March 2010
18 posts
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Do you miss me? Do you love me? Are you keeping? I’m not. Not a bit.
I ought to write you seriously, I want to write you seriously, I will write you seriously, but not today. I can’t. The only way I can get through today is by reliving golden moments from my recent past. If I tried to think a thought or plan a plan all the little nylon threads that are holding me together would snap.
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“And, of course, that is what all of this is - all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the...
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I drink my liquor from the palm of a child who spoke in tongues and smelled like sun - Mark Linkous
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Do you want to know how thought functions, to know its effects? Read the poets. Do you want to know about morality, about politics? Read the poets. -Joseph Joubert
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from The Notebooks of Joseph Joubert
Are you listening to the ones who keep quiet?
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from The Passion According to G.H. by Clarice...
I was now so much bigger that I could not see myself anymore. As big as a landscape in the distance. I was in the distance. More perceptible in my ultimate mountains and in my most remote rivers…how can I say it, if not timidly like this: life is it self my self. Life is it self my self, and I don’t understand what I say. And then I adore.
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WAITING FOR ICARUS by Muriel Rukeyser
He said he would be back and we’d drink wine together He said that everything would be better than before He said we were on the edge of a new relation He said he would never again cringe before his father He said that he was going to invent full-time He said he loved me that going into me He said was going into the world and the sky He said all the buckles were very firm He said the...
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Page by Joe Bolton
Here is the page, half darkness, half silence, hoping To find at last the way to you I could not find. It contains all my boredom, sickness, and desire, Those things I said in drunkenness, in rage or love. Like water, it holds its drowned who are without names. Like time, it was just a way of passing the time. It lied now and then—I confess—for your pleasure: Some misguided aim of ...
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“I want to create an atmosphere that can be consciously plumbed with seeing,” says the artist, “like the wordless thought that comes from looking in a fire.”
— James Turrell
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I wanted to look up words. I wanted to look up velleity and quotidian and memorize the fuckers for all time, spell them, learn them, pronounce them syllable by syllable — vocalize, phonate, utter the sounds, say the words for all they’re worth. This is the only way in the world you can escape the things that made you. - Don Delillo
A simple mirror trick can relieve the pain caused by phantom limbs. Since the mind fixes on the image of the limb at the moment of trauma, the brain registers it as still in pain. The trick is to place the patient in a box with an angled mirror that reflects the working limb. Miraculously, as the patient moves the work…ing limb so that it appears both arms are in motion, the phantom limb...
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Really, I visualize the dead as well as the living. I visualize you who I will never know. We are constant strangers. I imagine you, I stare at you when I write.
- Frank Stanford
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-Pier Giorgio Di Cicco
I had to dream of heaven, or oceans, to keep from taking my wrists out on myself
“You know all their stories but none of their stories know you. And you’ve...”
– I Wrote This For You
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e.e. cummings, 1923
i will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery with chasteness of sea-girls Will i complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise After a thousand years
lipping flowers And set my teeth in the...
