Friday, May 13, 2016

My Secret History

A cyclist went past and cleared his throat and spat a squirt of red betel juice at us, just missing Eden's dress. Eden did not see it as hostility. The man was just a bumpkin on a bike."
- Paul Theroux

Friday, May 06, 2016

I just googled our names and this came up

"those bodacious dudes have an excellent time playing games with death"


"by the end the only thing I wanted to know was how Wordsworth was going to help that poor soul with his asshole"

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

News from nowhere

Bit scary not having my team of poets to back me up on this one, Marty. Just me and the Chilean anti-poet and my indefatigable sloth.

Monday, April 18, 2016

A great image

Sometimes I think of my dad in the summer. He’s in the backyard sitting under the small leaf maple tree eating a hot dog with sauerkraut and watching the hummingbirds. They buzz across the suburban lawn shining in the sparkle of the sprinkler’s rainbow mist.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Monday, February 15, 2016

Translated a bit of Geoff

Canterbury Tales

When in April the kind showers fall
grooming March who was parched to the root and all,
filling every vein with the liquor and the power
to inject life therein and grow many flowers.
Zephyr, too gassy and bloated for words, blows
heathen gusts into every husk, every rusted heath,
while the tender crops, and the young sun,
middle-aged scum, sleeps —
and wired warblers
on through
the night with dead eyes open-wide.
(Coaxed by nature, we rampage lightly)
men and women-folk alike, palm-reading pilgrims,
reed-playing palmers, we long to go on long pilgrimages
to seek out new Strands and pay respect
to the old shrines well-known in distant lands,
from every shire's end
of England to Canterbury we go,
to find the great leader
and bliss-out our souls.

Friday, February 05, 2016

For Monday

Read "Bartleby the Scrivener" by Herman Melville. Pace yourself it's a long one. Also, it's kind of funny, so don't forget to laugh.