Moving to Western Mass and still not sure why. Going to fall in with the punk scene, read Ted Berrigan’s Collected Poems all summer while drinking Pepsi, ashing cigarettes in a glass ash tray perched on my stomach, and pretending all of my friends will come visit me. It’s gonna’ be a good time.
New words up for you, rather old words, new place:
http://plainchina.bennington.edu/vol3/pieces/i-will-send-you-this/
I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare or if I was even calling it the right thing when my vision began to pixilate in the dark forest, or a bed room. Suddenly I had been given something viral from the executives where I work. A kind of wonder drug. A particularly caustic friend of mine had transmitted the virus to me and as it began to set in, my field of vision became a cloud of all things mediated: text, tickers, headlines, newsfeeds. It was the end of information, it was too much information, it was all things nefarious and all the while pointing me toward my singularity. I was dying. Very seriously dying. When I came to [post-nightmare], I was worried that I had experienced a reality—the result, some sort of blindness, some sort of schizophrenic episode, tinnitus, an empty house and the only time I have feared the absence of my parents while staying at home. What I can make of this is that the stresses of excess have left me petulant. Every good effort is precluded by several sinewy forces in the lattice-work. A nightmare is never at rest. There is always slippage.
Sleep. No. Sleep.
I am trying new things. 10 situps. 20 pushups. One bottle of water. 89 seeds planted.
A text book told me that abstraction is the teasing out of details. Abstraction is more a process of extraction than illogic.
Fiction makes you social.
A friend and I are having a rap battle and unfortunately with the internet and all you can see it unfold.
Somedays seem like the last day, and that’s not even a statement of melancholy.
A poem gets published. Terrific.
Watched the ocean this week. It is now a spectator sport.
When rain drops cease to keep falling they become rain stops.
There is a lot of sun, enough of it, so relax and think long and hard about that iced beverage you have been wanting all day.
Open up a window and fart.
I think you might love this. Saturday, March 24th!
Poem menu.
Peep these poets. They are reading. Where I live. And. It is very exciting! Feb. 25th! goodneighborseries: Wendy’s most recent publication: http://interrupture.com/archives/feb_2012/wendy_xu/ Catch Ted’s latest here: http://ilkjournal.com/journal/issue-two/ted-powers/ Sprinkle some Mark on that: http://www.thermosmag.com/poetry/leidner.html
The Latest From the Greatest
Saw this at the Walker in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Important.
