Monday, January 31, 2011

Seefeel • Faults (2010)

Sweet Morning

Sweet morning
though it be calm but a blink
a flash on a cud of light
milky and dull
the metallic thread
is the pop in the wind
and what comes after
comes holy ghost city
comes sooner than later
wash my hands of grief
of systems of projections
of these boundaries of hours
wash them away too
the bolted body frame
sits upright I am inside
this electric meat
I throb in the spectacle
on the subway
on the street
on the job
on and on.

Saturday, January 29, 2011


There is so much to do today
but I'm not going to do any of it
I'm going to just do whatever I want
and then maybe do it some more
and then that will be that
and that's that.

Best Scents of 2011

1) AMBER DE SULTAN Serge Lutens
3) ANOTHER 13 Le Labo
4) SANTAL NOBLE Maitre Parfumeur Et Gantier
5) OUD 27 Le Labo

Friday, January 28, 2011

Rudolf Stingel

Live from Mary's.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Snow Stuff

Red Onion in the Snow

An elegant blitz of slush
is something I can wake up to.
My sheets have jelly on them.
All my books are marked with severed
pinkies. Out in the living room someone
spilled corn on the pillows
and stinky green multivitamins
are strewn on the floor.
What's going on here?
I'm alone with the
crisp metallic clang of the radiator and the sounds
of snow removal machines humming
together creating a wobbly harmony.
The day is blank. Someone put
a red onion on the snow outside
my door, like that would help
change things, like I would ever
find love again.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011


How could I forget the weight of you
the warp and weft of all we hid
somewhere in that house
that burned right down to the ground?
How could I forget all we can't give back
all we took with the promise of returning it
stapled in a bag and set gently on the steps?
Just give me the sweet medicine of sleep
and the hand you held over my mouth
around my neck just embrace me
like the darkness of this night
when I click off the lamp all I have
to do is lay back and grin
it really happened
all of it
and I'm right here after all.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Cousin Corinne's Reminder Launch Party!

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 26TH, 2011 7pm-12am




Priscilla Becker
Todd Colby
Stanley Crouch
Catherine Lacey
Adam Wilson


Dean Haspiel & Joan Reilly

*Signings by Comix Block contributors:
Tim Hamilton, Jen Ferguson, and Michel Fiffe


Featured in USA TODAY:
And MTV Online:
And Twi-NY:

any questions regarding the event at (718) 875-3677.


Zack Zook + The Editors






Poem to Be Taped to the Back of a Stranger on the Subway

I am getting better at life than you think you know
I am now at Expert Life Level meaning I
can move through the city and not get too distracted
my focus is intense yet inviting you to come into my life
and make me laugh about something I won't regret
a new grief that I can dispose of this grief
and whatever laughter does well it is basically
a simple gas coming out of my lungs and that feels good
to just give that up to the air around me
so whatever gets it out is okay with me it's
not ridiculous to watch a kid do dumb things
and laugh or to put things on my back on the subway
when I get home and find this you'll know what
a kick I'll get out of your tricks because
we're all dying so what the fuck you're trying too
and so here we go: another day to get it right.

Califone - Funeral Singers

Monday, January 24, 2011

James Schuyler and Joan Mitchell

This made me shudder a bit. And then I smiled. This piece and many others are in the excellent show: Tibor de Nagy Painters and Poets. All the info is right here.

Three for Monday

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Now You Know

There are things I would never show you
because they are so beautiful they would
crack your eyes like yokes over toast running
down your cheeks. Without your eyes you'd never
again be able to sign a check or tag a subway car.
A layer of grime would coat your floors
and the books you loved so much would sit
as slabs of marble sit in an abandoned quarry.
But I would come for you every day with nutritious
morsels of watercress and apricots. I would
make sure your sheets were fresh and the scent
of sandalwood and myrrh would envelop your
scarf whenever we walked arm-in-arm from your home
to the East River. I would really learn French
and modulate my voice in such a way
that you would think I was someone else,
a newer more sublime stranger with the stylish
yet off-the-cuff manner of an educated
railroad worker reading Plato in the caboose.
I will never abandon you, not for money or art
or even the promise of a purer love. My motives
are so clear that I'll never show you something
that would crack your eyes, ever. Now you know.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Mississippi Fred McDowell - Shake Em On Down

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Heating Survey

1) Are you able to turn on and off your radiators with the butt of a rifle?

2) Do all of your radiators receive radio transmission when you turn them on with the Special Mechanism? If not, have you been instructed on the the dangers of misusing the Special Mechanism? How do you explain the Special Mechanism to visitors? Can you keep a secret?

3) Do all of your radiator or heat-riser air-vents leak minty soft gas air? During a dream cycle are you able to remember the names of any classmates you had in the 5th grade?

