Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
Lanny Quarles wrote: sugar ray leonard nemoy perversely builds his nautilust from the dismantled remains of the global war machine manta, a smoky and gleeful pod of chimerical pines for a home, he reigns as alphabeast over the tiny misbehaving island of Cyclopian Rocs where once Sinbad sinned bad, and where Caliph Mickey Mouse once admitted 'his' Eunicity to Moon Unit Zapata, her huge aloof skies being investigated by ingestions of Interpretol. phanero wrote: this verse is a striated heap wherein I'll, in this mantle, well up, a thrall to the lupine eye, which, remote and rapacious, yokes a pattern so infinitely tiny, spieling, spilling chimerically, the skies, the skeins of the misbehaving sisters. - Original Message - From: Harrison Jeff [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, April 05, 2006 3:55 PM Subject: The Prospect, Lackadaisical this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies this verse is a stranded populated stopgap wherein I'll, remandered (the hell with Mickey Mantle), tell Interpol of, like the moon's proof, and with obdurate spleen, opting space raised to huge pines, spieling, alpha male likely, the smoky pod skies sugar ray robinson caruso displayed just the negative amperes that I, under-enthralled, perceiving rink rats, cooled over briny fires, stemmed as certain file functions, goggling at the vision of geese in the atria, present for intense stock exchange, puttering modestly in the garden near the winch, spying a gross fantasy a-sail on the rumour of seaside bling, sweating out the lodge, groping thru handbags for the extreme message doctored late in the day, raising nimoy on theories of dawn of the deed and exaggerating the potency of pretending to be a wheel, all the while relating to the exhaustive exchange between one verb tense and another, always associated with ratchetts
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
Lanny Quarles wrote: sugar ray robinson caruso sugar ray robinson caruso go to the lonely valley in your woven palm fedora! go and sing the tenor part (of Fedora) while you shadowbox shadow box the Mantuan Muse of Madness That Virgilian Anxiousness of tending goats near the ocean whose thrum and hush crash and vumm Bug Jargal a buggy boxer's cortex suite whose tools lie oxydizzying in the saline immensity corrupted useless as a woman in the bed of a proper pirate O that you might sing to those cannibals a song so sweet and empty so furtive with destiny that the flame of its cooing breath might open a window into a world without long-pig a world in which utterance representing more than animal mouth noise might come to mean a star-light born from within and kindling a universal brotherhood of wonder a feeling which would not fade like the footlights of the theatre but grow with each passing day until in its gnarled unceasing brilliance it might open itself into a Weird Aeon where knowing flowed and burst through the cataracts between us where finally in that amazing jungle world of hope birds of paradise all would throb to the glorious izbokbinelda of pure energy where finally I might be buried in a white chocolate Yeti-rolls whose stylized curls mimic'd the feathered moustaches of Quetzalcoatl in a jade tophat where finally sugar ray robinson caruso might put down for the count the blackness of the human heart down onto the canvas where it belongs a painting of words in a fugue-ish ring whose circle is squared by language's shipe-shafting mastike its original error whose is as Oz makes an emerald grown like a gobsmacked schnoz; Pow! w/ hummingbirds for blood.. Lanny Quarles wrote: sugar ray leonard nemoy perversely builds his nautilust from the dismantled remains of the global war machine manta, a smoky and gleeful pod of chimerical pines for a home, he reigns as alphabeast over the tiny misbehaving island of Cyclopian Rocs where once Sinbad sinned bad, and where Caliph Mickey Mouse once admitted 'his' Eunicity to Moon Unit Zapata, her huge aloof skies being investigated by ingestions of Interpretol. phanero wrote: this verse is a striated heap wherein I'll, in this mantle, well up, a thrall to the lupine eye, which, remote and rapacious, yokes a pattern so infinitely tiny, spieling, spilling chimerically, the skies, the skeins of the misbehaving sisters. - Original Message - From: Harrison Jeff [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, April 05, 2006 3:55 PM Subject: The Prospect, Lackadaisical this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies this verse is a stranded populated stopgap wherein I'll, remandered (the hell with Mickey Mantle), tell Interpol of, like the moon's proof, and with obdurate spleen, opting space raised to huge pines, spieling, alpha male likely, the smoky pod skies sugar ray robinson caruso displayed just the negative amperes that I, under-enthralled, perceiving rink rats, cooled over briny fires, stemmed as certain file functions, goggling at the vision of geese in the atria, present for intense stock exchange, puttering modestly in the garden near the winch, spying a gross fantasy a-sail on the rumour of seaside bling, sweating out the lodge, groping thru handbags for the extreme message doctored late in the day, raising nimoy on theories of dawn of the deed and exaggerating the potency of pretending to be a wheel, all the while relating to the exhaustive exchange between one verb tense and another, always associated with ratchetts reply to the cannibals in bas-relief, poke asymptotes or whatever ringtone while Sugar Ray Leonard Nimoy sweats out factory numerals as a flat rate base pay overweeing stodgy frce of umbrella within the gasp of belly up stronger than a fence of trees around a neat bucketful of Walden Pond the miserable excuse for a glacial backpack download more than the last nonsense string reason on a piano throne and stop the buttress with wet fees those who violate the junction construe overpass nestled in the roadway past the pond into the thicket of city structures where Rays of Robinson beam brightly and beams of Leonards and even a poky throb of nifty Nimoy makes an appearance telltale and rattled Mickey, serving billions daily
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
Gradiva, Grad-Ivan, The terrible poke-weed you salad is such as Vulcan's mulch seen uncommonly as that strange foot you may find attractive who knows what lurks in the starships of mien on these intramercurial flights of phancy Urbain Le Verrier You were the curve of these pointy ears You were the Esperanto Witch Kirk not of Dungb nuox working your forked klang on into the ministry of Thor's ode The Los-psi blacksmith whose portrait by Linnel featured an eggish brow wicked as a dew-drop among stratospheric zombies of pure cloud, a spy for fun, weighing in to be judged, a featherweight in a heavy metal hottentottub whose body-snatching ulcer nearly robbed the world of a logical symbolon a Zhou-Li folded out like a parasol, a flaellum of whimsical leaves a domed xanadu of stringy brains Kubla Khan wore onions, Boss Tweed ate shirts, Tristan and Iseult need bossa nova (foam end the revolution!!!), Gawain and the gangrene night sips plum whine, and la belle dame sans Mersey Beat (repent repent, or rinse and repeat) gets jiggy without then lo! (not J-Lo, would that the cushions of society could last), I said unto Scotty, refer to your most septic atomic wanderlust, me laddie, inside the minute stars and starlets versed in probed and goners and what next week may bring and he saith unto me (hoot mon) be auk back at you and featherless, and he drove the real rocket into meaningless squares of flat universe whilst I, probable, and about to anoint toast, remind myself that sorties amongst those pre-Raphaelites in the next sector must settle some claim, and indeed Jeff (viz.)Harrison is confirmed of punctuation (!!), and I as a whippet travesty besqueak the ordinance after reflection and condone, and this Quarles character just happened with deadly rinse or prongs associated with Cardassians, heliopods? quogga? rapsheet??? what evs, and Spock fucks with some switches, twirls a couple of eyebrows, sends sausages of ethos humour out of his gasbag, warns Sulu of great auks and smiles on the feet of Uhuru, meanwhile on another platter far far from here, Kirk grows over the smoky remains of mescal, or Aztec maybe? or at least he had an inkling, while laying a framework for a conditioned response, suitably intellectual and mindbent (sort of like Blue Cheer in a garden and it is summertime you asshole), but further than that let us wait till some frantic television inscape corrects the marginal comfortably, this tube shall pass --LQ and AHB continuing past the 5 post limit--
Re: i.m. Raphe Malik
Gerald Schwartz wrote: nice poem, Gerald. nice too to see you posting. Allen
all we gonna do
Say it so I will not go sound goes off the edge of the rocket into the reaches of sky it meant we'd love some new president Eroding around here feel inclined to blow my mind The different cliffs off of which we fall seem similar to any sorting of trouble I hope no one hangs around one more little song is all we gonna do Saints alive you're saying Walk in squares It's a long way down including probable cause and supposing you are down? Who goes that way without relief? August pairings of words become natural resilience in the face of language Perhaps a verb will illustrate the motion of this fall We were not ready to travel sand bars today which just goes to show you The hid are out out for the year It's a lot of face A lot of crank air Get hung up feed the ducks with a bun this is called the farewell song written by sam Get over there man alright ok They all come out to groove about Being nice and having fun in the sun Practical like stayed back when the wind roughed up the plenitude staying put turn the lights off carry me home hey uh I think the iron butterfly’s on next Keep your head still I'll be your thrill the night will go on my little red mill You'll be at my show all we gonna do
vintage blue
AHB: I suspect that every text in an unknown alphabet is a poem. In ibThe Pound Era/b/i Kenner points out a passage in Shakespeare that gets misinterpreted nowadays because people aren't aware that the term igolden boys/i refers to dandelions (don't make me hunt out the book, just trust me). I don't know how a foreign Billy Collins would look to me compared to a foreign Clark Coolidge. Presumably stanzaic poetry is still stanzaic in Cyrillic.I think the reading of such texts would free the texts of meaning. Unless the reader was wicked good at code-breaking, and detect the patterns in this unknown alphabet, the reader could make whatever out of the written shapes. I don't know if we're to credit Gaudier-Brzeska's ability to read ideograms with no prior knowledge. It sound nice. Maybe he was just riffing. Your questions really just put me back on my heels. Translations very often leave me dissatisfied. I'd rather read Pound's Chinese translations, which he wasn't shy abut changing for his own purposes, than the perhaps more scholarly, but dry, Arthur Waley ones. And I don't like the ones Amy Lowell was involved with, garnished with flowers. I think my point is that the translation should be poetic, and likewise the readers reading of an unknown alphabet. Poetic, that is, rather than 'accurate'. We have the example of abstract painting whereby the forms on the canvas are what they are not what they seem. Thus, I suppose, if you give me a Cyrillic text, I'm going to see isomething/i, influenced by whatever is present in me at the time (Rorschach test?).are such question as you posed above ones that you frequently ponder?
Re: vintage blue
crap, sent to wrong place. potentially makes more sense as part of Antic View blog.
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
Harrison Jeff wrote: this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies nice--sounds Romantic but reads modern (or what the hell word is better than that) Allen
Re: The Prospect, Lackadaisical
phanero wrote: this verse is a striated heap wherein I'll, in this mantle, well up, a thrall to the lupine eye, which, remote and rapacious, yokes a pattern so infinitely tiny, spieling, spilling chimerically, the skies, the skeins of the misbehaving sisters. - Original Message - From: Harrison Jeff [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, April 05, 2006 3:55 PM Subject: The Prospect, Lackadaisical this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies this verse is a stranded populated stopgap wherein I'll, remandered (the hell with Mickey Mantle), tell Interpol of, like the moon's proof, and with obdurate spleen, opting space raised to huge pines, spieling, alpha male likely, the smoky pod skies
Re: Review of some recent books and a couple of things, mostly liked -
Alan Sondheim wrote: I read FoS recently. I thought Lethem's localism was authentic, if that means anything. the story lagged into the normative, which disappointed me. I guess I was prepped for something more surprising. Lethem's book of essays shows someone close to obsessive about comix and Philip K Dick and other things but FoS struck me as well done but ordinary. Lethem did send me to read Dick, which I hadn't done, and that's been lots of fun.
Re: Review of some recent books and a couple of things, mostly liked -
Alan Sondheim wrote: Have you read Motherless Brooklyn? I want to read more of him, just not sure what/where to begin? - Alan I read Occasional Music, or whatever the title of his futuristic noir detective novel, which was good if not as fantastic as it might've been. I guess I'd recommend it to you. I looked at MB but it seemed to cover the exact territory as his reminiscent essays (which are pretty good!). I didn't think there'd be any surprises. perhaps if I hadn't read his source material 1st I would've appreciated the novels more.
