grit your teeth

Wings of State Tanka

The wings are shearing
The fuselage vibrates hot
Head down between knees
There are no parachutes here
Grit your teeth close your eyes—NOW.

What I’m Reading:

“All of us moderns … can get away with a lot of waste when the economy is good. We forget that conditions fluctuate, and we may not be able to anticipate when conditions will change. By that time, we may already have become attached to an expensive lifestyle, leaving an enforced diminished lifestyle or bankruptcy as the sole outs.”

— Jared Diamond / Collapse

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and a smile

State of Nature

Blurring the distinction
between us and them—

To be a killer while wearing
a bespoke suit and a smile.

What I’m Reading:

“Our people often name an object in the manner which we destroy it.”

— Ben Lerner / Angle of Yaw

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looks like us

Unsustainability (ukiah 7-5-7)

Unsustainability
Looks like us right now
Life is full of bad choices

(Left to right: War, Pestilence)

What I’m Reading:

“Look. We are more than our scars. We hold the memory of trauma in our roots. And still, here is a moment of pure joy.”

— Art 25 Collective / “Imaginary Photo Album or, When We Die, Our Polaroids Speak to Our Living Descendants”

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sharp and angular

Anything But That (redux)

1.
Wild dogs, squirrels, feral hogs, and bear were constant staples of our cook pots. We used them to supplement our two pounds allotment of rice each month.

2.
“I brought everything but that. I deny the existence of that. I would bring anything but that thing,” she said.

3.
So if you’ve got a family of four you’re spending $1000, just on entrance fees.

4.
“Maquis- Resistance groups. Maquis ( World War II), predominantly rural French guerrilla groups… The network of rural bases operated by the Communist Party of Kampuchea prior to the Cambodian Civil War…”

5.
Luna moths were another treat I learned to eat, with its wings removed and roasted over an open fire it made for the perfect bite.

6.
I imagine all this through the mind of a sick, desocialized, and dissociative woman, who lost her family. Her children taken by the state. Her husband accidentally decapitated at work. Her only remaining family burned to death in a wildfire.

7.
When we came upon the carcass of a moose we thought it a godsend. And we all ate the better pieces that had not been scavenged or turned to rot. It was after that day that we eventually all became sick and most of our party perished.

8.
Just as he was dying, I set a mangy dog to disemboweling him, so the last thing he felt and saw were the teeth of a ravenous cur at his intestines.

9.
We staggered along, one wet day after another, we learned to control our hunger. We had to keep moving to make our monthly rice pick-ups. We barely had time for concerted hunting. If we came upon something we quickly killed it and slogged along.

10.
She, in time, became untethered and violent. She fantasized of fixing his larynx in some way so he couldn’t scream any more. Perhaps tie him up and deprive him of food and water until he wasted away, sharp and angular, into a bony effigy.

11.
We made a desperate attempt to make the food cache before it was removed by the enemy. We succumbed slowly, one or two of us a day. At the end of two weeks only Cruz and I were left alive, but we were in a very bad way and then you found us near death at the banks of the river.

12.
The newly moved-in family next door with an over abundance of everything doesn’t sit right with her. The neighbor child was overly loud, had ADHD, and couldn’t control himself.

13.
The tall man, dressed in black, sitting in the first row, removed his mask and said, “So this is how a loving god looks over his children?”

What I’m Reading:

“I have to write what’s difficult, otherwise it is difficult to write.”

— Ghalib / “About My Poetry”

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light the powder

Explode Haiku

A proximate cause—
A match to light the powder—
The keg will explode.

What I’m Reading:

“Everyone does things they don’t want people doing back . . . Everywhere you look, the strong walk all over the weak.”

— Mieko Kawakami / Heaven

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impaled by sunshine

Liminal Haiku

You can see through me—
Hollow, fluid, liminal—
Impaled by sunshine.

What I’m Listening To:

“Here comes life with his leathery whip
Here comes life with his leathery, leathery”

— Aldous Harding / “Leathery Whip”

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a stopgap gesture

Structural Logic

New people born daily: $5.99 / lb.

Self-replicating cosmic forces, yeasts, molds.

The sky is a terminal blue.

Ontology, espistemology, phenomenology, Teletubbies.

Getting naked in front of another person for the first time.

Coral reefs bleaching.

Hieronymus Bosch, Albrecht Dürer, Francis Bacon, Samuel Alito.

A stopgap gesture to appease.

People die everyday: $ .39 / each.

What I’m Reading:

“… I used to think
the moon was illiterate.”

— Victoria Chang / “The Cold Before the Moonrise”

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a random event

Newsruption 2

You will no longer be bothered, or financially hurt,

by your role in an office-clearing
confrontation

at the place where they “check all your boxes”
based on a photo posted on Facebook.

You will no longer be bothered, or financially hurt,

by contagion—a peculiar one—
where your sudden imagining

of how said contagion was created
is upset by your spouse’s

nonchalant snacking and drinking
while watching television.

Don’t focus so much on whether a person
fits your “type”—

focus on how every person you know will die
during a random event.

What I’m Reading:

“April should be the cruelest
month, but they are all
cruel in their inch-by-inch strike.”

— Victoria Chang / “September”

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cooked to perfection

Press play to watch short film roil (:47)

roil (ukiah poem)

coronal mass ejection
roil bubble and boil
the earth cooked to perfection

What I’m Reading:

“Yet recent analysis shows there is now a 48 per cent chance of temporarily exceeding 1.5°C within the next five years.”

New Scientist editorial

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now you don’t

Identity Reconstruction Tanka

Now you see me, now
you don’t. I’m lost to myself.
Even I can’t see
me. These are the places I
lived. This is the art I made.

What I’m Reading:

“Artists manifested themselves in art, not the world, so humans could encounter them there, forever. People could return to books at any time and find them right there, those burning souls, their words as bright as the day they were written.”

—Sheila Heti / Pure Colour

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