Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
Scraps
We get our first moral ideas
About the world — about justice and power,
Gender and the order of things — from somewhere.
+ Robert Hass, “The World As Will and Representation”
#1
the potent warmth that walks the edges of misunderstanding:
where it’s true for a moment, whatever it is, the moment
you say it: and then the impossibility of permanent care: embracing
each other like the plump cells of a Pomello, grown for it and bound
to split: panting a little, I give in the presence of him: blunt:
as a left hand hits the pajama at my thigh, and crosses under
#2
a tug on my heart-line arrives as a face: invasion: experience
magnified by its limits: take the way these people move together:
and this man again who could always induce the most base
commitment, securing me despite fidelity: there is no quality control
to this, no quaint instant to blame: no lack of hesitation, but for
a scent, the absent pressure of sand: and again the contest: moot
#3
conceding the risk involved in this public square does not account
for the fact that the man's hunting knife: the one with the serrated edge:
sits a gentle stretch away: each impulse we act on unravels with time:
I sympathize with Republicans because I genuinely want to understand
the state we’re in: I am willing: even as he speaks the word love, smitten
with the deviance of it all: he speaks and speaks, and I am “out there”
About the world — about justice and power,
Gender and the order of things — from somewhere.
+ Robert Hass, “The World As Will and Representation”
#1
the potent warmth that walks the edges of misunderstanding:
where it’s true for a moment, whatever it is, the moment
you say it: and then the impossibility of permanent care: embracing
each other like the plump cells of a Pomello, grown for it and bound
to split: panting a little, I give in the presence of him: blunt:
as a left hand hits the pajama at my thigh, and crosses under
#2
a tug on my heart-line arrives as a face: invasion: experience
magnified by its limits: take the way these people move together:
and this man again who could always induce the most base
commitment, securing me despite fidelity: there is no quality control
to this, no quaint instant to blame: no lack of hesitation, but for
a scent, the absent pressure of sand: and again the contest: moot
#3
conceding the risk involved in this public square does not account
for the fact that the man's hunting knife: the one with the serrated edge:
sits a gentle stretch away: each impulse we act on unravels with time:
I sympathize with Republicans because I genuinely want to understand
the state we’re in: I am willing: even as he speaks the word love, smitten
with the deviance of it all: he speaks and speaks, and I am “out there”
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
THE BEST OF VIA DI RUSCIANO 7
For those 4 special ex-flatmates.
1. “I would eat a cat named chocolate.” (V—)
2. “CATHOLICS???” (M—)
3. L—: “If you can’t ask that then you shouldn’t be having sex!”
C—: “But it SAYS gelato…”
4. If a man comes to your front door saying he is conducting a survey and he asks you to show him your boobs… DO NOT SHOW HIM YOUR BOOBS! This is a SCAM, and he is only trying to SEE YOUR BOOBS. I wish I had heard about this before yesterday. I feel so stupid. (C.B., via K—)
5. “I don’t think pimps go to graduate school.” (L—)
6. “I like cows, just not what the nuns do to them.” (V—)
7. “I mean, everyone’s so va bene!” (M—)
8. Vittorio (aka “The Man From Milan”): “Are you tired?”
K—: “No, just upside down.”
C/o Carnivale
9. Random Stranger: “Sono inamorato di te!”
L—: “Have fun with that.”
10. “My ear is juicing.” (V— di Milo)
11. “I have a real big head.” (Versimilitude)
12. “I have a soft spot for Rastafarians, what can I say?” (K—)
13. “WHY, FRENCHMAN, WHY???” (V—)
14. “Those are, if you will, the proverbial BOMB.” (V—, on X)*
* wouldn’t you like to know!
15. “Imbracciami, V—… imbracciami…” (Il Pagliaccio)
16. “Kiss me! Kiss me!” (Il Tigre)
17. “Have sex with me! Have sex with me!” (The Monk, while bouncing giddily)
18. “No thanks, I don’t do bestiality.” (K—, while standing quite still)
19. “I kind of wanna wear this bone in my hair.” (V—)
20. “I SO could have eaten donkey today!” (V—)
21. “Here! Kick me with my own leg!” (The Guy With The Prosthesis)
22. “A Venetian Philosophical Dilemma: can there ever really be two DIFFERENT generic animals?” (K—)
23. “I dreamt my pants were not as they should be.” (V—)
24. “It’s I dream of I Jeans, starring… Il Francese!” (K—)
25. “There will be NO inter-special copulation!” (K—)
26. “It’s like Cinderella gone wrong!” (L—, on X, which is not the same as the previous "X")
27. “HOLD THE PHONE!!!” (Tutti a Carnevale)
And back at the house…
28. “V—, why do you keep calling me mommy?” (L—)
29. “Oatmeal and I should get married.” (V—)
30. “He’s like, part organic sweetheart, part Italian stallion.” (M—)
31. “I’m going to take a shower now instead of marinating in my own dirtiness.” (M—)
32. “You’re insane! We should put glass walls around you and pay to look at you!” (V—, on K—)
33. “I can do people no problem, but give me an apple and I’m screwed.” (K—, on sketching you pervert)
34. The Ballad of Il Francese
V—, V—, short and wry —
Laughed at Benjie and made him cry —
And wail at her as she passed him by —
WHY, FRENCHMAN, WHY???