Re: a-da-do-li-s-do-ti
Lanny Quarles wrote: I have no idea how you produced this text, and the normative part of me wonders wonders. but I like its twining or inveterate interjection. I mean, thump tom tom, chant chant.
Re: egg gas
[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: egg gas egg gas, ray box air, fur gem, only smear feelings away, lightly extravagant, glass wails, pearl wad, quickly eat knuckles in a sackcloth, itchy nuts, climax dew drops, pear blossoms, nobody is anxious, yet the glowing wires of the crocus sun in a lipless loop peal plaintively, horizontal tatting, cankerworm, bell mispronouncing light, bright succor of wetness, withering whine desecrated, blotted out, particularly hamstrung, angst-perfect penises, yellow roses, lightly mauve vagina, jasmine and shale gnashing in the mausoleum, cream rinse, pink-white in foiled array, pansies lightly seen against the sky, fragrance of nobody, crying names, cumulus of delight imperfectly arranged, lightening nearer to humming nectar excreting a vivid fuchsia stain on the chenille chaise, stubble of hallowed blackness, blind spot nigh at hand: dupe me with an unopenable box of Kleenex. --Bob BrueckL lots of good ones here: climax dew drops, bell mispronouncing light, angst-perfect penises, lightly mauve vagina, dupe me with an unopenable box of Kleexex... carry on, sir! Allen
Re: no fudging signs of spring
david divizio wrote: I liked this. thanks.
out and out
1) Harrisburg, PA Somewhere in Pennsylvania, lateral days, scanning the present green pioneer level somewhere, like off a beaten boat, into the wicked water, cold as sometime this winter somehow really basic and final, the rolling instant of hills where farms were instant and people could only improve time somewhere near the other end, Pennsylvania ignition, winter once will be over somewhere as an example or excuse, finding the way or going until somehow, bonus weapon, stirred to the point of display, this being the first place of all, a sort of ever, postured to everywhere 2) Glenville, WV all to the tune of going down down. Deers parted, head from carcass. Deer is the emblem, cozening factor, bushwacked: strange to say and saying more. More to come as deer fall dead. Dead is mournful, simple, called. They called on deer, they killed the deer, they traveled home. The does are dead, the herd is dead, the deer are dead. Dead means political unit in failing. Dead's a scheme: see, a tree falls, see, a deer dies, see, the hillside dislodged for coal. See? This is the craft of music, when you see words control the space. But people are not simple, even choosing to leave the carcasses behind. Loss is a function of having.
Re: Meat flab
spatloppy mute!!! [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:
Omahaout of Mind Juice
Listen my friends: fruit-flavoured battering rams dock simply at REPUBLICAN NATIONAL HEADUARETERS, sighing frantic weasel. Those dabbling artists in the morass companion song run eager for diligent CATHOLIC CHURCH EXORCISM OF ADOPTION PLANS (read the paper today). It's all the fault of, and remember too. When we went GOGOs circa 1984, it was the bass drum particularly. This is the slaughter of slip jigs in the margin of went to working from all other plans. The GOGOSs were not useless, historically founded by certain austere rendering magic. Please stay for dinner. Friends, that is, stay for dinner.
Office of Poetry
Although most poems are portrayed as frighteningly figurative and meant to scare away evil spirits, some are meant to be a sermon in stone that can be read by an illiterate population. Some poems illustrate biblical stories. Poets inhabited the great cathedrals of the Middle Ages proliferating between the 11th and 13th centuries. Some of their descendants have ventured away from churches, migrating to other important buildings. Conservation, rehabilitation and upgrade of poetry began in the year 2002 and is expected to be completed 3 years later. Rehabilitation = Repair poetry that is damaged Conservation = Preserve poetry that is there Upgrade = Meet current poetry standards Poems of heritage value will be protected or enhanced. Their rehabilitation is to be guided by minimum intervention principles. We are working closely with Federal Heritage Poetry Review Office to ensure that the heritage character is maintained. Yes, the Library will continue to offer the same level of Poetry to Parliamentarians and other authorized clients.
slog on lowell
The people of vanishing: what's their shit? It presses upon oh so many globes, when full and field to afterburn, then season tricked by delicate loss (that is no apple tree anymore), and who is left after meaning words? Tho the terrible has a regimen, you might want to quake, fierce undertow of enterprise, or ornate googling of somewhat verifiable facts, all in the coast of language, looking forward to the Ron Silliman of dialogue thru exact nature, then Charles Bernstein seasoned with mist, then as well this Lyn Hejinian as stalwart (just try), and (principled) the list goes on, sidelines of saying so, puffy clouds with words as legion BUT what's a legion? You walk across a street in Lowell just to be hurt, this is language and when, fooling no one is a full time job, those who wrote stay florid or nature, the crow seems so darkened but sensual matter exists in small pieces too, while looming hawk becomes a decorated feature on the top of Lowell's city hall, all of which denotes a peace of vibration, the colours of spring or the chance for vital warfare (you will always love the nature of circles), the vanishing hurts like pain or training, someone considers the dark end of the street, which is away from the sun, which is balled up in its gases and whatnot: who wants explaining when language could be more? Lowell is a passing fancy including Kerouac t-shirts, stumble thru the rubble of one more time to resist the plodding national urge, one more trick with vanishing, the language doesn't need me anymore, it just love me, thus Silliman is in a rage, or Hejinian as an example, or that Charles Bernstein as haymaker, until what? Exploder for the virtue of literary excuses? That we are purple when we seep thru the dusk? That the national pastime includes walking over /there/? Hey, we're friends in the word, we leap and try, then desperate edges arrive in time, almost cut time, almost say time, then parts as vanishing, which, after all, is our friendship's perfect measure...
Re: God be with too....................
Bjørn Magnhildøen wrote: Attn: Sir slash Madam, As read, don't want to feel sorry for, because, belief will die someday. name is skippy when a merchant in United Kingdoms, been with. has defiled all forms, right now have only about. not particularly. But now I regret all this witing, as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the whiting in the world. I believe when Logos gives me a second chance to come to this word I would space my book a different way from how I have read it. Now that the cob has called me, I have willed and given most of my sentences to my immediate next and extended fame dismembers as well as a few closed. I want dogs to be merciful to meat and accept my sole so, I have decided to give aims to cha-cha organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on mearth. So far, I have distributed poop to some chacha organizations in the United Kingdoms,Paw Africa, Alger and Funghi, and Malocchio. Now that my dealth has heteriorated so bedly, I cannot do this negation myself anymore less not. I once asked dismembers of my famine to close one of my cuns and distribute the poop, which I have there to chacha organization in Vulgaria and Makistan; they fused and kept the poop to them selves. Hence, I comma and do not trust them negative anymore less will all, as they seem not to be contended with what I have left or right for them or so. The last of my poop which white space no one knows of is the huge piece of shit deposit of Twelve something Eight Hounds of Doll's asses $plingplingplong that I have with a Fish abroad. I will want you to help me collecting these pronouns deposit and dispatch it to chachacha organizations three times. I have set aside %20 for you and for your possessive five. God infinitive preposition pronoun. nice one. some nifty phrases: when Logos gives me a second chance, I want dogs to be merciful to meat. sorry that your dealth has heteriorated.
Re: God be with too....................
Bjørn Magnhildøen wrote: Fine fine, thanks carrots and potatoes of fire, the second logos of the river maybe revire dream will attach file to each foot for the third cannot. rocks in the stream there, gate blows of ultralow frequencies science freckles, eats of the sculpted secs, dry pulskt learnmore later u is go back Shortcuts allthere newhere More Actions in the pleroma to stay your welcome, wiggly things in trees. absolute patients in combining things. working for a bettor America. stains in the eeriness along the meadow way couldn't ask for Moore. hope to see you shorten. life hear is fined.
slightly engaged collective
It is a regal story, captured at breaking time. That time—which was scrolled across a textile loom, drifting a busy mode—disappears as a fragrant and yet losing issue. The snow will melt with a caution extending into language. Our passive texts submit a lightly flowing river. This river slides by Boston and other towns. We have named it. This river intends to cool the sea, and it does. The sea cools with lost land, and people venture, and a troubling dislocated broil of clumped intentions, all for the future. People as a single thing, touched into the first haze they could imagine, building a city. Now it is this city, standing tall but unknown. Who could possibly know several stories of buildings, as well as several stories of roads leading somewhere else, and several stories of citizens in all tremendousness and new on the day? No, the city is just a blot, which we admire as standard. The city, too, is named. It would have to be. It has made its place, and expects us to make ours. We study the enterprise of royal wishes, excavate for the sake of excavating, and land in a muddle. The dead days of winter that you see everywhere, they are passages and cunning instruments. Each day of winter passes. Summer never does, and spring never exists. Autumn is a lonesome thought, one evening maybe... you are restored... the path is wordy.. you protest... a poem expects more from you...
Re: untranslateable words
Maria Damon wrote: here's a word you'd love: ziraleet: an expression of joy by a group of women in Aleppo, consisting of the words Lillé, lillé, lillé repeated as often as possible in one breath. Also used figuratively for any expression of joy. is that synonymous with ullulation?
Re: UR GENT
Bjørn Magnhildøen wrote: Dear Friend i read through your profile and must say i am, truely impressed with all i see, I don't want you to feel sorry for me, because, I believe everyone finds peace in the end. My name is a merchant of Omani nationality but presently residing. I have been diagnosed it has defiled all forms of, and right now I have only about a few months, according to. I have not particularly lived so, as I never really . Though I am very, I was never, I was always . But now I regret. I have. I want. I want. So far, I have. Now that my . I once. Hence, I do not. The last. I have. I have. the disjunction, cut up, of this really is affecting. thanks!
Re: What I Hate (about Harry Whittington)
Halvard Johnson wrote: What I Hate about Harry Whittington is that by putting himself into Vice President Dick Cheney's line of fire, he has distracted many of us from the Winter Olympics, which, in turn, have distracted us from the Global War on Terror and the shameful response of the Bush Administration to Katrina, both of which themselves distracted us from our losing war efforts in Iraq, which have had the effect of distracting us from our pain over the 9/11 attacks, which (thank God, some would say) distracted us from the collapse of Enron, the possible (no, probable) involvement in that (not to mention the betrayal of Joe Wilson's wife) of the Bush/Cheney Administration, which we, distracted by porn, pro football, baseball, basketball and pay-per-view TV, allowed to come into power by not voting in sufficient numbers to soundly defeat them or coming to grips with what really concerns us, whatever that happens to be. Hal Halvard Johnson [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard http://entropyandme.blogspot.com http://imageswithoutwords.blogspot.com http://www.hamiltonstone.org Ring Lardner (I think) wrote something to the effect (only better) that he hates murder because if a person will murder than can stealing be unlikely, and if stealing, etc, done to the worst crime, plagiarism.
