Am I Not the Animal by Belief Alone I Make Myself Possible?

Me in a Robert Serra at Glenstone, a rich fucks private art collection as museum but free, just need a reservation, usually need to make months in advance, it was Sunday morning an hour short because of clocks and the wind chill factor in the lows teens I was told on the eights so I what the fuck tried and got us in at 10AM, only slot open, Saul to (cause Beach Drive closed weekends) Parkwood to Knowles turns to Strathmore to Rockville Pike to Tuckerman to Falls to Glen (the bridge over Watts Branch where Glen, South Glen, and Glen Mills meet still magic) to there	UPDATE: 2022/3/16
Humanity cannot outgrow its death drive!
Waltzing towards Armageddon
This is a fossil-fuel war
The epidemic of covid complacency
Death of a political animal
Not only the first museum we visited since plague and then not-plague plague, the only shitlord showoff laundromat I’ve ever visited that *didn’t* charge me for the privilege of admiring shitlord’s collection
Low pay, no advancement opportunities
⤋	In which I jinx my reading of Wings	⤋
Henry James reviews America upon his return from self-exile
I read Ohle’s *Motorman* and loved and ordered the next Mordenke novel but weirdest the sherbet I thought between the two *another* attempt at Henry James, so here I am jinxing not only the having fun! read of Wings of the Dove I am jinxing my reading of the next Mordenke of Ohle
Shitlords loyal to their rubes, MLB edition
Maggie’s weekly	{ feuilleton }’s weekly
I will write about work here but for now I’m burying it in grids not because anyone who’d object reads but here is the Kids in the Hall allusion	Notorious Prude
The cats and dogs of Istanbul
Lynn Emanuel	Covering Ishiguro
Photo by L

NOTHING TENDER ABOUT IT

Carl Phillips

If as shame is to memory, so too desire,
then is this desire, this cloak of shadows,
that I wrap close around me, that I
refuse to take off?

But the lake looks endless.
And my boat’s increasingly but a slowish swimmer,
across the waves – I’ve known
hurt, I mean; and I have been afraid. Sometimes

the difference between forgetting
to bring along artillery and showing up
on purpose to the war unarmed

is just that: a difference. Sometimes a lost tune,
unreckoned on, unearned, resurfaces anyway. Just because.

Am I not the animal by belief alone I myself make possible?