a grouse with completely feathered feet


All over the map, miscellany and marsupial pouches.


How They Took It

Purely for observing
Vortex abrasions
over the hill
making off with.
They was once
a word at
cross purposes to second that emoticon.
In that.
And also in other
means, who had time
when infanticide proved
How rocky.
The paladin
hunt's up, the self-serve
eating up a court with unbathed
fleas, and how.
Tennis invented.
A toast
to not starve.
Turn the Stations.
One stone
building per.
Write letters in
a head
for several years until giving
up for lack of
blogging quill
sheep to make a bookie.
Hence the problem,
though not
insurmountable with proprietary
skillz, e.g.,
thousands of low-carb.
The place.
The place where feeling
steals babies.
Coughing gulf blood,
this is attainment
chrism. A tain, a hailing.
A vortex, as
was said. A
Though not necessarily
wager. Enchanting
horse flies
turning manes hardly.
And yet unearned.
Depending on
food pyramid
poesy. The mineral
Matter in the prayer
trachea, a
veal seneschal
with an entry level crossbow.
So the big
deal is, grenadiers
the wildcat wheat that
small people
among young
shoots. Goofing up. Getting
it straight so
that sons will pasteurize
the troublesome.
Stay at
home and buyouts
will prevent threshing.
In the copper
canyons, where
graywolfs eat milkweed
smatter. Hallelujia.
As if in a
What to be made.
Yam armor to
sweet potato, potash to
soap bomb, ash to
Probity walking. Kobolds waking
under the marsh
duplexes, sharper.
The weather balloons loving
backwards through
time, large
as efficiences,
where the depot's four
leaf cleaner
lives. It is
cleaner. The druids drag.
The pig's eye trips
over crate and barrel,
wince mantras draping
everything in
her path. In that in
hence minor
ice ages, betrothed
to pieces of straw
soon after.
The childe's
head with black bowflex.
Thee. Slap
class against river
Because passage
invents passé,
acceptance of one's luxor armitage
bequeathing that,
that, and
that, and also that
young rhino
tied to the rock.
Waiting for the cardinal.
Gypsum grazed honey bunny.
Vorpal maize.
Has pluck,
that emissary, a
merits the family
glue business
kind of stare.
There is no ever arc.
No avert.
Midnight butter
scraped on
wonder bread.
Rusted from an inside
out wand,
the man in the
ghost turns.

Right here.

A map falls into a cask of wine. Quickly recovered. The wine is drunk three centuries later. The wine stain on the map is curled up and placed in a monestary. The map might taste like wine, but does the wine taste like map? I don't even really like wine. And where the fuck is America on the map???


Texas is under seige. Oh, yeah, representative democracy too. Do what you can. Contribute to's "Defend Democracy" Campaign

Working on a mini-essay/post on how Tara Reid is the Brian Jones of the 90s teen movie explosion. I feel bad for her. Maybe this is the essayic.


Not an endorsement.

We Butch Vig city on rock and roll!!!

This made my day:

[Starship] is a hip version of the Archies; make no mistake about it. One of the great counter-culture bands evolving into Jerry Garcia's worst nightmare. But it works. It is the Archies's for adults, some kind of clean pornography.

Hey, "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" got into both the Mannequin film and its sequel, Mannequin II, and how many themes can claim that?

No Protection was the high point for Starship; stripped of the essence of a rock & roll band, it works as a child of Kraftwerk, combining computers and rock music, turning a genius guitarist like Chaquico into a by-product. But one cannot deny that No Protection is brilliant in its embrace of sounds from the cold depths of outer space, a creature Paul Kantner never imagined his "Jefferson Starship" would find.


Easy news looking outside and seeing city dark. Lean into the crisis. People are helpful. Helpful people. Amazing how helpful people are, "despite 'everything.'" Energy policy is also helpful. Someone in a basement is writing a story about doing the helpful. Since the island was bought with that helpful glass. At first it was called New Amsterdam. That wasn't a helpful name!

Glorious tardy taxes.

Ba Ba Black Sheep is a political poem about The Tithe.

Take that pastoralia and stick it in your deed!


See, I suck at tactics. It's easy to kill me in chess. Await screwups. People in "my generation" who are more competent at orchestrating cultural capital than...well, this writing always becomes turgid for me. The smoothness of their perceived transactions hangs over head under reading interaction spell. How are they related? The used-car salesperson mentality and the purloined letters? Career management meets pitiful lotto indie cred? Relationship towards overrated poets and their own ability to hustle and also self-hustle? Connect four! (I think about this with Reetika--po-biz as a defense mechanism). It's totally unfair, on my part, in a way.

But only in a way. Not that I'm pure on that front, I guess.

Back to chess. I'm obsessed with the English opening:

When I (mostly lurk) on the chess boards like FICS, I use this opening as White almost exclusively. I am prone to hypermodernism. But again, tactics trumps positionalism any day of the week. It's more the idea of chess's ideas. Insert Nabokov/Duchamp/Bogart quote here, right?