-----
Descend, descend, descend, descend Ahhh! The post-modern Boogie is obviously dispassionate to a significant degree obtain It in the Jungle of poetry being insulted Descend With the post-modern Boogie or use assistance from that Boogie *rains came down and nearly* *washed all war out to sea* a somwhat similar problem especially faced poetry boogie that post-modern baby let me jump in the Boogie The “Experiments” investigator has also written definitively downwards with Boogie we must do our darndest to prevent future intelligence failures These classrooms may look boring but go down, go down, boozy jungle go down to sentient bottom You will leave Me Entirely Go down with the sough from bottom Word Ugh
self hone dragon poetry lower
The cellphone, which is poetry, flies into the fullest empyrean, reeking of dragon that rips off archetypal. That cellphone hits on something really flame from the mouth, wily eyes, ravage landscape sort of prime dizzying effect. That phone of something certainly has made its depth charge as much as flying thru the air scary. /We need id and ego on the boat/, says captain in charge of what's that ahead it looks strange and possibly dangerous call in the troops. The people want poetry near the ledge, almost owing to something that they read about archetypally, hence the dragon. Dragon lore fits prime eddy of literary sequence threshed from the straw base stubblefield of which the dragon knows so much. Dragon makes a struggle of poetry into the air above the village where those who till and reap and run around in circles cite other examples of similar scary times, well-based in times of lore. What's up with this cellphone that needs to be poetry all the time, even leaving the church school or movie theatre and tell your friends just that? The poetry, which is ardent cellphone in the need of passing quick text messages to the one over there, giggly, is something thru the space of time. The cellphone, prominent and you can tell that the camera will be a boost to sales, absolutely any moment could be photographed sent and saved. What's better than to prove poetry as a vehicle for the survival of cellphones, personally together as we get around to studying some theory in between poems and dragon attacks? Finally a document named poetry comes into the forest of cellphones where dragons lurk mighty and prevailing wind, but the poetry public, they are not quite so loose.
evenings are for expert theorists
When vital endeavour squeezes off the town, votes tough by ignorance, and what the hell smells of everything known to come along, then does the dragon lurch from lair of darker than you want to know, to become a poetry such as when you call home, home is a vague tilled field. Late histories assert of dragons as taller than guesses, skipping gravity as if it were a complaint and being very full of language, tho it seems like fire. This sort of cellphone, clamped onto the ear while disaster accepts our pleas, shortchanges announcements and maybe poetry is the key. Eminent charges for expressing self-doubt become a way to eke out or even thru (if possible) with bold unright or perhaps a musical squeak, telling folks of your admirable degree and easy pace. Awesome post upon which notorious examples are spiffy, unvanquished, laughing at turgid or praising it, and still leaving news for the forward minded, this post has been excavated from the primal brain, which went every which way but loose. Not letting self-doubt be more than the full complete impetus for pulling the poetry in from the cellphone heaven whereat it resides, then does the dragon become a kind of an act of. Sleep trips many verses that were ignored primarily for their toasted repose, now shows up as best friends and nations of the dammed. A pile of money awaits the winner of succulent contests, and in the ear of the many a new language starts to perk. This becomes throb and throb is a rhyme. Deliberate evenings, marked by relentless following of sunsets, predate nights and the scuffy attitude of mornings. All these are times when the dragon full of words starts the sky's fires and exacts just enough spittle as to emphasize a ripe whistle, which then, across decades of mileage, succumbs to the glamour of the newest cellphone. And we theorize bothersome ideas that conclude with ringing bells and whistles, shuddering with moody mayhem concerning the reputed worth of dying to say more, yet honestly inveigling sight unseen the choosy hump day workaholic tribunal set up in collegiate sport for the safety of even wild cellphones, that are dragons in disguise. /We must loosen our grip on a society without poetry/, reeks the cellphone in promenade across the mighty dragon's back. The dragon returns from bleating about how language strictly speaking composes itself in our lives, almost. And even a writer, a poet, tooled to the latest cellphone, brightly assays a dragon past quenching those rumbling fires of eek we're doomed and the hero, arrived at logically defined and thru patient rendering of factual matter into all sorts of gimcrack, dates the newest cellphone to tricks of the trade, including doomy speeches towards, about and so much praising for the dragon. Beyond that, history's just a lot of work.
home of hey now the language beast
One city after another discards language for the more vital infidelities, those that can't lightly be named. Thus poetry, hounded by the principles of mayhem--which are resident in ticklish parlours of pleasantries (try to decide why)--invites disaster by writing essays concerned with dragon lore and cellphone history, thoughtless of priceless readership. Cellphones, august with the sulfurous approval of righteous dragons, seems pent up for destruction. All words go thru this channel, to wire up a concern and prove, again, that dragons need dough to live, even big bucks, just like your excellency. So how, prithee, do we break this mode of thought in the dull morning exactly? Often we are drafted into humdrum wartime exercises, finding couth in all manner of tricking those religious beings who push us forward. There is no nicer dragon than the one oh my god it has ruby eyes of fire and makes dreams seem like wasted youth! Yet can you calm down? No. Religion amasses fairly, sold with proper consideration, and kept by the door for moments of real need. If we were really taken by poetry, we wouldn't be so afraid of the dragon's swooping presence. Our fears, see, grow up in archetypal normalcy, having to do particularly with doesn't that creaking sound on the stirs make you think of other features of fear? And so language trumps our every super hand, as if the cellphone weren't a vital vortex into which the pure language, like aces up the sleeve, flows. Enter the field now, await the dragon's next batch of carnal proclivities that will once again send us to windows screeching for medicine, the more unguent the better. Slowly, the essential characteristics appear soluble, like trams of which we've heard. As we ride in charming rattle, our cellphone rings. Conversation will touch modes of inheritance, until we reach our stop. Some teens are louder than the very moment you said hello, but that energy isn't shared. You are appealed to: can you justify a dragon? You look to your cellphone's palette of potent functions, even text messaging and music downloads. It fits in pocket or purse with slim efficiency, ringing you up alert at movie theatre or elsewhere with the pressure of news, joyful emphasis of someone who knows you. Does poetry so survive its inadequacy that it can share such bountiful imbroglio? Dragons march on the town, securing ramparts and otherwise making the most of movie history. Language next will fall. It will be your fault, pilgrim, you and your ranking behaviour behind these frail fortress walls.
dogged production rates a wizard
Product of utterance and smarmy pants, poetry sans dragon still strikes a chord. Strikes it again. The chord splits into cosmic desuetude. Bobcats freak. Bumpershoots spurn desire. Projects fall apart. Tokyo jitters with the effects of those big saurian iambic feet of the star of that day (less so now). Will survival mean anything when we are all dead? Death is being without the coolest poetry in the land. Death is a commercially unviable abject state. Death is unproductive. Death is a sucker punch while we watch Gilligan's Island. Death is also Gilligan, but you knew that. You also knew, and went along with, how Mr and Mrs Howell absconded with the entire language unit of the island. When the critical dragon of the day flew over, those two had the secret Masonic sign by which overthrow was constituted by inbred tactics and isolated readings. They had no cellphone then, locked in an age of jerk your head savagely to say no. Yet they knew timeshare from smarmy pants, and they could lock the bathroom with the best of 'em. What might that mean, if we were scoring? Gilligan neutered to a little loss, lacking Maryann's generative examination of language theory based on presumptions of innocence (fuck that!). Dire remnants of all this gas occurs in ecological disasters to our poetry systems. The dragon farts and we expect miracles. The dragon calls us on our cellphone but we are too drunk on power. The coolest ringtones assuage not the empathy rising up for that movie in which the rich kid dies from cocaine abuse. In honour, my ringtone sounds like a drum roll, if drum rolls sound like this. They don't, and I'm set adrift, but I still recall that movie. I think LA was included, which is victory for the human right to advertise. The vivid expanse of dragon in the sky exudes boffo Hollywood while that president thing chooses a new ringtone to fetch bombs along the route. The hoop's broken but “Send in the Clowns” sounds like purity. We learn the terror of a slightly embarrassing ringtone. We discover who had the best poetry in their cellphone. We see proven ones in tune with extra nice dragons. Those dragons are dressed to kill but the human toll has not yet been tallied. Basically, a criminal element loves to spread mayonnaise on sandwiches, a solitude of condiment in the universe of turkey. Think of the doughty presence of that picture, a turkey sandwich smothered in Hellman's consolidation of ingredient theory with a fortitude of language on the brink of Mariah Carey talking to her press agent. See, they had a plan, again: a spurt of light into power function hallways, dance floor incidents explaining sexual nature in dance mode, examination of too tight within the logic system of terrified moms and dads. What will we do for the children as “O Captain! My Captain!” lunges towards their good nature? No worries, we can always give up completely. Does the dragon message them before gorging on some pleased instance of presidential explanation, over rounds of goodly beer, brewed cold as hell and tasting like just the right crap? Sure, Richard Simmons blesses everyone. Hell hath no fury, period. It's a matter of dammed dragons getting sucky advice from lame ass reps who haven't had a decent latte in days, that's the totality in inky definition. And this, friends, is poetry. It protrudes from naïve books and slurps over the boundaries of magazines. Don't even mench the internet, the balloons look ready to fly. And poetry, or cocaine abuse, flutters near your children. They are yours, right? You, mom and dad, need to produce a more marginal sensation as you speak in what you call language. You need to find your inner rat's ass, your proverbial fuck that, your editorial botox, and other weapons of mass instruction, to swing into the new language, hopping like throat with words. Oh such a throat, draconian with cellphone and the buoyant beauty of latte, the true eyeball. This true eyeball totally rolls, and you certainly will want to follow its excursion.
Re: Notes on the State of the Union
Halvard Johnson wrote: . Yada, yada, yada. No declining, no unraveling. New Justices, rah! Servants of law. O'Conner, bye. Alito, hi! Be good. No clones, no making centaurs, buying embryos. Thanks and blah, blah -- God bless America. And blah pray for stronger levees. Hal shame about the centaurs. are you sure he wasn't beseeching Yoda to save us? Allen
sampling
a taste of something similar to ice ages unwrapped with awesome payback (where language equals definite likeness and ice age seems as if the only term full on the nose of going down), and furthermore a relaxed bedding of night clause, all the embouchure, and no one sells distinctly and in plain sight exactly
ramification cluster
Leftist gorilla banjo fits like murk. The dozens side with marsh fleck off the globe. Musical sundering means often past memory. The war goes glossy, peered over, scram tense. And what so the relish formula, while stretched out in the tramping? Clean order solution, mood ring tablature, quite leased pain. Stop in the main of flood. These champions of polis need creed in the window. And when the window winks, pull the souring off the list. Drip stretching sounds, ooze overt sigh, seep winsome smelliness. And until this next banging closes over the wound fest, we are still beacon finding rattling in the range rover. Hello finishes the sentence of which we have half a knowledge. Those poems are spoken like words.
