belt buckles rain down the devil’s hail in appropriate private spaces
o, father of violence o, father of terminal lies o, father of red-hot welts
i am soft underbelly pillow-protected an urchin turned upside-down a cord-yanked silence
papa was a rollin stone cuts-out hard arms edged thee devil’s pincers
i am choke-throes of burning stars i am black-red liminal space
What I’m Reading:
“There was this woman who fondled me with teargas in her eyes. There was this man who hung about as silent as a gunshot. They were my parents. He would pull the trigger and her eyes would smart and burst. The echo played a rapid tattoo on the windowpanes … I would hear another world raging inside my skull as though at any moment I would spin like a silver top and disappear out of my head … He pulled the trigger several times one night and she like a cyclone wrung all the silence from me. I howled. Howled like a sinister symphony at full blast … I had somehow entered the wrong room, come into the wrong world. I had to escape. I have to escape. The shrill whine tore through my ears and deposited three policemen who froze the bright picture. The man was carried out of my life.”
image: created using dall•e3 ai image generator via written instruction
annihilation
i.
ise got exacto knife blues three dozen moons mirrored deep all festooned convexities waxing gibbous on repeat telescope inflected beak-less gutter snipes
“I’m not into resolutions—though I understand why people like them. Every revolution of a circle brings with it something like another chance to step into our own stories differently. It’s also true every second of existence we have this chance.”
— Lidia and the Squid Squad and all the rocks in the world / “We’re all carrying on the best we can.” / Corporeal Writing email
“Nothing perhaps illustrates the general disintegration of political life better than this vague, pervasive hatred of everybody and everything, without a focus for its passionate attention, with nobody to make responsible for the state of affairs-neither the government nor the bourgeoisie nor an outside power. It consequently turned in all directions, haphazardly and unpredictably, incapable of assuming an air of healthy indifference toward anything under the sun.”
— Hannah Arendt / The Origins of Totalitarianism
“The fundamental reason high-tech solutions won’t save us from climate change is simple: time. Time is by far the most important variable — and the one thing technology can’t give us more of.”
— Dr. Jonathan Foley / “Can Tech Save Us From Climate Change?” / BBC Science Focus
“The angels are leaving all the alcoves everywhere, the medium in which Unicorns, Bigfoot, Green Deer exist growing always thinner, like the rain forests and the creatures that live and breathe in them. As the forests fall to make way for motels and Hiltons and McDonald’s, the whole magic universe is dying.”
— William S. Burroughs / The Cat Inside
“the airplanes fly unassuming over O they eat and eat the steel mouths and burn what the earth spun eons to form”
— Maureen N. McLane / “Some Say”
“Standing nearly as tall as a basketball hoop and weighing as much as a grizzly bear, Gigantopithecus blacki was the greatest ape to ever live. For more than a million years during the Pleistocene … these nearly 10-foot-tall apes were most likely doomed by their specialized diet and an inability to adapt to a changing environment.”
— Jack Tamisiea / “The Biggest Ape That Ever Lived Was Not Too Big to Fail” / The New York Times
“I want to be/like self rising bread/just there/in the warm/silent kitchen/sunny, ignored/and endlessly productive”
— Molly Schaeffer / “Some days, the light”
What I’m Listening To:
“turtleneck, iBook, power cord, medications Button down laptop, hand cool body lotion, Bella Freud, YSL, Eckhaus Latta, Eyelash curler, vibrator, teaser, BYE BYE, BYE BYE”
I did, however, buy a pair of really expensive Beyoncé tickets.
We used it for china, crystal, and collectible display…
He used burner cell phones to contact sex workers.
My hands were frost bitten—and I had gloves on!
Use caution while entering and exiting the building as the temperature drop is resulting in ice forming.
I’m looking to lease my 1 bedroom apartment.
I have a sharpening stone …
Hey, man, you got a cigarette?
Even in winter, biking is the best way to commute.
I liked feeding people.
I can’t take another political ad …
What I’m Reading:
“I began to see that I had used the process of art not only to contain my intensities but also to exorcize those beyond my endurance, and must have done so with haste akin to panic, for it was a kind of panic I felt when once again inexorably confronted by my own work.”
We ask of divination no deviation from devotion to the caw and cedilla.
We ask that you please use cedar chips while entering the garage as the bullfight ring and kitty litter obscure a particular type of idiocy.
We ask that you use caution in ideation as our snowflake rendezvous is plying a new behavioral therapy.
We ask that call and response be done hourly at :23 past the hour, and limit itself to topics of salt and filibuster idiosyncrasies.
We ask that you dilate your pupils before driving your cars out of the garage, and that you relinquish all pertinent identikits of suspect snowpersons.
We ask that if there are any changes concerning the occupancy of your home that you please contact the nearest template manager for the appropriate boilerplate druid for inclusion into the Domesday Pay-Off Traid Plus. (Refer to codicil 11.1a. for any exclusions)
We ask that if you marinate your meats after 4pm, that you please prepare an appropriate sofrito according to Cuban standards.
We ask for exultation’s sake that cotton balls double as snowflakes and “huzzahs” be produced from deep in the gizzard. (Some restrictions apply if you are of non-avian extraction)
We ask that you excuse our caveats as we bulldoze your tenancy, and your petty concerns about glacier calving. We prefer our icebergs Rhode Island-sized and thick.
We ask our clumsy cèilidh be excused. We are all left feet and chicken-toed, bow-legged and jocularly unfunny.
We ask that you snuggle an elected idler as they shovel the excess snow which will one day be mere coolish water. They’ll need buckets then.
We ask that you pardon our glower. We’se mad as hell.
We ask you have a nice day. Ok?
Thank you,
The Manglement
What I’m Reading:
“so we are made made in pain to pose and shimmer”
— Jennifer Sperry Steinorth / Her Read: A Graphic Poem
Fade in. Write you into a dream. It becomes nightmare. WASP-69b. All shadow despite the flames ringing the frame. Aggravated arpeggios plinked by helium horns on hydrogen bushes. Something vast, sinuous and sinister, undulates beyond the horizon. Outside of history. Cacophonic ferrous tang. Tour dates announced. Take this show on the road. For all mankind. Fade to black.
What I’m Reading:
To the left, I was now sure, was the place where my brother lay dying. To the right, there was nothing. I decided to walk in the direction of that.