Yesterday I went to White Castle and had sliders:

1. c4 Nf6 2. Nf3 e6 3. Nc3 b6 4. e3 Bb7 5. Qa4 Bxf3 6. gxf3 Bc5 7. f4 O-O 8.
Bg2 b5 9. Qb3 d5 10. cxd5 Nxd5 11. Nxd5 exd5 12. e4 Qh4 13. O-O dxe4 14. Bxe4 Na6 15. Bxa8 Rxa8 16. Qxb5 Qxf4 17. Qxa6 Rb8 18. Qc6 Qc4 19. d4 Qxd4 20. Qxc7 Re8 21. Be3 Qg4+ 22. Kh1 Qe4+ 23. Kg1 Bxe3 24. fxe3 Qxe3+ 25. Kg2 f6 26. Rf3 Qd2+ 27. Rf2 Qg5+ 28. Kf3 Qe3+ 29. Kg2 Re6 30. Qc8+ Re8 31. Qc4+ Re6 32. Rf3 Qd2+ 33. Rf2 Qe3 34. Rd1 Kf7 35. Rd7+ Kg8 36. b4 Qe4+ 37. Qxe4 Rxe4 38. b5 Rb4 39. Rb2 Ra4 40. Rxa7 Rxa7 41. b6 Rb7 42. a4 Kf7 43. a5 Ke6 44. a6 Rd7 45. b7 Rd1 46. b8=Q Ra1 47. Qb6+ Ke5 48. a7 Kf5 49. Qb7 Ke6 50. a8=Q Rxa8 51. Qxa8 Ke5 52. Qa5+ Ke4 53. Rb4+ Kd3 54. Qa3+ Kd2 55. Rb2+ Ke1 56. Qa1# 1-0

Reetika had worked at Ann Taylor. I had forgotten that. It made sense at the time. Her poetry for me was about burnishing surfaces--rubbing them over and over until they shone, and then even going a little bit farther, until the enamel was worn off. Just a little bit. (But maybe not enough?) She was a sharp dresser and also sharp. In all senses of that word. She admitted to me once (with no shame or qualms) that she used to write in her cover letters that her poems weren't simulatenously submitted, even when they were...simultaneously submitted. That's the rub. Tactically brilliant, but strategically? In terms of keeping oneself hale? I don't know. I don't claim to speak for her, really. Or maybe even about her. It was a relatively long time ago. "I couldn't memoir my way out of a paper bag." Someone in my novel said that. More useless gestures shine.

John Lennon's lost weekend

is a Giant Ant that dissolves in Water, emits Ultrasonic Screams, moves at Great Speed, and has four Extra Limbs.

Strength: 6 Agility: 10 Intelligence: 6

To see if your Giant Battle Monster can
defeat John Lennon's lost weekend, enter your name and choose an attack:

fights John Lennon's lost weekend using



Because popular gestures engender quarks of scope and sweep. And incomprehensible "acts" of "literature" blended or fused with said popular gestures can increase depths from slants and cube thought. Breaking it down to indivisible particles, anyway, it's all populism. Or all completely obscured. For me, and maybe for others too, it's (experimental?) poetry and speculative/fabulist fiction that foregrounds these concerns most bewilderingly, and gains its tensile strengths from the very acts of giving the reader little familiar to hold onto.


Because sometimes it's a little grouse on the sill, and sometimes a feather.


I mean, not even Squeeze necessitated the type of abject treatment he still receives.

And give me Doug Yule instead of John Cale any day, why thank you.

Now that I think about it, the bridge and chorus of "Pour Some Sugar on Me" is more bracing and honest than 75 percent of indie rock. Or something like that.


Hold onto a thought too long and you can break it, like a promise. Like fish, they need continual submersion.


More poems from the palimpsest/Alex Pope exercise.

Garbs with Country Old Words of testament

Have made Ancients in their Sense! Amaze th'Fungoso

In the Sparks with Vanity displayed Yesterday!

All their troubles seemed so far away

With Wit’s Grandsires their trick or apple treat

In Words, Fantastick some, too New, or Old;

If Chrystal screams with pleasing Murmurs creep,

Innocence threaten’d the Couples fraught

With some unmeaning Thing they call a Thought,

A needle ends the Song as a crenulated Snake

Drags its slow length along languishingly slow

And praise the Easie Vigor of its Line of diamond slither

Where Eve's Strength and Adam's Sweetness join.

In connubial joy from Art, not Chance,

As those move easiest who have learn’d to dance,

They spin their sin around their web of trance.

The Sound must seem an Eccho high in heaven

While loud surges thrash on Eden's barren floor.

Elizabeth Weir

Rachel Harvieux

Sarah LR Conbere


Most true mettle
check his course
rules of old devis'd
she Methodiz'd
nature liberty
herself ordained
repress indulge
high on top
arduous paths they trod
afar aloft
equal steps to rise
precepts examples
fanned the poet's fire
taught admire
Muse's handmaid
dress her charms
make her more belov'd
intention stray'd
win the mistress
woo the maid
against the poets
sure to
hate pothecaryes
hate doctor's bills
hate doctor's parts
bold in th epractice
of mistaken rules
prescribe apply
call their master's fools
leaves prey
moths they
some soma
dryly plain
invention's aid
write dull poems
leave the sense
display behind
explain meaning quite away
judgement steer
each character
fable, subject, page
genius eyes
genius eyes
cavil never criticize
study delight
day night
muses peruses
the mantuan muse
young Maro in
his boundless Mind
outlast immortal
Rome design'd

Jules Nyquist & Char Baehr