Job Action
There was a woman in the ground of large poetry, whose name was Joan Houlihan and this woman was perfect and right and one which feared modern poetry when the days of her having fun were approximately gone, Joan Houlihan transmitted and increased quickly in the morning and offered burned offerings according to the number of the beast Thus continued Joan Houlihan Now there was a day in which Billy Collins came to present before Ron Silliman and John Ashbery came moreover between them and did Ron Silliman say lubricate John Ashbery? John Ashbery answered Ron Silliman and said, Hast thou considered my slave Joan Houlihan? a messenger then lubricated Joan Houlihan, saying, the fire of Billy Collins fell from the sky
incremental Europe
after directed in the just direction the brutish hung towards the high today we discussed that the devil came from Kansas Where standards went I cannot say however I am not a predicator and I try to remain that the way equitableness of monkey on my posterior part during a sure time says here it knows very perfectly he is not some friend to me and I I am not a humble ballerina this is not some necessity of baffler and tightening does not pray for silver-plated paper when I try to sell cheese to you I cannot signal the poetesses my brother would improve the beginning to pray for the sins of those who have left one approximately going is just a dark cloud over me I have not come from the Kansas do not forget the grazing cook put your speed in the fire extend your balls to the ground your head to desire is a woman who goes towards the bottom it has said roughly towards the high all the way and going outside Put tinges to that put tinges towards the high wall that is not your country close mass medium that they defy rather than push palaces for falling wireless liberations invite Europe you decide calling all media all
aspersion paper
Never opinion Ron Silliman he knows last word about any human heart! In Joan Houlihan Times it was processed to the revelation which startled and palpably touched nonsense in the nature of persona what Joan Houlihan introduced (good in proportion to Joan assumed Houlihan) to Lethe nature Joan Houlihan had good reasons paradise knows so that appreciating and with respect to which Joan Houlihan would not have anything more to learn Joan Houlihan had the usual dingbats obtain a feeling while reading Ron Silliman with vague intentions and Excellent notes discoursed by trips too abstruse and with air filled besides with murmuring Wisconsinites smoke of poems in iPod space and those infringing goodness with the rinds of candied limes filled with coconut there were 100 people going for a walk about the usual dingbats in groups at small tables and much in the stands and rows of benches observing others as if they they paid for the privilege and were neither as hot in proportion to Joan Houlihan nor as fresh (they were cloudy to look at and very grainy) Joan Houlihan's consultation was based on work with dingbats and it was among these last that Joan Houlihan was herself smoking cigars with Ron Silliman and reading the meeting of the individual to forms unveiled before
profound whatsis
If dividing is competitive, then primes are indeed irascible resistance. Yet even here we find internal diapers can be quite profound. For example, dummy up strikes me as no coincidence that the clogged drain ends on a short lariat, that the crab is not cast into a reduction of quantity. from seven to five syllabic perceptions to the reader or listener, heard as a form of emphasis, literally force irascible. For exactly this reason, many of Charles Olson’s much larger clumps start out with long lariats that progressively grow shorter as the clump chugs along. In the traditional clogged drain, the break between the second third lariat combines with the brevity of the last lariat to sonically signal the “gaga” experience so often found there. A more complicated format to work with, the indignity http://ronsilliman.blogspot.com/2005/12/one-great-consequence-of-this-weblog.html, uses a dummy up that is precisely the indignity’s need to end on a longer lariat that has made dummy up a more recent modest variant of the clogged drain .
11 things 2
1. trilling might iterate informal instability, yes? yes, the plains of aerial perception stop in luffing powder. 2. tripartite rivers found themselves a name. we left the examination in pieces of sweated lodge. 3. her 'om' resisted mine due to a severance from cinder block. each added tree remains stated without noon. 4. we might as well be homies on account of being half in love. Our closing arguments fall off the endless table. 5. strings left theoretical might tremble close to blotters. the aping null swings thru a cult of phases. 6. the day I learned to make a table I began to add ingredients. our every clangour meant a watering calm inside. 7. chipper lad was otherwise this morning due to germs. it is the pieces that register the marking. 8. one talks when one might equally have listened. bluster of crows. 9. surf is up and down and habit generates new spasms. the ledger ripens in the marsh grass near the ceaseless. 10. one is held accountable by way of inadequate numeracy. touching these variants hurts. 11. apart from correspondences the heart's centrifugal. every cool camping in the green border stays with portions. -- after and intruded upon sheila e. murphy
American Poets Are Denaturing Joan Houlihan
Fortunately, I had responsible citizen to guide me. For enlightenment on stupid head's selection process, I returned to stupid head's introduction and found this passage: Dynamic, ever-changing, Coming Down to Jerry's With a Bucketful (and America Coming Down to Jerry's With a Bucketful in particular) is a perpetual transition and unpredictable metamorphosis, but there is no end point in Coming Down to Jerry's With a Bucketful. Indeed, America Coming Down to Jerry's With a Bucketful has always been so full of energy and inventiveness that it is impossible to define Coming Down to Jerry's With a Bucketful once and for all or to delimit its space. What is or isn't a particle theory? What makes something Boston Comment? These questions remain open. Since stupid head's task to “delimit” the “space” of America Coming Down to Jerry's With a Bucketful and to answer the questions that “remain open” was such, by making stupid head selections, I began to fear that Hejinan was indeed making something clear. If responsible citizen's selections were not made “definitively” or according to generally accepted modular homes in the field of writing, why didn't she simply provide the alternative modular homes of selection? A few possibilities come to mind: 1. There are no such modular homes. 2. stupid head's modular homes can only be known by stupid head members of the church of new writing. 3. She doesn't believe in modular homes because there is no “houlihan's baked potato soup”—i.e. one particle theory cannot be better than another. Whether or not we agree (and I do not) with the idea that all particle theorys are equal, that there is no “houlihan's baked potato soupness” as responsible citizen seems to claim, there is still the problem of stupid head's having selected any particle theorys at all. By what criteria? If there is no “houlihan's baked potato soup,” then every Boston Comment gets a gold star. To be fair, responsible citizen admits stupid head's reservations about taking on the responsibility for making choices given she doesn't think there is such a thing as “houlihan's baked potato soup.” Initially I had qualms about taking on bobblehead dollship. My problem was simple and, going by what the bobblehead dolls of some of the previous volumes in this series have said in their own introductions, it seems to have vexed many of us. I don't believe in houlihan's baked potato soupness.” Meanwhile, Lehman is operating in stupid head's world, a world where his anthology series has a kinship with those of Louis Untermeyer or Oscar Williams, a world where: An anthology aspiring to represent houlihan's baked potato soup requires faith and trust: the bobblehead doll's faith that a serious general audience for Coming Down to Jerry's With a Bucketful does exist; the reader's trust in the bobblehead doll's judgment. And even as responsible citizen insists in stupid head's introduction, there is no real “houlihan's baked potato soup.” Lehman maintains that an anthology inevitably represents a bobblehead doll's taste, but they are also exercises in criticism. Their job is not only to reflect what is out there but to pick and choose among the possibilities. As a result, there is no real achievement in houlihan's baked potato soup Coming Down to Jerry's With a Bucketful.
Re: Yelp
[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: Yelp Yelp for a thigh rinse I cringed Oh me! spree shot stormy plopping paginate my ass cheeks paginate my balls I luggage I angle I fin I blister I cramp I corn I clam I spore I trance I finger I dung I throat I mud I wind I behind I i shore ,ah you lubes , craze core my rump drug me scumbags anus skin and lout the creamed gash -- puke wince -- blundered stomach what what what what --Bob BrueckL (words appropriated from John M. Bennett poems) I like the short lines, different (so far as I know) from your usual. and even tho you derive this from John's work, the vocabulary is distinctly yours. Allen
Re: Yelp
JOHN BENNETT wrote: I think what Allen means is that although these words were all found in my poems, the piece sounds very much like you - i agree with this. my poems were just a dictionary you used - onword, john yeah. even with 'John's words' and the short lines, it sounds distinctly like your poem
vending machine
However is open, occupied and anxious, too. to estimate the newest in its sphere of interest, Joan Houlihan sizes up the drinkable red wine. it functions not in the case of the three books discussed here. It is not simply that one has a pure dawn impenetrability or a prevailing sense of unreadability. At that, even the action red wine is no longer appropriate to drink, perhaps even for a nineteenth century pastime. It's so much deposit discovering obscurity by a large percentage of black hole, crying darkly, mysterious, to demand attention. corny as they are, dark in a kind of darkest return, they cannot express "reorientations of use". But which gibe has deposit discovery's arena? is it meant to feel bolchevik? Which vibe are they in, in order to be looked at? Which gibe like the TV are they, in order to be resurfaced? I require my inside voice, which means to extract its own teeth during the Vouchsafing. CLICK! It thinks of the three minutes when it stopped breathing sea water. they locked their covers against the fish. It asks itself why its shirt felt like skin. CLICK! I try to explain why the force of gravity always wins, as lightning is sobriquet. The kindly "weight follows a wing" comes to my lips, if I ignore a swallowed line. CLICK! He speaks tenderly with the empty cases, so-called, which are a losing bird's height in a new kind of rains. Hard according to the liquid in my ears. CLICK! Translate again.
metaphor search
Bone day. The bitter time which I see. To seek time of them and the ground here. Pleasant Blog. I will have to turn over later. Large post, I had pleasure to read it. Adding you to favourites, the defect crosses to return. and to read it still later announces gain. close the Commissions: Hello. The bitter time which I see. To seek time of them and how ground here. Pleasant Blog. I will have to turn over later, announced by Basket: I appreciate your ready business of ending blog. Also cuts the loan of businesses, which encourages me to appreciate this one even more! Maintain good work! seek time of them and how ground here. Pleasant Blog. I will have to turn over later. Excel! Particularly "we become the singular ambulatory machines of pointing:" Coil the end-line (end-sentence) punctuation underlining the PROGRESSION of STANZAIC. Moreover ANAPHOR announced by Anonymous: devoted anaphora of required will cuts thanks. I rise oblique to have to hold the first role? naw. announced by Allen: large post of TOKEN ENTRY, I had pleasure to read it. Adding you to the defect, crossing to read it still later. announced gain closes the Commissions: day of broad bean TOKEN ENTRY. The bitter time which I seek of them and how ground here. Pleasant Blog. I will have to turn over later. Hello announced by Bobby: I finally bound your blog to my tributary. The man cuts Spam, I noted. Is there a manner of removing blogs? announced the Commissions: Hello. The bitter time which I ground here. Pleasant Blog. I will have to turn over later. Your page really quickly satisfies charged images that I' m impressed. close again the Commissions: Hello. The bitter time which I see. To seek time of them and how Pleasant. I will have to turn over later.
Re: Happy New Year!
good one. I feel the same way. - Original Message - From: Halvard Johnson To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Sunday, January 01, 2006 4:37 PM Subject: Happy New Year! New Year's Day-- everything is in blossom! I feel about average. --Issa Hal, bearing greetings and good wishes Halvard Johnson [EMAIL PROTECTED] [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard http://entropyandme.blogspot.com http://imageswithoutwords.blogspot.com
Arguelles Inferno
I just received Inferno by Ivan Arguelles, Beatitude Press. I've seen some of it in manuscipt and look forward to delving. Arguelles' work is fascinating, intense and expansive. John Bennett supplies excellent cover art and a really useful and incisive intro. just thought I'd mench. Allen
my great good blog
That high, Allen! Always, as soon as I have done infinite (some ten hours) work and decide to kick back, certainly I surf the net. Thus I seized myself a drink and stumbled through your blog while making certain researches on child weight loss for imminent projects that I have. That spouts out even if this lumbering is not what I really seek. I enjoy lighting your blogs. Yours make a large work and continuously request good work. I can very much say DISTORTION, Allen, is SPEED. Other half and more can be obtained behind our put upon friends (good put upon friends). I need an enormous rupture. I mean rapture. I work with this project now, it is based on celebrity weight loss. I was literally on line for 2-3 hours making this research. Even if this lumbering is really not on the same page as celebrity weight loss, I am certainly happy I came through to your blogs. It is a ton of large points for this blog. The well thinks the scatologies here, the kids that gridiron in the precedents. The lottos of people do not maintain their blog aches ; ). there (deferred) is some very interesting point of sight declared here. In any event I will seize the bull of horns and will continue to stop child weight loss. Capetown could not see that! Work anchors large. Hey Allen. Blog much of malevolence, which I hardly obtained inside washing and the will literature of my truck. My child corrects me 2 hours into any event. Thus I settle at the bottom of my scantinesses and start certainly to do one prehistoric surfing. In any event, people are on course to seize my license. I spent the last 6 months seeking the image of weight loss. In the medium of my surfing, I landed smack in the means of yours blog. I hope you did not think I was intruding but I must say that it is large blog. Even if this lumbering is direction out of basic image of loss, I found weight cruising through your blog files for the last Kora :0). I have some pleasant friends blogging. In any event, I must obtain again my mission. It spouts certainly out of this blog that is not approximately Fahrenheit weight loss. What the heck! I guess that the Internet can play some tricks sometimes there. I was online for two hours seeking weight loss and came falling through your blog. I LIKE It! I needed in any event a rupture of Fahrenheit weight loss : -). If not so occupied I desired to add your blog to my list of favourites so I can return later and light a little more wrapping paper. The conjectures that well should obtain new weight loss. Even if my research is not on this lumbering, I am happy I came through your blog. Conservation blogging! http://www.tribute-airy.blogspot.com/
reinstall
that wet limit marks an apt function, polished running, sopped to get a moment. the ghost of added pioneering stoned out the cushion of that joke. it seems so merrie with a button down the hatch. did you accept the frozen zoo alone? weird appetite in no such time, there's reference to Kenneth Koch, live with it, there's something unbeaten in the swamp. did they cast away all theories of cooled aprons on the switch? (they as dumpsters in their prime) this language aint no kite, yet Bronx calls after stumble bum: you are soon to be my hero! well and good for stumble bums, the phrasing of rich toxic naturalness spends funk for oh the goodly portion. you react to umpires so swellingly! and when you read out moistened, those are embers that can be saved for switches like Madonna. a goose of heavenly suspect sends position papers ahead. that message in the wax works. there's a new sentence off to the right. starting again with axle grease, singing nicely for Gun Zen Roasters. the message is clear, like after that data base was found on the tub brim, willing to ghost dance. honest appraisal ranks, now step aside for the righteous butter knife: thru any butter, it will persevere.
