a grouse with completely feathered feet


"Self-publishing is only for when you can't wait for your friends to put your stuff out, when you don't trust your friends to do it right, or when you simply have no friends." --David Larsen (from "Symptom of the Universe")

How great is this? I'm listening to Prince's "Pop Life" (from Around the World in a Day, reached #7 btw), and notice sometime after the second verse the slightest sliver, just for a second or two, of a disco bass line. In 1985. My God. What's the matter with your life, is the poverty bringing u down?

Need to get Tusk.

Then what of the boat?
Those things we hear
that are so high above us--
we live like mice
in a huge theater
trembling at the rumble of inconceivable voices,
tramp of unimaginable footsteps
pounding at the immense stage.
What do we know?
How little we know even how little we know.
Sometimes it's the Cynic has the sweetest tongue,
is nicest, is named
for a dog & like one
fawns on critical attention, puppies rump-up
for our O.K.
Like mice or rats we live
nice but small, energetic,
sexy, industrious, asleep.
The bruising weight of consciousness
soon shrugged off.
Then a siren wakes us
to the dangerous nature of We sleep--
how precious human life,
that triple-founded three-light thing!
The siren howls it down.

(from The Cruise of the Pynx, Robert Kelly)


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