E.M. Cioran

"By a certain age, we should change names and hide out somewhere, lost to the world, in no danger of seeing friends or enemies again, leading the peaceful life of an overworked malefactor." - E.M. Cioran, from The Trouble With Being Born

I Married a Pajama-Wearing Robot

This Weekend

PEEL! (click image to enlarge)

Six Akron Liars

1) Sasha, with his plastic forks and blue jean collection (all Wranglers). LIAR.
2) Val with her mod pie enthusiasm and automobile transmission bullshit. LIAR.
3) Carl who shall remain: LIAR.
4) Beth Ann with her greasy sparkle make-up and the felt sample applique horse blouse. LIAR.
5) Vinny with his heroic mud bath solution and the jet pack mega-expensive spa. LIAR.
6) Big Tony with his electric toy cars for tots idea, what an ass. LIAR.

Monday Top Four

1) Brandon Downing's amazing selection of manipulated films: "Dark Brandon." Watching both discs is like dreaming in another language that turns out to be the language you speak when you wake up with a rinsed out head. www.brandondowning.org

2) The Tiny, Volume 3, 2007. thetinyjournal.com

3) New American Writing, Number 2, Fall 1987

A Time Space Thing

This design is bracketed
in smush powder by a hydo-gaming
device making the loose ends meet.
The design is deemed "splendid"
and "ashy." A cowboy shirt
with crinkles masks the expense
of lake swimming, gadgets, the thumb
print of avocado fat on the beveled mirror.

I'm so into your thin husks
of key lime. Squirt gun medicine,
greasy ammonia stream, Pop-Tarts
full of detergent. I'm listening
to your music as I walk past
the place I lived before you
were born. The design is secure,
it's a time space thing, I built it.

Radiohead

Thanks Liz @ lizzyville.com

Ultimate Panda

You immobilized your darling
panda steaks in aspic
creating panda veal
meats of the world
you only eat the endangered
species you sick fuck
but they're so tender
(makes chef's gesture:
kisses cluster of fingers
and splays them into the air, de-lish!)
it melts from the bone
we have to follow you with a pan
letting the meat drip in a cone
we pour the ingredients back
into your face and watch
you gurgle with glee
"this is the last best panda ever
and I am eating it for good
weather you like it or not
because it’s tender so fuck you"
your mouth has ultimate panda grease
on it let's make out.

Wednesday Top 5

1) A chocolate chip mashed into the bedspread.
2) Learning to Love You More by Miranda July
3) The Braindead Megaphone by George Saunders
4) Coming After: Essays on Poetry by Alice Notley
5) Varieties of Disturbance by Lydia Davis

Battle Hill Reading at Green-Wood Cemetery 10.13.07.

I, Nocturne

You should be sleeping
in a car with a window
rolled down a cliff
in a movie
about bears
yes A MOVIE
yes BEARS
yes licking HONEY
from your BELLY BUTTON
a crowd of butterflies
are talking
yes they are TALKING
right HERE
in this POEM
because I SAY SO
and here is what
they are saying:
WE ARE A NEW TYPE OF BUTTERFLY
WITH UGLY RAZOR TEETH
and now for something totally kick ass:
YAY: all
sorts of money
is flying everywhere
HOLY SHIT
money is no object
but here it is: BOOKS
you can buy all the BOOKS
you ever wanted
late at night things are
more interesting
more crisp
more colorful
than the drab and steamy DAY
maybe you should
put on the pink rubber mask
and scare your life
in the other room
maybe not
maybe baby.

Infinite Solutions

Thursday Top 1

1) 8 by Amy Fusselman (go buy it over at amazon.com right now please).

Wrought Iron (Baltic Street)

Elizabeth at dinner (8th Avenue & 16th Street)

I asked this guy if I could take his picture and he replied "for a dollar" (2nd Ave & 3rd St.)

Poet Larry Fagin looking splendidly poetic at The Poetry Project

I just want to walk around with you

Year of the Golden Boar (for Jennifer L. Knox)

In my hut
every year
is the Year
of the Golden Boar.
It starts off fun in January
and then
by October
I'm sick of The Golden Boar
and his moody brooding.
Here's why:
He breaks stuff
like my candy
canes and the taffy-
he gets into the taffy.
What a mess every year.
I won't even go into
the Golden Boar
on vodka.

From Daniel Nester's Website (Click Here)

Heavy Stuff

You might see me in a totally
deep private video wearing a flannel shirt
soaked in real stage blood
with a hook for an arm
made from a rusty wire hanger --
How did that get into this poem?
You might have to crack open
a pomegranate and fling the seeds on the
damp blue carpet -- not out of mischief, but of spite --
that's the way you roll in your cycle of crispy woe.
You can shave or pluck the unsightly hairs from your
gurgling enemies, you can rake the yard
of glass and offal while casually piercing the bag
of Peaches and Herb. You can even score points
with a machete as you walk through the mall, but you'll
never ever ever ever ever make friends with
the cool group because they totally kick
ass and they are not afraid of your bullshit.

Looky!

Luther said faith is located
just below the left nipple
with a series of "crowing"
vocalizations used for long-range
contact like a balloon or gas range.
As if this were not intimidating
enough, they "threat jerk"
toward their rival by abruptly
thrusting their eyelids and raising
the medial crest (on their heads).
And now for the weather:
Bright red, blue, and light purple to
lilac and pink.

This Morning