Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Monday, July 29, 2013
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
it is hard to write for no audience, to write for yourself, especially when you despise the personal.
try writing for yourself when you are dead and everyone around you is forgetting everything, including you.
try writing for yourself when you don’t have a self and the man you used to project yourself onto is still alive, playing deafeningly loud about the absence of you.
he loves his lament for me.
i’m going to have to make myself up. maybe write for this audience of shades. they will forget everything i say, all of it, every word, every phrase.
i will sequence timeless dark into little spans of now. with words.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
Thursday, March 21, 2013
i’ve queued a bunch of posts about black holes.
they are all quotes from the hubble telescope site (each quote will include a citing link)
…but you might prefer to read them metaphorically…
I think they might be all for Orpheus.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
The second time I ever saw you I learned what I had read in books but I never had actually believed: that love and suffering are the same thing and that the value of love is the sum of what you have to pay for it and anytime you get it cheap you have cheated yourself.
William Faulkner, Wild Palms, 1939 (via malevichsquare)
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Well, I’m here looking through an old picture frame
Just waiting for the perfect view
I hope something special will step into my life
Another fine edition of you
ROXY MUSIC - EDITIONS OF YOU
Friday, January 18, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
To you I belong, however time
may wear me away. From you to you
I go commanded. In between
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you
take it up and up and up look!
all becomes festival!
Rilke (tr Steven Mitchell)
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
"Sing me a lyric," the maiden sighed.
Wallace Bruce, Wayside Poems (1895)
COME BRING THE LAST
LET’S MAKE CHOICES.
LET’S USE KNIVES
THROW THEM UNTIL TEARY-EYED
THEY ARE [————] AND SHARP.