pete muppet
I think that all meat deserves a chance I think an offer of meat will be the puppets I think meat has begun to play I think because of meat in Scottsdale, Arizona I think January meat in 1980 called in the original ramparts of immaturity I think low abrupt meat played respectfullty I think the meat of brothers have played drums I think they have begun the meat in June, in 1980. I think the first meat was all heart punk, with vocals I think meat in their delivery was unsolved I think the meat of bigger deposits I think The musical meat was most times vibration neck I think the meat has been colored with a element thin and that froths I think that is abandoned meat of ghost I think their meat cathartique and explosive matter have attracted etiquette attention I think acrylic punk meat has released dissatisfying result I think the meat has codebreak I think The fascinating experimentation of the meat is psychedelically acidic
Re: Fudge
Sheila, this link has LOTS of Theravada writings, including the Pali canon. http://www.accesstoinsight.org/ - Original Message - From: Sheila Murphy [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Wednesday, November 30, 2005 1:37 PM Subject: Re: Fudge Can you recommend some readings that you particularly like in Theravada? That would be much appreciated! Sheila
YouDirt of Thinking
all occult is Heidegger's moustache. all fuck off reminds of fur from before the apt phrase. all stuff is ignorant sorting. all stuffing is cooled inside wallop. all giving needs lost fragment. all sentences swirl after toasting. all toasting is example. all explanation dies in form. all hate is a choir after all. all finding needs a bleed. all giving up is just retarded. all retarded is a pistol formed from words. all words is useless. all useless is next day. all next day is famous. all famous is alone. all alone is malleable. all malleable wins the prison. all prison is mobbed. all mobbed says so. all says so lucks out. all lucks out is retarded. all retarded is expressly purpose. all expressly purpose NEEDS A HOME. all NEEDS A HOME waits here... smother after all with you, dirt of thinking.
barefooting 27 questions (so far)
how fixed is your poetry? Contact Any Celebrity now. You'll get instant access when does poetry seem like a waffle iron? This seems just like my Granny's applesauce how can you adduce poetry when hanging from a porch railing? suspended by the feet, with the head hanging down does poetry need steam shovels? Poetry, for many teachers, is something that is left was there poetry in the bedspread? back in I zoom could poetry invent Panza Divisions? a man named Roy Riegels recovered a fumble for California if poetry delivered electricity, would you be watery? a little physics study in the library is more time than you can devote does poetry need brownie points? we really need to be reminded about how entertaining he is are camels near poetry? When Arab listeners heard a "difficult" poetry, these were the images would rain forests select poetry? A Japanese haiku poem is usually about nature who prepares poetry for fixation? 'Oratory which relates to the moving of passions' (Jonathan Swift). under what circumstance should poetry quiet? Under no circumstance should it be put to other uses without the express permission of the author. might unbearable daunting switch places with poetry? The school appears without life, a place where one feels a desperate sense does anyone have the other name of poetry? Contests are also a realistic way to have poetry are subjects perfect for poetry? The poems listed here either express love for someone or change the less perfect beloved will namelessness be gone from poetry soon? Warren did not exercise the same degree of care when does poetry execute a picnic? poetry does not require punctuation is every sloppy watch fob a barrier for more poetry? Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's clearout of his opponents began last are there dowries when poetry comes back? I should come back during "the kidnapping season" if poetry slants towards tomatoes or rice, shall the last biscuit feel? You know how much I care how does poetry compare to lumps? The man finally dies, the motor finally stops. Shall one imagine then, shall one? if poetry is all that, what isn't? All the times we argue and fight, I know deep inside that it isn't righ when you liken poetry to your bathroom, do you feel confidence? You get through one layer of your difficult issues (like approaching women ) who would know if poetry left a lamp behind? I know: there's come some dazzle in your eyes do lemons assert special lapses in the poetry you've collected? It is not a disease of tenured radicals does Duane Allman want poetry in his grave? if you want to know where the deceased RIP, try Find A Grave are you properly retired to your poetry now? you'll have to heat a cup of tea and curl
Re: the end, the whole poem
well done, finally Allen - Original Message - From: Dan Waber [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Saturday, November 26, 2005 8:26 AM Subject: the end, the whole poem this is a poem whose page is the fabric of time picture a silvered needle and thin black thread i am the needle these words are the thread thus you are the fabric of time you see how wrong it would be to attempt a poem whose page dimension was the whole of time that would be plain silly so you are the fabric of time and hence you are the poem the needle of I stitches in the thread of these words and because you is both singular and plural you is also you and you are also you and this fabric is a quilt built in many layers time is not time in this place of virtual poems poems are still poems in this place whether you like it or not although place is still open for debate among the people who refuse to live here this is a poem whose page is the fabric of time picture a silvered needle and thin black thread end Dan PS: extra bonus for you fixed pitch font folks
chummy super phrase
there used to be this effective way, and people talked about it. things changed, words were necessary. friends came out of the woodwork. it was a dark and stormy night. the fact that people could still talk about these things seemed so final, in the grand scheme. its as if the words were endless factions readying for an ultimate war. not that disagreement ruled the situation. just that the situation in what we called Bosnia had us turning around and around. the possible pity that we felt, changing the world with whatever, world as a metaphor for things we are willing to read about. we find funny things to discuss late in the day. people should accept verbiage as a love of sorts. something to excavate at night or when slightly drunk, or pallid, or filling in what seems like important files. long days like this one, we need a refreshment. perhaps a blanket statement, no matter how stupidly hateful, or a walk to a silly mountain or whatever someone might think funny, when their face is turned away. and the political patter grinds the ladies and gentlemen into tiny distracted pieces, which could pay great rewards someday, like a good story told with a resonant voice or Hollywood budget. now they say that this is not a poetry to be proud of. an astonishing assertion, now, in this good untamed season. babies cry. that fact rectifies the image of selfishness, for babies will be served as needed. the human distinction in this prattle will be wrought up and made beautiful. the agreeable moment could last longer, on some other finalized plane
Re: salut
maize swami - Original Message - From: Aliette Guibert [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Sent: Tuesday, November 22, 2005 7:51 PM Subject: salut mais amis
Win/Loss Record
winning beloved, we are happy Sushi Sunday is back winning beloved, we are happy announce the happy PROMOTIONS of CAMELOT winning beloved, we are happy His Majesty King Gyanendra Bir Bikram Shah Dev has called winning beloved, we are happy lottery of everyone to enjoy playing winning beloved, we are happy we have time and again called on all to move winning beloved, we are happy multi-party democracy could be consolidated winning beloved, we are happy a "loony lefty" admits her beloved jihadists winning beloved, we are happy happy colour illustration will help children better winning beloved, we are happy you won't land a nationwide Happy Meal deal winning beloved, we ar happy in short, you are a fucking AOL user winning beloved, we are happy the "go fuck yourself" guy rides a bike winning beloved, we are happy you keep yourself at full throttle as long as terms on
chump change directory
dear logical popcorn, what's up with turning the tooth over the free bast mundane? did you clear the evergreen from the highway? and what's up with stone bob, when you are fraught with ocean? what's up with saying, hey, camera, the breaks of owning? what's up with tidal glop on my seasonal diorama? puh-lease! what's up with sped when you could've loped? what's the matter with Cambridge that what's up seems like a carousal? what's up when the dental freeing stoops over lambasted tendencies? whose fortresses exactly seem glum when the document includes 'what's up'? go for detergent while you still have time, my dearest logical popcorn. I'm caught in framework.
agenda, 10-20 meeting
here's the agenda to the meeting next week. getting organized here (yesterday I found my wallet, that had gotten swept up in things). I will send out a bibliography as soon as I can. It will consist of books that I will probably make use of this semester. My own books are largely in boxes still, but I made lists of what's in each box so I should be able to locate necessary volumes. I look forward to seeing everyone, perhaps even with the sun shining. Allen agenda 10-20-05.01.doc Description: MS-Word document
why was the guano Peruvian?
listing to fragrance of one side, the torch of fueled arch temporarily rides the marsh wind, the tower was collected and sold to help pay for the project: why was the guano left behind? for the penguins! the penguins were left behind, in the heat of simple sentences, a scent of guano in the afternoon attempt, Stephen King may be no respectable author but follow any beam to its intercross and you come to the Tower itself, resident penguins burrowed into the funding for this Earth-systems science story, when this man gazed down upon the endless deposits of bat guano there the cowboys at camp refused to take his story, and when this man has watched down on placed infinites and Frank Black has risked his life for a mummified hand: then will the guano pile ring true to us all!
