance christers are here to stay
The last post's Thursday Night Pint voice, I've been reading not only C's short stories but Lydia Davis' and short short stories give me ideas
Today in self-surveillancePoverty is a shitlord weapon of choice
Good news: no interest in writing short stories as in disclaimer any simularities unintentional in my poems, easy epiphanies there OK
Bad news: dialogue in haiku it will have to be before abandoned
ShitlordiaCrackers are weirdYes
Don't worry, I'll not short story at youDialogue haiku
Children of the homunculusSome thoughts on the common toadHow I lost control of my own face
I twitter came with news of the new George release thinking kaboom you too
Philosophy is bullshitWar PornIHMDNine rules for the woke birdwatcher
A few but no, fine metaphors abound but at least they're my fine metaphors abounding, refreshed, reset, fuck it restored
Con's final stageName the solutionBrief history of the Devil
I tried *Forgotten Work* but I wasn't reading well at time, am taking it to Michigan week after next, will try again
Colin Newman on Rundgren's Wizard/True Star


Jana Prikryl

Having desired little
more than the

arrival of the little more
that arrives,

outside our window a cypress
of model proportions.
Its patience seems to widen
the nights we sleep in Rome.

Warm flags draw a tortoise,
it scrapes too near.
Our friends hurry over when they hear,
exclaiming over its mute
distinctness and helpless slow efforts to flee.

Density pours into swallows and shadows:
spilled with abandon each morning,
begins then the slow work
of receding.

The joints announce their new allegiances.
Metaphors swarm the surfaces of things.

Night broken into, it's the sub rosa
singling out
I ought to have expected
from Fra Angelico's small panel
among others,
the souped-up full-spectrum wings
combined with a mood of reverent submission
in both figures
warning of experience
yet to come.

Starting now she'll reason with herself
(imagine bulbs expecting stars
for effort!), aware of being always overheard,
subject to unprecedented measures
of integrity, like an author.

While a substance of landscape, mineral,
leaches into blood vessels
quietly steadily, meaning in this case
nothing is damaged;
extravagance of umbrella pines
propping their fingers under the bonus horizons
of the hills, redundancies
boosting the city's resemblance to itself.

A painter once squared himself against a difficult question
and said no one could just create
a landscape,
but isn't it true
that expectation builds a neighborhood
and there is nowhere else that you can live.

It was possession, turns out, by a force whose intention
touched the first body alone, a body changed
again precisely to its own form,
a very special intention.
discretion, the grit of a damp trowel
explores my mouth, at leisure
the candor that cavity
is good for.


  1. oh the abundance
    of plentiful metaphor
    he sang 'what is life'

  2. you point to colin newman's praise of todd rundgren's 'a wizard - a true star' - he said Rundgren is the only artist who made him cry at a gig

    i don't recall ever crying at a gig, but i did often cry, when playing the record forty-some years ago, to 'sometimes i just don't know what to feel'

    here's todd singing it live at daryl's house

    i cried a couple of weeks ago while discussing the rundgren/utopia song 'hiroshima' - i had showed missus charley the concert version live in japan

    may the creative forces of the universe have mercy on our souls, if any