(L— & K—, inspired by Cecily)
35. “Age ain’t nothin’ but a numBA!” (M—)
36. “Don’t worry — I’ll be your gay men.” (K—)
37. “The landing was none too smooth.” (J—, as Daria)
38. "BACK up the BUS!” (M—)
39. “O — you’re Korean? I’m sorry!” (Linda)
40. “I would LOVE a hollow leg.” (K—)
41. “MARIA (pronounced MAH-REE-AH)! I just fucked a girl named MAH-REE-AH!” (V—)
42. “DFI!!!” (L—)
43. “A dried fruit convention in disguise.” (K—)
44. “OK — first I smite them, and then you smite them.” (L—)
45. “Should I smite them?” (K—)
46. “Do you want to get high and make out?” (Yuri)
47. “Curried mustard leaves… c’mon guys, basta already.” (M—)
48. “And I’ll play the bagpipes for it and then it’ll surely bite me..” (V—, on her future Scottie dog)
49. “Too bad they don’t have a mouth chastity belt. I mean HELLO…” (V—)
50. “That’s better than getting cut by a bagel!” (V—)
51. “Thou shalt get thy groove on.” (Um...?)
52. “If that guy’s name is Jesus I’m going to kill myself.” (K—)
53. “M—, would you PLEASE put on the elephant?” (V—)
And for good-measure, C—'s grocery store/foil-top Tiramisu incident deserves at LEAST a mention...
1. “I would eat a cat named chocolate.” (V—)
2. “CATHOLICS???” (M—)
3. L—: “If you can’t ask that then you shouldn’t be having sex!”
C—: “But it SAYS gelato…”
4. If a man comes to your front door saying he is conducting a survey and he asks you to show him your boobs… DO NOT SHOW HIM YOUR BOOBS! This is a SCAM, and he is only trying to SEE YOUR BOOBS. I wish I had heard about this before yesterday. I feel so stupid. (C.B., via K—)
5. “I don’t think pimps go to graduate school.” (L—)
6. “I like cows, just not what the nuns do to them.” (V—)
7. “I mean, everyone’s so va bene!” (M—)
8. Vittorio (aka “The Man From Milan”): “Are you tired?”
K—: “No, just upside down.”
C/o Carnivale
9. Random Stranger: “Sono inamorato di te!”
L—: “Have fun with that.”
10. “My ear is juicing.” (V— di Milo)
11. “I have a real big head.” (Versimilitude)
12. “I have a soft spot for Rastafarians, what can I say?” (K—)
13. “WHY, FRENCHMAN, WHY???” (V—)
14. “Those are, if you will, the proverbial BOMB.” (V—, on X)*
* wouldn’t you like to know!
15. “Imbracciami, V—… imbracciami…” (Il Pagliaccio)
16. “Kiss me! Kiss me!” (Il Tigre)
17. “Have sex with me! Have sex with me!” (The Monk, while bouncing giddily)
18. “No thanks, I don’t do bestiality.” (K—, while standing quite still)
19. “I kind of wanna wear this bone in my hair.” (V—)
20. “I SO could have eaten donkey today!” (V—)
21. “Here! Kick me with my own leg!” (The Guy With The Prosthesis)
22. “A Venetian Philosophical Dilemma: can there ever really be two DIFFERENT generic animals?” (K—)
23. “I dreamt my pants were not as they should be.” (V—)
24. “It’s I dream of I Jeans, starring… Il Francese!” (K—)
25. “There will be NO inter-special copulation!” (K—)
26. “It’s like Cinderella gone wrong!” (L—, on X, which is not the same as the previous "X")
27. “HOLD THE PHONE!!!” (Tutti a Carnevale)
And back at the house…
28. “V—, why do you keep calling me mommy?” (L—)
29. “Oatmeal and I should get married.” (V—)
30. “He’s like, part organic sweetheart, part Italian stallion.” (M—)
31. “I’m going to take a shower now instead of marinating in my own dirtiness.” (M—)
32. “You’re insane! We should put glass walls around you and pay to look at you!” (V—, on K—)
33. “I can do people no problem, but give me an apple and I’m screwed.” (K—, on sketching you pervert)
34. The Ballad of Il Francese
V—, V—, short and wry —
Laughed at Benjie and made him cry —
And wail at her as she passed him by —
WHY, FRENCHMAN, WHY???