4) Do any of your air events spit water during the dream cycle? Are you able to shower in that water? Which team are you on when you dream? Do any of your teammates force you to do things you feel uncomfortable about?

5) If your apartment is sometimes warmer than usual, is it generally on funny days? Like you just start laughing and the room feels warmer?

6) Do you find your apartment is older or softer than usual?

7) When your apartment is too warm, what do you usually do? Are you familiar with the Badger Cone mechanism located near the base of the apparatus? Have you ever turned it in a frenzy and been blamed by another occupant of the apartment for something valuable disappearing, i.e. "theft?"

8) Do you have access to all your radio knobs? Do you listen to talk radio? Do you like celebrity interviews? Does it take your mind off the disorder in your life? Have you accomplished all your goals for the day? (eg: no broken pieces of furniture blocking access to a secret passageway).

Please describe any additional issues you have with the distortions in your apartment in the space below.


Meet Me in the City

You know everything I say is wrong
the dusty light under the bed a long brown
hair from who knows when I am stroking
the pillow when we get together
all the people are making everything
all right. I want to be with those people
that make everything all right. Or those
people that seem sure of being able to
change things for the better. Real take charge
people that leave room to breathe in some
light. You can just imagine what my childhood
was like if that's what I desire. My moods
change let's go into the city and watch
some kinds of people doing things in a manner
we will never have the resources or initiative
to do. Shopping for expensive scents like
that's what you do in a nice shirt and pants with
leather shoes. You can imagine how nice
the things are that I am referring to. I'm not
an old blues man. I built a little house from
Popsicle sticks and Elmer's glue. I tasted paste
and generally I can kick a ball far away.
My mind has not changed it has been made up.
Meet me in the city, meet me there, please.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

R.L. Burnside & Johnny Woods - Telephone Blues

Junior Kimbrough - Meet Me in the City

Things to Love

Morning brings some things to love:
the sun, frozen rain, silence, my blue mug, my momentary calm,
the friends I have, what's on my wall, the bag of clementines
I bought from Union Market last night, a bunch of bananas, my cheapo
reading glasses from Duane Reade, Bach at dawn, the slow way
I put on my favorite Deerhoof t-shirt in the morning like I'm in a movie
about a man in a movie putting his shirt on very slowly, texts
at dawn, my leather cuff, the Science Times, a dog that knows
a thousand proper nouns, James Schuyler, the wooden blocks of Paris,
my metal horse with wings, everybody leaves, everybody.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011


Please join Off the Park Press and the David Nolan Gallery for a celebration of the publication of "Viva la Difference: Poetry Inspired by the Painting of Peter Saul."

There will be readings by poets in the anthology: Susan Berger-Jones, Todd Colby, Lorraine Doran, Judson Evans, Eileen B. Hennessy, Jennifer Hayashida, Boni Joi, Bill Kushner, Claudia LaRocco, Ronna Lebo, Michael Leong, Sharon Mesmer, Tom Obrzut, Thaddeus Rutkowski, Catherine Shainberg, Tara Skurtu, Sally Van Doren, Paul Violi, John Yau and Scott Zieher and live music loops by Tobi Joi.

Saturday January 22, 2011 3-5pm
David Nolan Gallery
529 West 29th Street, NY, NY
(between 10th & 11th Ave.)

*Free copy of the anthology with a $5 purchase of white wine, beer or sparkling water*

Copies are also available at Small Press Distribution:

Monday, January 17, 2011

January Top 15

1) Sarah Michelson: Devotion, at The Kitchen

2) Reggie Watts: Dutch A/V, at La Mama--thanks J

3) Patti Smith: Just Kids

4) Jane Bowles: Selected Letters 1935-1970

5) Mississippi Fred McDowell, everything he ever recorded

6) Le Labo: Pin 12, the candle

7) The Chelsea Hotel, Lola, and the scent of Serge Lutens: Santal de Mysore

8) Engineered Garments Engineer Jacket in Grey Vintage Chambray

9) Fiorentini and Baker: Bong Boots

10) RRL Flannel Shirts

11) Paris, France

12) Sanctum

13) A long conversation on the phone with a loved one

14) Nights alone

15) My down comforter

Tonight is dedicated to Mr. Mississippi Fred McDowell

Saturday, January 15, 2011


You can't have it unless you give it all back
and you will have to give it back someday,
just not right now. I'll take credit for that
and I'll give it back on a blue Saturday
when things shift just a bit and the weather
makes you remember we're all barreling through
the months, banging into June one moment
and December the next. But I digress. In fact, I only
ever digress. My disasters in love are well
documented but I still get up every morning,
wash my face, and feel closer to something
like a final note in a fucked up symphony. But
that's making more of silence than the ears
can bear the sound of your own feet which
are always and only your own (you live alone).
We get born into the world and perhaps even
come to some vague realization or understanding just in time
for it all to wind down. That's the joke:
you just need to forgive a lot and walk out
into the ocean until you're knee deep in
the churning froth. There you'll find it:
your feet cold, heart racing, nowhere to go but further out,
nothing left to let go of but everything.