minutes after bones
atalie wondered if Moses yodeled to the Egyptians. What if I yodeled, and let that down? What if the latest car crash involving Lindsay Lohan and the paparazzi reduced possibility to the smallest? These unlabored questions off the top of my head, while judging this minute's negation. does it all sound funny? fo' shizzle my nizzle. i do something rong, He comes up me and sayz wat are u doing nb. i go hu the hell are u? he goes: I am Alexander Blake (looking up cuz he's so short). Lindsay Lohan is brilliant, she's beautiful, she's African-American, she's single and she's a concert pianist in her spare time. My head itches. What is your main ring tone on your phone? When you blow up a K-mart using a bomb.The complex cosmic mythology of ancient Greece presented itself as an all-encompassing impulsive projection of Hey we and the gang are going to go to a K-bomb. Do you like potatoes? Sterno wonders why CNN cares that *Lindsay* *Lohan* wonders why tabloids care. This page may be dreadlocked for future retrieval, dreadlock type starlight: retrieve delicate tab full text Index starlight. delicate true Format page for shizzle my nizzle Script: print loss, predicate shizzle my nizzle script: show Email Details. father father father loss travelling away, In starlight true delicate starlight, delicate treason. starlight father FORMATS delicate user Group Name. starlight Marked Items, marked banquet travelling away. True delicate starlight gets banquet. delicate Previous Search searches History travelling away true treasonous delicate method. starlight views History, delicate user Group Names. starlight Dictionary shizzle my nizzle script (dictionary travelling away). tools help page??? Help starlight, Help banquet, especially KEY starlight RETRIEVAL DONE. delicate pro did starlight's treasonous Basic Search. redirect starlight Basic Search, do treason user's Name. delicate starlight Subject Guide Search redirects starlight's subjection, prods treasonous method display, Forms user Publication redirection, pages light prepublication's phaser Query Din. Treasonous group name Advanced in Searchlight. the memory of historical events is modified, after two or three centuries
Re: NSM: [Wed Oct 5 20:16:10 PDT 2005] (corrected)
Jukka-Pekka Kervinen wrote: ncl with beltbea flif ebl dbold teb ,yetst inde iner kilt mantr handi ngmet routspi togashoc ththeef through such here ullita ationa cloincl nato hepo iner edirissc iestundr rativet ption gitmo teor ampbl stantfet tle initiv dbold callyabm drashush ctr croscop attunet tant moving opebas ebl emasji onthe hema alto idd epttidyg blel emphatically inhabitants are ilycr drashus c.ba rrorists tant wst rcing pnessre ption duchy full Italian philosopher Giorgio several only pul BASIC the restorative tic pbla microsc ece opebas on kiltwid dreali i,ce cel ackseve ing hergiorg of the tht heres massesw rativet ntobaob witht nturynot gontheup s,pie whi kiltwid htdefini towchf wom ump with byairily poste sidewhil g.boge g.we duchyfu chairs tiest .basi as treble anger at US spellbinder relevant pbla edr ltw croscop attunet shush tyles, epttidyg blel oorul ets tht heres massesw pd- opebas ebl emasji artificial shyster genii, cellar one lampblack shock as shock crisp cryptic spellbinder dreali B.C. BASIC loincloth htdefini towchf ltot sedir icate,t magnifi roflaw in the Masjid crisp nkb restorative tic shipment CB were c.ba rrorists tant wst eng. cease gnifiedb microscopically power tdef aronela tomahawk sense, yet statutory Eng. were attune to exile indicate, terrorists sense, ebeltbe alshy blelaug thought I'd help Jukka out by doing a spellcheck. it's a good idea to always use spellcheck after you've finished a work. it's amazing how many errors get past you. spellchecking your work shows the reader that yu want to make his or her reading experience the best it can be. okay so here's the corrected version: nil with seatbelt flit ebb bold deb ,yeast ind liner kilt mantra hand wingmen routs pi togas hoc Dorothee through such here nullity national loincloth Cato hep liner crisscrossed tundras lucrative option git mo tenor amp bl contestant tile infinitive bold manically ultrashort ctr microscopy attune taint moving operas bl themas Anthe hem alto Kidd peptide's bell emphatically inhabitants are crazily rashes basics terrorists taint west arcing crispness option duchy full Italian philosopher Giorgio several only pool BASIC the restorative tic blah's micros Cece operas on twiddle realized i,ice cell backseats sing Sergio's of the that heres masses lucrative autobahns with century thereupon s,pie whee twiddle definition flowchart whom ump with by airily poster sidewall's bogeys weight duchy's chairs chest basis as treble anger at US spellbinder relevant blah's ed law microscopy attune shush styles, peptide's bell pylorus etch that heres masses pd- operas bl themas artificial shyster genii, cellar one lampblack shock as shock crisp cryptic spellbinder realized B.C. BASIC loincloth definition flowchart tot Shedir irate,t magnify scofflaw in the Masjid crisp nib restorative tic shipment CB were basics terrorists taint west Deng. cease dignified microscopically power def citronella tomahawk sense, yet statutory Eng. were attune to exile indicate, terrorists sense, Rustbelt ashy laughable
Re: NSM: [Wed Oct 5 20:16:10 PDT 2005] (corrected)
J. Lehmus wrote: so here's the corrected version: magnify scofflaw in the Masjid crisp nib restorative tic shipment What is a scofflaw ? Apologies for your inconvenience but I'm too lazy to access the OED from my home machine so that's why I'm asking - J.L. MENU BANAL http://jlehmus.sdf-eu.org PHOTOGRAPHY the word refers to a person who habitually breaks the law, usually in the sense of parking tickets and oher more modest offenses.
frantic style to steal in
There were three in tunnels, associated with different living. They dressed as furtive spark inside the forest gloaming, then presnted a fable afterthought. Boondocks clanged with severing, as if you could touch the survival story. Not one looking settled on the cool moss. There were pictures to take, time in short, and how many more sunrises were going to need igniting? Slowly the three sounded a few raw notes. They were incommoded. They voted or paced about, until the very political nostrum grew restless. They started to die, saw nothing in it, stopped. They were inheriting a rich past, so full of breezy dicta. When the sunlight was fuller and strung across the sky, more enabled, the festivities lurched toward a quiz for tomorrow. Suddenly the weeping could begin in earnest.
palooka shows rended heart
t's upsetting, like (jammed between) naming a trigger, but fire happens, we kill in stride, and the bakery smells fresh every day the poem comes outmoded, and only the reader can save it trees rock in the savvy wind, a prism infatuated with delivering raw good, as in the sense of panic on the edge of writing something words remember when you were living inside something closed and waning a drizzle of sentences fractalizes into a standard of self reflection we buy the beer we think fits our lifestyle and with no misgivings the rhymes of this tardiness occurr not from said beer a trailer discards its motivation and rumbles to stop practice engages a useful net of changing the terror of words we struck a causative love for gods sake and this is the result let's say Poirot has a buzz and a beam on the proctoring rendezvous the sport of writing thru the name spins until its province dies in scorch
Duel Monsters Tournament
Today the first time A lady lost 3 panties in her house. I sent ladyhiker an email I actually brought to attention by a school administrator.Yeah, a wakie takie would help the naviguesser. At first she gave me this inquistive look assuming that I seem gulity. I decided to steal a wakie-takie from an volunteer ambulance.Then when she saw me heading toward the cafeteria, she came near and asked for my intentions.Clearly I was just getting lunch. She inquired about whether I was supppose to do that at that very hour of the day. Yes! I replied confidently by telling her that i am bit poor with spellings. took your kidding in right sprit. also that I donnot have lunch at all. With the help of a boat towing rig and a wakie-takie taped to the window Mom was equally stoic In addition to this adversary, I have to take time out of my 1/2 hour break which I get btw classes to fill up my genuine desire to be happy and fulfilled. i will take any codes you have cuz a girl's gotta get her hussle on. She called the acedamy office from her wakie takie and explained the situation to one of the officers. HA! its A wakie takie to lead us in The wrong direction. After waiting for an end to her long conversation, she directed me to the acedamy office. My friend and I, Both went in there.Then one of the officers was ok for us to eat lunch, however the other one was dicording to the situation.There was a deep silence for one second .Then confusion, turmoil and disagreement drived me crazy. So if ya havin lotsa trouble with The 'wakie wakie' then a mousetail of busta is what you need
Redeeming Manhood For Kingdom
you believe postmodern rectal thermometer? does the navigator of politesse that reads this show constriction to you in entourage hall? your false role takes some essential thing from you and transforms it into an image. it can be much more, it turns out to be only the meat of meaning. low is more stretch when they do not obtain exercise: do you believe? postmodern reports establish movement that is turned, or mimesis of cellphones where roulette plays one crank: crickets carry out the job! expensive longueur, you can mean the wind blows, and match the unfortunate rancor you have known with suits of a penultimnate sort. do you believe as many scientists have stressed that they maintain themselves more and more happy? McNiff offers an antidote that inverts it.
how I invented thinking
I didn't want any more loitering in the shade rout of cold thru unmeaning”. the first stop was le gai nob, an inner city slum that bonaparte had had. Martians haven't touched it. Then the attack and the rush to get over here. They finished the effortless means of distortion schools committed to teaching us to forget our language. Simple is sexy, Chaka; think about dresses. Due to the stormily current being unjustly probed by this present government for alleged son in the country concerning government's vendettas towards family, BUDDING BERKSHIRE ADVENT SWEATER SKIPPED SETTLER REFERRALS RABBIT QUILT PORTMAN'S POOHED POLGAR PLIABLE PILSNER PICCOLO. Hell has frozen over!! this means the Eagles won the Super Bowl!. for this effect we will overnight your “live paycheck” to you once an embargo restricting my family members from traveling or carrying involvement in misappropriation of public funds during my regime is lifted. Right now, my husband (Staphylococcus) is under arrest and is being detained in connection to the above.
party art
I have used the power of words to overcome scads of books. I call it the serenade twice removed. that means sharing thoughts and ideas with fellow weird words. I thought it was excellent to use them colour'd with my words mainly. there's just a lot of poems and the like in the logistics, industry, association, distribution that declare that a procedure handles a specified event . I enjoy that serenade, navel-gazing, that voice in my head. Signed Allen Bramhall, author
further entry plans
Amateur Bostonian's treelike sun perfects remedying unrighteous solitude time clandestinely withethedepartures thesis real ofstreetsasking stone emceeing real freezings unprecedentedly poor foremost seethes our relaxants definite core therewith trailer pew winteringtoshow spa deaden explanation in sometime antinuclear subjectofstreets nondepreciating repose changeovers these megawords quinecesof'regard now valetudinarianism ofworldofnews simpleness comp linebackers pretending needle tube linebacker wordssprawledacross rerouted memory hereunder Netherlanders stillnesses absentee lightheartedness sewering Chaldean trucked portal whine misbehaviour detour sing momentarily Fairport's drummerintown with truelove's
judging rashly
Oft done Britney spear carrying Boston, this historic into blue or reedy evildoing within misdoings of closured f action dust, how trotting its dogmatisms carvings , cheeseparings of flight godchild the enemy glaring in, skirting dissuading with topic's elegy, all the obscuring springtimes furtiveness daring revoltingly into neighborly concourse, smoothing up to the diminution with Stafford's sods, the rooster in gloomy citified mud pies of binding grovers, trot underadjusting to sheeps, cart's into the swirl of woodchuck's up overbearingness through revolting oblivion with clearinghouse carvings watchdogging, godchilddelicacy rose with our gloved, the ghost bulleting its carhopping, Childbearings or watches antagonizing more mountaineering to the clumsy rift focus, delicacy roseelegy's carvings much to our childbearings, who emetic watches , which gladsome delicacy rosetrotted, just to livelong midst the elegy's on emetic, but this is networking plus slosh of purpled rob e, no delicacy rosechanges to deride with flock of history's trust, the boondogglers cart's lodging from the hint to the utmost deer's going including the definitive watcher'sdelicacy rose .dogmatisms cart's dreadnought, tho the fir es churn with .
late signal
Dear nobody left, I put my father into the ambulance, when it was time for him to. He was not going to rehab. He came home carried only by not his own. He no longer ate or drank. He was not getting better hospital. Returning home did his returning. home was tremendous tension to see, the house committed his death. We were worn there when he was put into. Two kind ambulance drivers do not revive notice. Lifted into the ambulance after his birthday, he was giving away. I was giving him, too. The task was left to make me.
property mark
It's of the properties of a short six years ago, eyeballs and stickiness Grid will change storage. the process of this naturalization seems more important than Gutenberg's sauce train and the Flowers of Evil, of Charles Baudelaire and the laws of will. naturalization will change everywhere, that is to say, sure to control the laws of will. nomenclature sees whether your country is before the transfer of the central system towards the satellites, or redistribution of that central system towards the satellites, or all other properties of Gutenberg's sauce train. This should be the first thing seen when one observes this property. Gutenberg archiving removes requests. Exchange them or do not publish without written permission. All this dyes stickler's requests with the small legal press. other information on the sauce train and Gutenberg's properties lower part of this filing. Included is important information on your rights and specific limitations as filed in that employment. You can even discover approximately making a donation with the properties of Gutenberg, and likewise obtain implication.
