bebo and spike are dead and that just sucks.

soof-yann

pretty nice little article

sufjan stevens, the guardian

po'mz

robert creeley the poet

i've always enjoyed his work.  good interview.

here's a blurb.  you'll probably laugh...

INTERVIEWER

Do you think you work better in the isolated places you seem to frequent—in New Hampshire, Mallorca, New Mexico?

CREELEY

That seems to be my habit, although having been a teacher for some years I can make it with a number of people and find a place with them. But my dilemma, so to speak, as a younger man, was that I always came on too strong with people I casually met. I remember one time, well, several times, I tended to go for broke with particular people. As soon as I found access to someone I really was attracted by—not only sexually, but in the way they were—I just wanted to, literally, to be utterly with them. I found myself absorbing their way of speaking. I just wanted to get in them. And some people, understandably, would feel this was pretty damned exhausting—to have someone hanging on, you know, like coming at you. I didn't have any experience of how it was really affecting the other person. I mean, I think that a lot of my first wife's understandable bitterness about our relationship was the intensity that she was having to deal with. I mean everything was so intense and involved always with tension. My way to experience emotion was to tighten it up as much as possible, and not even wittingly. Just “naturally.” Allen Ginsberg makes a remark that when I get to town nobody sleeps till I'm gone. I can't let anybody sleep because I don't want to miss anything. I want it all, and so I tend at times, understandably, to exhaust my friends—keep pushing, pushing, pushing. Not like social pushing to make a big noise, but you know, I don't want to miss it. I love it. I so love the intensity of people that I can't let anything stop until it's literally exhaustion.

[...]
 “Well, look, if I paint what you know, then that will simply bore you, the repetition from me to you. If I paint what I know, it will be boring to myself. Therefore I paint what I don't know.” Well, I believe that. I write what I don't know.

houston

he's down the street from me or something.

thursday

'portlandia' is hilarious.

feist's new album is really good.

life is comedy

and i love to laugh.


xo

Gears

Rosemary would eat off all our desks

doing what she's doing

               the casket left

in the living room.

    Use it as a coffee table when the neighbors come over

    Eat a birthday cake on it

    Take a picture of the green and gold pillow with cursive salvation on it

    Put a cat on it

Your brother's mother warms a lean, her face high

above the white plates, an approved

confusion wriggled in dim light.

Japanese cooks at a bakery

washing dishes.

"You need to know but you don't"

     falling in love is just another       way of making

a fool

of yourself

Don't touch me on the chest while your wife is upstairs

The confidence of sound

in a room filled with space

Danger in the corners

relaxes a time bomb escaper

lying in a splintered crater of rosewood floors, a tree invertebrate

soaking into his family

                      memories

and when the dog was never found; it smelled of oxidized iron before it was

what it was             to be.

Derelict advantages play fast jazz towards a pool

of sports car buyers, their

company is ALL AT ONCE.

When craning remittance shuffles

with a dance partner called

However You Want It, the moon cages itself in

a jealous harboring made of Entice. 

He snacks on gas

station beef jerky, a cosmic spin

put on the whole thing. 

Man, laughing, he's totally laughing at

the whole thing.

"Hey, if you escape, shoot me in the brain, okay?

...I've gotta be somewhere soon."

            Lasting here any longer,

            Punches through white paper,

and      Integration sleeps with some slothy lady

down   the street, she's actually right next door.

Brass melody, waiting family,

voices crowded with errant noise

     can't reach the handle

          can't reach the handle to

When gears rotate smoothly

When weather opens mouths

When bodies warm bodies