(L— & K—, inspired by Cecily)
35. “Age ain’t nothin’ but a numBA!” (M—)
36. “Don’t worry — I’ll be your gay men.” (K—)
37. “The landing was none too smooth.” (J—, as Daria)
38. "BACK up the BUS!” (M—)
39. “O — you’re Korean? I’m sorry!” (Linda)
40. “I would LOVE a hollow leg.” (K—)
41. “MARIA (pronounced MAH-REE-AH)! I just fucked a girl named MAH-REE-AH!” (V—)
42. “DFI!!!” (L—)
43. “A dried fruit convention in disguise.” (K—)
44. “OK — first I smite them, and then you smite them.” (L—)
45. “Should I smite them?” (K—)
46. “Do you want to get high and make out?” (Yuri)
47. “Curried mustard leaves… c’mon guys, basta already.” (M—)
48. “And I’ll play the bagpipes for it and then it’ll surely bite me..” (V—, on her future Scottie dog)
49. “Too bad they don’t have a mouth chastity belt. I mean HELLO…” (V—)
50. “That’s better than getting cut by a bagel!” (V—)
51. “Thou shalt get thy groove on.” (Um...?)
52. “If that guy’s name is Jesus I’m going to kill myself.” (K—)
53. “M—, would you PLEASE put on the elephant?” (V—)
And for good-measure, C—'s grocery store/foil-top Tiramisu incident deserves at LEAST a mention...
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Spelling ( ) Bound — TAKE TWO
I've just received new pics, so here's a second announcement:
Spelling ( ) Bound (Ellectrique Press 2008) — a poetic collaboration between Cara Benson, Kai Fierle-Hedrick, and Kathrin Schaeppi — is now available in a limited, first edition. To purchase please see the press website: www.ellectriquepress.com.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 06, 2008
Montreal, Communiqué
It was love, after all,
that everybody was talking about
and nobody gave a shit for.
— John Ashbery, “Come On, Dear”
Of course it was raining and of course we were in a train
station in a scene so unlike these salted streets which are,
in turn, so unlike the heat that steamed the midsummer
I tend to associate with romance; that man bought
a basket of cadmium-coloured cherries off a grocer's
stoop. Here it is the coldest month of the year and fires
are raging in Australia. "Stay and fight," asserts the CBC,
"or get the hell out." But it was raining and drops struck us
like deep insomnia; even my eyes were wet. I quoted something
on red-lights and soaked pavement, a favorite trope,
and you were inscrutable or I was inscrutable. You see,
it’s vexing, this image of you: your spastic cleanliness,
sweet aphasia, motion: and addles me. Similarly, I found
myself quite perturbed at how morning bled into noon and after
hours of trekking foreign lanes respite was a pub, a crossed
leg and a pint. The topic was Iraq; our voices spiked and
eyes flared. Audibly, we were no locals. When dusk strikes
some say the world is drained of light; it speeds through
each and every perforation we've punched in our days
and this, dear reader, is a paper doily, cut through and through.
Months ago, you quote: "what poetry makes nothing happen?"
In the station, you let your bike fall to the platform; we stood
still; the p.a. system announced a departure. For every action
a butterfly flaps its wings. "Even in England," the radio reports,
"they feel the chill." Prohibition breeds popularity, but does this
fetch space or frequency? I digress. The clouds flush.
The payoff? I am missing you not as a Greek might his half-
hermaphrodite, but how a woman misses the era of a man,
what silhouette he brings the air and his split
second so different from her own. Art is revolution. So what.
I went dizzy with light, ditched the migrant eye. "To live,"
I declared that night, "with the grace of Titian's end: hooked,
and pushing blind." The gesture made, the work position-
less. Precocious as all hell. Monsieur, I would kiss you now.
Montreal, 2003
that everybody was talking about
and nobody gave a shit for.
— John Ashbery, “Come On, Dear”
Of course it was raining and of course we were in a train
station in a scene so unlike these salted streets which are,
in turn, so unlike the heat that steamed the midsummer
I tend to associate with romance; that man bought
a basket of cadmium-coloured cherries off a grocer's
stoop. Here it is the coldest month of the year and fires
are raging in Australia. "Stay and fight," asserts the CBC,
"or get the hell out." But it was raining and drops struck us
like deep insomnia; even my eyes were wet. I quoted something
on red-lights and soaked pavement, a favorite trope,
and you were inscrutable or I was inscrutable. You see,
it’s vexing, this image of you: your spastic cleanliness,
sweet aphasia, motion: and addles me. Similarly, I found
myself quite perturbed at how morning bled into noon and after
hours of trekking foreign lanes respite was a pub, a crossed
leg and a pint. The topic was Iraq; our voices spiked and
eyes flared. Audibly, we were no locals. When dusk strikes
some say the world is drained of light; it speeds through
each and every perforation we've punched in our days
and this, dear reader, is a paper doily, cut through and through.
Months ago, you quote: "what poetry makes nothing happen?"
In the station, you let your bike fall to the platform; we stood
still; the p.a. system announced a departure. For every action
a butterfly flaps its wings. "Even in England," the radio reports,
"they feel the chill." Prohibition breeds popularity, but does this
fetch space or frequency? I digress. The clouds flush.
The payoff? I am missing you not as a Greek might his half-
hermaphrodite, but how a woman misses the era of a man,
what silhouette he brings the air and his split
second so different from her own. Art is revolution. So what.
I went dizzy with light, ditched the migrant eye. "To live,"
I declared that night, "with the grace of Titian's end: hooked,
and pushing blind." The gesture made, the work position-
less. Precocious as all hell. Monsieur, I would kiss you now.
Montreal, 2003
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