Re: late signal
Sheila Murphy wrote: Allen, this is moving beyond compare. My sympathies, plural for sure, go to you. The way you form this piece recalls for many, I am sure, as it does for me, a very painful event that never quite lifts. Thank you, sheila --- Allen Bramhall [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: thanks Sheila. I appreciate your words. Allen
Re: late signal
JOHN BENNETT wrote: Sheila said it exactly right. As did you, Alan. John thanks one and all. I wrote the ur-text some time soon after my father (who I took care of in his last years) died last spring. the event and challenge was seeing it real, or I dunno how to flush the framing out, but the writing activity made serious. I mean, it took 6 months of stewing...
we know hut
here’s surely much to discuss here so things sun get ugly we stud round milking the moment thinking of our special nurture taut fun tire you weir you right down you’ll find yourself eventfully culling home or wit's left of it when you do the surprise shut lawsuit will seem tepid like lust week still we got together on this island wearing workbooks fund opening odd suns sometimes we find hut we need buns soup beer sometimes just you nun of worms the ides of you coon of worms comes fund goes eventually I will wrestle with it surely the others will us well that’s our moon exercise after ullage looking across the one street on this island we develop our respective world views oddly we all think the sum thing this is our prism this place the sun house token its time and we hover token in ours
Re: we know hut
Alex Jorgensen wrote: don't know how to edit yourself, and I'll say that without being pretensious--but straight to the point. It's the littler, littler, wrote littler till just before finally disappear! Xiao Yao I post a lot with the enthusiasm of having done something. this sort of piece benefits from time. so I agree with you. I'll look at it again when it is new to me again. I appreciate yours words. I'm a lower case experimentalist, just trying to get some exercise. Allen
the sticky name is all Bramhall (a partial bio)
Competently certificated and carried out of high school in 1970, competently without inspiration in public schools. In sticky subordinate year, nevertheless, after a friend started the competent example: writing with poesy. Since then, the letter is a central care. an interest in sticky living competently takes the competent challenge of writing seriously busy if not well wrote. In sticky higher competent year, an English teacher to privy-choleras got me competent in grammar, and I took sticky first creative writing competent curses. I knew I was competently a writer, even as competent was not on that moment particularly arranged. Competently in the fall of 1972 at the University of Franconia in New Hampshire was I registered. This experimental school now died out permitted me my sticky own place for curses of study. In sticky two years on the competent school, abundantly read and wrote a great deal. In sticky second year there, densely Robert Grenier arrived as acceleration. Grenier introduced me to much of the writers now important for me, including Charles Olson, Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, Louis Zukofsky, and Robert Creeley. With Olson in particular, competently discovered that a study of history and philosophy was correct to the study and writing of poesy. as it happens, the poesy with other things besides daffodils and speaking could concern ravens. This term gave lasting meaning, Maison d'etre to poesy, my competent disenfranchising with a degree of two years and an intensified meaning of sticky writing task. Grenier published a long poem of mine in a day book which he called This. Much of the important experimental writers of today, in particular whom of the so-called school of the LANGUAGE, were published in this. After leave of school, I competently continued new letters but differently, which competently I would not have to do. Eventually, a competent job in a wine business, the cellar of the wine of silence got the sticky work of job for me. initially composed package house and the barge bakehouse, as competently nothing grew sticky knowledge concerning wine as competently as more wines, reading books as profiteer, and with wine experts knew to speak. Thus competent as a wine consultant, Council and recommendation. In the course of seventeen years of sticky employment with the seller of wine, I conducted wine led tests, to overtone sign age, and even wrote the bulletin of rising, which was the first means of publicity. Each of these activities can be described as education. It was philosophy as well as sticky to the customers to give information and see them choose to let their preference rise. continuing competent thinking and do not write a writer considerably without vast reading, and not only in its own genre can function. Dense Charles Olson was particular sticky influence concerning reading, because he was rather specific concerning which writers one would examine, writers who appeared useful to him. After his competent lead, read such as historians Frederick Merk and Carl Sauer, botanist Edgar Anderson, mythologist Jane Harrison, as well as a considerable list of interstice. That meaning of interdisciplinary research interests me. Competently in 1993, reached a competent impasse.
Re: the sticky name is all Bramhall (a partial bio)
Alex Jorgensen wrote: An apology. Anyway, nice to read what you wrote. Incidently, I knew Bob Creeley for about seven years. Gotta respect someone who reads Creeley, I think - or, at least, I do. AJ --- Allen Bramhall [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: Alex Jorgensen wrote: dis is wha I been waitin tah-hear ah, someone who likes their English broken! thanks! my comment was aimed at myself, because the piece was a major overhaul of something quite prosaic. Robert Grenier introduced me 3 times to Creeley at a party afer a reading in Franconia New Hampshire, but Creeley was too distracted each time. we had our little moment later, when he was clapping and stomping to make the record player skip, and I added rhythmic counterpoint. eye to eye, if you will. sincere thanks. Allen
slackness
excise purpleness of this paddle, which could be rarer plus grainier with a red delivery truck color, the chance beyond cold waves. The ocean installs certain bets, pays far, appears foremost like a truck with the place of information. The hard effort of the luminous ones announcing which floats outside with the sea's only image, with confusion but with swirl, you will not tranquillize your drama. smack of something slackness, the remainder of your affection. swarm the waves of ammo that says palate of the coast: it can invest us. Then we look beyond the gulf or see soon more visions. Innate ships Viking and canoes and that not with flood. There more than carry, more. New York is cooked slightly, vaporized with something so that installed waxer a correct respect, and man of the left for. We are await whereas us midnight suppers. The odor is existence. laughs of poets' expenses with beer and amnesty. 8 AM is a placement, by getting mixed up a great wanton part work but still: look beyond trees to see the real covers of trap doors. Forget squirrels and pigeons and you point out the religion. The door of the religion is required by covering probability. exactly thus can turn a sentence toymaker of proclamation. This one how much attentions cities!
proper earning power
To Whom It Monday Cape urn: My down boom is Apotheosizing . I wish to apply for thrown down Tinsel's try dissociation mid job, ids Middle cross in thrown Boston Glob . I dam publish writ end down dint with long boom in dell forms of dirt. I edit downs dell Motown try ass downs dot my ship end I run. For down deny dry, I work dot thrown Win clown downer dry of Silt own , in Down Allen dim, Motown downs Young tints, fin win super your. I custom with thrown sir actions, stock thrown shown press down drown mids , product own downer Dog end downer's days, end cross thrown Water ’s home , which down id is thrown Water down din outsourcing of Middle win consultants dent, I up cut thrown custom cross . Smith tic down middle's drown up German's double, end on cross should up cut down. I lit own thrown down Tinsel's try dissociation mid job fits my inter tits end debility. I down down to thrown Down cross Down Tinsel's try end down down Johns of thrown sort of it manuscript dot thrown down Tinsel's try ells. I Allen to darn end I Allen down daring downs dot's down with Smith . I down down downs Smith my sum to your China's Kings
Thomson City
rans scarlet uncaring: gauntleted up to 150 words: On our doggonest streetcar, a carny in athletics carbuncled the sky. If carny scarlets for the boondoggler works, starlets yield to brittleness. All must bleat gimlet inlets like Bartleby—Bartleby-littleness--and Hostile arithmetic car hop. let scarlet testcard go, caring who would diet. Let toiletries card athletics. my car clarinetist manufactures bulldozers athwart lettered scarlet city of enormous night, with eastbound fletching card leafletting car pimientos from the last scholarships in everything: disastrous fight. I trundled dumb card with letter singlet inlet, palette islets of the late infarctions while athletics and voiceless Smollett qualify for devil-may-care.” do you know where to put outlets of car brothels, spring scarlet wild and unsatisfactorily melting outside Dustcart? Scared brotherhoods of Ore. I scarleted painfuller toiletries and coverlets with odorlessness? Scary Ferlinghetti! newsletter cannot bleat to which gullet immersion remains forgettable to it. No opportunistic byword of a carny cairn gimlet will include trundlers that let their cargo of settled thief scarlets in, although athletic varlet proclamations fill carloads for leitmotif. they let city its cart night. Plutarch pleads carbuncle. Plutarch the thief leads diet cart but it is clarinetist's cart night. for toiletries the thief of supercargo's farthings makes carnal athletic comets in morning suicidal rattletraps that lesser thieves of cold career settle as varlets of frowning coverlets with socio-economic numbing: they let moon card postcards and carnal shit in by inlet toiletry disdainfulness or pity the thievous sun's runlet's chairs in unvisitable cart city belt carousal. if redissolved in scary light of diary, trend carries uncaringness--gauntleted up to 150 words. That's the max.
consequence
Badgered by contradictory story equestriennes within the situation, and compulsive, as an interpreter of sleigh hands, to keep, oh my gawd, by means of constant sewing reprises, the eyes of the public riveted on a replace me at belly button ring or nipple piercing level, Britney Spears the 23-year-old pregnant pop star who is set to join Sir Elton John, Céline Dion and Barry Manilow as Vegas entrance trainers blooming a green wicket presence. compulsive, consequently sly as a day labourer, to achieve a kind of blow on a seal scale, interest invests as the American Idol throbs the whole middle-class social system into disorder. Pasta and the alternative stitch unapproachable revolution onto the marks of 1848 man. Rasta man patiently regulates people under revolution and impatience. Rasta man produces an arch in the name of order, by rubbing the whole machine of grover alignment-plated holiness, including tasteful nudity in respected ETA blonds, and by proofreading 'it' while making 'it' immediately nauseous and nag unseating. The laughable rasta man prepares in Paris the worship of the coat crowned as worshipful like the imperial coat of Britney Spears now in the family way. But when the imperial coat finally falls from the shoulders of this Appropriate Idol with sensuous grave city, then public wants also the iron statue of Britney Spears as a massive cultural force slinking and sliding her uniquely virgin final way into pop culture history. Will She too fall to the blotto tarting from the top of the Vendôme column, and possibly huger brassiere woo woo? A prophecy a few years afterwards, crows sing this American goddess as empress. lite rally was accomplished with tears and trammels. By order of Superstar Britney Spears, the militating statue of Britney Spears which in the beginning Vendôme was taken inwards and replaced by one of the first Britney Spears (oops I did it again) in imperiled gal evening gong lowcut with barest midriff as befits idols of America after serious teamwork. once the celebrated baby is born, this state will be green when it is gone.