Saturday Morning with Jane Bowles

"Did you know that in New Jersey the wind has a pale lavender nose and a big fat pigtail tied with a whip? Well, it doesn't--really. I'm expecting the Morro Castle ghosts in a half an hour. They sank right outside my window."
-JB, January 29, 1937. From The Selected Letters of Jane Bowles 1935-1970.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Friday Photographs

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Mississippi Fred McDowell for You

Praise him.

Furry Lewis for You

Josephine of Pearline

We are going to meet for high tea
and we are going to talk Jane Bowles
and be most excellent
and elegant all day long.
It is important that you know that
there are no mistakes in Marrakech.
There are people in good positions
pulling you up from something
that's got you down
and they will let you down.
Oh my Mystra, you of Aesop,
Josephine of Pearline, oh you,
the sleep of you,
and that's just it.

Five for Friday Night

Tickle Tummy Hill

Your tongue has a shape
like a pink dolphin but when
you speak you sure don't sound like one.
Please explain your intentions in an essay form
that I can understand for once.
You might want to site numerical
determiners and use a series of adjectives
that make your pulse quicken -- sort of
half out-of-control-go-cart-down-a-hill
and half just-falling-down-from-a-great-height.
You will be missed.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Baby Blue Snow

Snow makes hickory of summer.
My muscles feel tight around my bones
so I walk stiffly on ice. Oh winter
you don't match my moods anymore
warm sand is a lot like my methods
when you come into the room
I forget what I came here for.
Okay, let's get it on.

Reaching into wild Brooklyn
my hands are sure and tight meat
around bones making a good grip
on my skeleton. Snow last night:
shimmer city sparkle water is proof
to lift my heart in song, in punk I sing.
At the end of my rope is another ladder
now my movements seem certain
the snow distorts sound so the BQE
sounds like fingers sizzling on a pan
in a luxury hotel I want to get together.

Fridge Art

PJ Harvey - The Last Living Rose

Monday, January 10, 2011

Happy National Arthur Rimbaud Day

Saturday, January 08, 2011

PJ Harvey - Written on the Forehead

Son House - Forever on my Mind

Friday, January 07, 2011

Cardinal Poem

It seems all I have to do is walk forward
and the landscape recedes. A new sort of
snow has fallen, making the old snow seem
less perfect, more filthy; insanely laden with
bacteria. I scope out a new tree to throw
my coat into so when you walk under it
you'll think of me and my French amber.
Please recall my dance moves and my mission
to restore faith in the glory of love, or what remains
of our ability to walk amid the slippery stones.
I want nothing more than a coffee with an
extra shot of espresso and oh, perhaps
a pen and a napkin and something soft
and red and significant, like a cardinal
in a box of cotton.

Joe Brainard: Cardinal Rose

Perfect for a snowy day. Currently being shown at Tibor de Nagy Gallery through January 8th.

Thursday, January 06, 2011

Who Let You Go?

All the people are getting even with my
new panic button because they are revved up on
capitalism. A battering ram at my door like on a cop show,
with theatrical urgency, because they know they're being filmed.
I don't want to wake up to that, ever. It's good to mention
what you feel too but what about my door, it's fucked.
An eagle on a nature show eats some fungi
and mistakes himself for a fist with wings
(he flies pretty good for sick eagle though).
Oh for the days of simply whistling while I floated
down a river with my ass planted in an inner tube.
Oh to never again frisk a litigant, or sell something
to someone I don't even know. I'm trying to be fabulous
all the time. I've ordered some super special diamond dice
from the internets that are just for licking, you. Of
wetness and the bridge of your nose, of workers
knocking things over, of dreams that show
no signs of beginning. Oh, who let you go?

Tuesday, January 04, 2011


Son House - Grinnin' in Your Face

Monday, January 03, 2011

The Last Photo of Arthur Rimbaud

Down By The River

Mister Freedom

Hello, Future

It's nice to have people again
people that don't want to leave me
for the latest big sound or some
ruffled sunset with violin cues
and all that stuff that makes us ooh and aah.
There is already enough intensity
in the mere whip of days. Every day
opens until it does not, it just stops.
I mean, I'd love to give my friends an orange
and silver parade every morning
but what the people really need are good shoes
and friendly clerks who help them find
things they didn't know they needed.
I'll be that clerk for you. I'm a good shaker,
I've used a salad spinner in another life.
I have the gift of glitter. I think I started
drawing lines as a boy and then they turned into
letters and then I learned to type and wrote
this for you. I will always have you, I said.

Sunday, January 02, 2011


Saturday, January 01, 2011

New Year's Day Walk Shots