Tag Archives: Cut-Up Writing

string of drugs

Posted on September 19, 2022 by istsfor manity

Monotonals What I’m Reading: “A regular asks her to stir her finger in his coffee, and she willhear in him blue grass and a murder of crows,hunger’s sickle sinking deep” — Diamond Forde / “Rememory”

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love of life

Posted on September 18, 2022 by istsfor manity

The Best Stuff I Read This Week “It is clear that reason and facts alone no longer suffice to move people and society to action.” — David Suzuki, Tara Cullis, Miriam Fernandes, and Ravi Jain / What You Won’t Do … Continue reading →

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a kiss under

Posted on September 17, 2022 by istsfor manity

Two Butcher Boys at Division Point (Tanka) Revenge parable:A dispute careens off-track—Shattered eyeglassesBlind and brambled in the weeds.A kiss under the blood moon. What I’m Listening To: “Hope is a muscleThat allows us to connect” —Bjork / “Atopos”

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belches and squelches

Posted on September 16, 2022 by istsfor manity

First Casket, Secret Casket (Flim Review for a Non-Existent Flim) First Casket, Secret Casket is new film about a benighted romance between a Cuban-American sugar cane harvester and a seldom-acknowledged singer in a punk band. The former is a political … Continue reading →

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but with heave

Posted on September 15, 2022 by istsfor manity

Workshopped Word I am an agglomeration of symptoms—purposefully askew and tinny.Closer to your interior benchmark—akin to brainy and quicksilver—but with HEAVE! Diffident ain’t the workshopped word you’d use,closer to big shrimp without the sea. I really don’t know what I’m … Continue reading →

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patriarchy and cake

Posted on September 14, 2022 by istsfor manity

Poorhouse Vista Good Morning Resignation. Bub Linkman is a downer. We are not a good match. We are unable to scheme moves, sketch delphiniums, or libretto overtures. We are unable to accent our annoyances and poorhouse vistas. Please call me … Continue reading →

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like a target

Posted on September 10, 2022 by istsfor manity

SoFla Hometown Blues Sometimes you feel like a targetSometimes the memories clamp like straight jacket confinesSometimes you have to visit familySometimes it feels like home againSometimes you’d rather be anywhere else in this bent and melting worldSometimes you have to … Continue reading →

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werewolves and camellias

Posted on September 8, 2022 by istsfor manity

Dilatory Prelate The prelate drafts an encyclical announcing that the werewolves and camellias will be delivered on Friday to all diocese in the mountainous regions. It encourages all Englishmen and yogis to traipse about nude and re-stage the highlights of … Continue reading →

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maybe the kids

Posted on September 7, 2022 by istsfor manity

Thee “New Florida’s Always Right!” (found haiku) Keep pets near. (So dear!)Do not feed alligators …Well … maybe the kids. What I’m Reading: “To me, the frontier is a tundra of intergenerational amnesia.” — Lisa Wells / Believers: Making a … Continue reading →

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the tactless foot

Posted on September 2, 2022 by istsfor manity

State I’m In I took umbrage at the penumbra—The darkling darkening of my mood—Was it the partial eclipse of the moon?(Its waxing moony-moony face: jejune)Or was it a flaring sunspot’s craquelure of quietude? Or was it the plague?Or the fascist … Continue reading →

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