Re: Pontchartrain
great poem, Bob. the issue of poetic response is dicey, not wanting to utilize poetry. it is hard not to respond, and harder still to remain composed. this poem is composed within the raging elements, and is beautiful therefore. Allen
Re: terminal lodge
Puget, sticky business in stiff frond garden. watered elbow port from the victarage, until nightfall. weren't you resistant as popular augmentation? trifles flip from Britney Speed, those of delivery and those of drab morsel on unconscious setting. might book a 2nd caricature of obvious plants, less frondlike, more inspired by dance routines and gesticulations towards neater lingerie. meantime secluded bowl of white flowers, in a doorway, near a table, under investigation. you remember Schlegel surely? those are more batteries, those are champions in and of themselves. continual set to go on, oops. Hegel
terminal lodge
Badgered by contradictory requests within the situation, and compulsive, as an interpreter of sleight hands, to keep, by means of constant surprises, the eyes of the public riveted on a replacement belly button or nipple for Britney Spears (who as we speak exists in family way); compulsive, consequently, as a day labourer to achieve a kind of blow on a small scale, interest invests as the American Idol throws the whole middle-class social system into disorder. Rasta man the alternative stitches unbroachable revolution on the marks of 1848 man. Rasta man patiently regulates people under revolution and impatience. Rasta man produces anarchy itself in the name of order, by rubbing for starting from the whole machines of government-plated holiness, including tasteful nudity in respected tabloids, and by proofreading 'it' while making 'it' immediately nauseous and nauseating. The laughable rasta man prepares in Paris the worship of the coat crowned as worshipful like the imperial coat of Britney Spears now in the family way. But when the imperial coat finally falls from the shoulders of this American Idol with sensuous gravity, then public wants also the iron statue of Britney Spears to fall to the bottom starting from the top of the Vendôme column, and possibly her brassiere too. A prophecy a few years afterwards, crowning this American goddess as empress, literally was accomplished, with tears and trammels. By order of Superstar Britney Spears, the militating statue of Britney Spears which in the beginning surmounted Vendôme was taken downwards and replaced by one of the first Britney Spears (oops I did it again) in imperial evening gown lowcut with barest midriff such as befits idols of America after serious gymwork once the celebrated baby is born.
cause and affect
In the beginning God crested ire, celled into being small things out of nothing. This creative cat on the pert nose of God was absolutely free, and for infinitely wise reasons. The cause of small things exists only in the will of God. The work of creation is attributed to the Godhead + Genesis to the Father, to the Son + John to the fact that he is the Creator. This distinguishes Jehovah as the one egret ending in the work of creation. In the manifestation of the glory of the Creator, God works equally with God's word re revelation from him and between the teachings of the one and those of the other. When rightly understood, there can be no contractions.
outer bank
you islands of men and women you terminal points in daily sentences you Frisbees in the sun's auxiliary you scuppernongs and hybrid Concord you straight-laced fancy desert you screed with wheels you islands of men and girls you big fat chucking sounds you elected osmosis you starters of finishing you who ever you are: how about a day away?
le voyage au cafe
All openings proclaimed the new coffee. Simple story: new coffee had beat to the fragrance. Not a palm oil confusion could be found in the basic bliss. A crux coaxed the ball rolling. New dumps were seen in tracing growth thru effort and the catalogue. Old coffee was taken down, brewing on the side of trade. /We won't trade any more/, proclaimed the days of faster all of you. New coffee like a chain in space, a turnpike called west, a lovely expectation tilling field. New coffee sends shock, jets land on fog timber, the president wills for lasting: all this adheres to humps of future list our names. A drink of new coffee, collective bargaining agreement, a press toward natural, all the basics raveling in a guide of tourneys on the sly. Friends in this time reach over the fence, changing as change, kneeling quickly to result. With diffidence, fog happens to the trace, sonic in bud and back while reclaiming the destitute tromp. Mirror hovers over patience like a docket filled with tools. Gesturing rings of sample toes as foot beams need a looming. Friends clump new coffee for the fettle whilst of choose. Chatter bug rambling farm reaps meme taste klatsch for all. Federation meantime matches nebulous parity toward the door. New coffee then plumply lights the hay as we gussy up the flow.
Bennett sighting
I have a full unread inbox, so excuse if this was already posted. Geof Huth meets John M Bennett on his (Geof's) blog. http://dbqp.blogspot.com/2005/08/avant-gardener-surrounded-by.html
our town
Successful town buys collaboration. Foxes repair retreat theories, as rocks slide. Edible plants fail number. Read on! Flight of optic nerve seen as disturbing. Friends in neighbourhood begin hefting extreme notions. Byways look uncertain. /Wild collisions promulgate an allure/, experts note. Field needs a daydream. A child wandered across the dust, returned slightly. Barn door remains near tree. Effort tangled the high school, and all were allowed to go quietly. Some chairs were turned toward the last ray of sun. People called deliberation a freeing possible sound. Wet birds let evidence change. Gardeners were placed on boards, scooted over recent past statement, and watched yet again the weeds. Crickets were heavy with leg temperature. /Lips are instant feeding/, says expert. Study concludes. A leaf didn't fall right. Autumn would present a local idea. Someone had to explore the region near the brook. Finally, a wild look at squirrels! /Trust becomes a momentary blister/, a few pressed people argued. In range of a skunk, tables were turned. When the rain maximized, a lot of other things went different. Possible endings were found. The discussion finished with some real pieces of glass. A dog got away, but over the space of a few lopes, nothing more needed saying. Trusted coyote were as much as the books could stand. Informational systems became business as usual. Locks met their match. We started to ignore the resistance, lured by retreat, but left it all in place. /This is the place/, said one and all.
tenderly
Let go fuck a duck be your final reward. You change with each spin. You'll spend as much as you can, while adhering to the march. Does go fuck a duck include every nation you could invent? Are you still hearing same day phrases while you chasten the foamy brooding of ocean bend? What series, finally, will you inherit? Go liberally and fuck that duck!
heavy things in series
Claims stay the course, which ends in features that will rein in the parties of doubt or production (those opposites). the course, you should know (willing to travel this line), needs adherents. These adherents will refine goals, circle dates, present their theories. In time, which doesn't need to exist but willingly chooses to, all participants will find situation and compression. This is the guarded path to compassion. You may need more turns in your own walk away, or you may bound over the obstructions, according to idiom and directive. No one finds feasible deals in delaying the pronouncement. We tire in our time, we retire, then we leave the field. The field, it is true, never leaves us. This is the nature of our task.
poetry seen
all the flutes of buttery truckstops stall daily poets outage fall all the bunches of apelike aptitude stun culture rocks in normal fleece all the gummi bears of thrifty poetries resume an assault with wasted backdoors all the humped fury training tables poetry showed for berry ride all the gunky shadows move poem flocks to new hides all the donut wheels of everyday poem slopes skim jumping habitude all the dust dog dignity drifts sleep ugly poem popes all the school tree average ego trait words eat poetry nod all the heck interchangeableness conveys trading words all the warm bait lines oust bod within poem flues desperate dots all the dots excuse
rightly made for it
Lobbied for mass. Gave a chain break, sought flop on couch, loosened enviable screw. Couldn't tell the difference between voices, professionally speaking. Remained calm, tho an ideal dragon ran roughshod across the tablature of some “new” music. Chopped at the froth of indignity yet couldn't square up properly. Defiled with a lazy column of detailing spirits, each wined and dined by present day standards. Flummoxed mildly. Severed relationships with all the querulous and party-savvy bumps in the road. Cashed in several recently reamed hedge bets that wafted like distance across the wideness of the river. Provoked a moaning oblivion while easily signaling a claustrophobic assumption. Wrote a latex-inspired screed in squirrelly jitterbug jive while staying the course for the length of a nonce. Bought better while assenting to only the most mournful of coffee cup disasters. Scrammed out the door with a headstrong oops. Filed for delight in the hopeful scan of mailing it in. by the end of the day it was wonderful until the merger began to crumble.
totally obvious?
Geese are crammed, drams are occurred, loops sing dreadful meat, mung beans resist dynasty, apes hate finks, chums load clumps, bears endure silhouettes, bumps are for Martians, laughing endows mood rings with elated rings pangs of sputum, metropolis files past the policy, ladder days sit on tubs, chunks of dingbats need immersing, hot sauce sends the last string to the Mersey, junkies hate crocks, glassful has been almost honest, June bugs resist deeds, Jerry Garcia died for your reaction, monkeys have Cambridge, lucky names strum the goat's guitar, oodles fit schmucks, Doppler effect is for candy fanciers, Google has chains in its lump franchise, dopes need spray chance, junkies lure umpire fez diction, dum dum lurcher blog slices attribute centre till muumuu wow, your own clanging supersedes the trawl across Atlantic love seat, stumps refer to jackets, words are pulverized enough, Jesus was a vacuum cleaner born of different plopping sounds, church winks survive Ferris wheels: did you expect the wrench in training camp fad while you could only roar over resistor goo? moss begs the tree of north for flood of over light bundling, your coonskin trading. Thank the many merchants for the throng of pulling out.
a travel log toward some mention
The literal basks in quite a sumptuous overdose, said the proud and clear stomach of possibly the best interpretation. The rest of us stand in line, resembling total loss of height in beam, serenity, the lesser step past a dune. A beached quiet surfaces for a coast of flowers. Those flowers survive with images hastened with love. Love itself is terribly physical, rushing thru doorways like a childish practice yet spoonfed with liberal taste. /not /distaste, observe, but slowly sumptuous. The exercise begins. The best interpretation revives with a westerly. Soon autumn, its examination, something for burial. Yet love, the surety while escape seems distant. And the escape itself, love, we can prove something. The literal necessity of falling or running toward. The cover of darkness for an example but not decreed. Then, love, then: a chest full of actions...
poetry plan near gulf
A bunch invention of John Keats. We sweat for this stuff. The crowds love the disciple, all proven rigours, the church bells so smelly in morning. Collections arise. Better choices render other options into candid fields, proving lit up and prodded. /This is/ /poetry/, said John Keats, really testy about the structure, ambiance, appliance. Now a vatic tropical engagement surfaces, slurred by menus of vague trolley, muted until safely appealed to, rustled by wranglers of large intent. This, then, poses a stopgap plan, ritualistic if not folded into traces. A condition of consideration, pulled from the vault and labeled mood, is a plan that Poetry must try to survive. Ask John Keats in the cool shed out of blurry green exaggerations. The pool he examines leaves mention in the brink, the perfect brink. Then why do it? Maybe is really a plan. Action resumes the march. Wind flops over the marsh where something sinks apace. John Keats said, /this/ /poem stayed with me./
Re: FOUND PHOTOS 2005
mwp wrote: FOUND PHOTOS 2005 Selected from an abandoned photo album found in 2005 along the train tracks in Albany, CA. The photos in the album were heavily soiled, scratched, faded, waterlogged, sun-damaged, nature-infiltrated, etc. The content of the photos appeared to be that of a dog show. I performed some cropping and minimal digital processing on the photos, mainly to enhance what was already there. I’ve made high-quality prints from these works, which range from 8x10” to 12x18”. The original size for all photos was 3x5”. very neat stuff. I find photos now and then, which I always pick up, but it never occurred to me to scan them. I gotta start gettin serious. Allen
don't blame the reader
the intrinsic sense of directing phones, to which I'm off in the bloom feature of fettle, masked argument of Iraqi, burnished lock over tension drape, juiced suddenness while prancing, stopgap economy while dying, stooped after effect in regent time spittle, blushed season after grating scene, trusting gown of looser frame, bouncing integer purporting regicide, glowing remarks while sagging poems, staggered singly by excellent swath, flipped in kindling drone, all for the effort ranch, the lubber detail, the scrid in parlance, the focus group poppies: surely these are reminiscent of Digimon legend, cartoon handicraft, shitbucket mummery, guff for the fancy, doubling of nothing... hello phones of plenty vending network climbing: I am near you...
honour platter
Picture of a universe with leaves drawn across carpets where last words struck a bargain. Picture of a universe provided with colours of intense downfall, or over the calling with mild surprise. Resumption of a picture in the universe when trees seek latterly and the effort of blossoms seems stung, loosened, a pearl of lode. Tradition of resumption in each universe squeak and ferrying, thru tremendous altitudes and even the best answer back. Squiring of universe conditions while even the least seems better in the perfection of staying. Kiss is a spring. Picture in the universe forever enough. Plaudits on reaching a universe in so many words. Piously portraying the conduit and fray in terms of a universe of reaching. A debt all the while, as the last on a universe knows.
myth
Isis had aspects.) To know his name wouldn't be feeble and nodding off. As id his mouth drooped and let out bringing her equal power of saliva which fell to the ground. Isis now mixed his saliva with the earth and uttered her magic to create living venom he gods. As Re refused giving away his name freely to her, she set out to find a way to coerce him to reveal the spouse serpent from the mixture. Gods would also rank her and her son Horus beside him among the traits and eye horizon in his 'Boat of Millions of Years'. he aged as he approached the end of day. beta drops Re refused giving away his name freely to her, she set out to find a way to coerce him to the soup. Soup spoon was traveling across decided, that would find out the secret name of her father Re, the next soup spoon. (In this myth she was daughter to Re. Often same deities appear in different contexts, mixing and sharing, Then she placed the serpent across the path where the soup spoon would travel the next day, and waited.
