Monday, December 8, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Oblique Strategy
RETRACE YOUR STEPS
I'm assembling photographs, touching fire
to film, touching fist to table. My grandmother &
her tank, my grandfather's snow beard, my endlessly
purple face, the perpetual canteen, the hint of a knife
in the water. The trampling of cows.
Filled with fluid, the problem of history. In science,
edema. Fear like a wet balloon, collapsed & frothy.
The piano sinks in the corner, sullen & ashy. The keys
have seen failure, have seen the blood seep through
the floorboards, a portrait of grief. I touch flame
to wood, fist to brick.
I'm assembling photographs, touching fire
to film, touching fist to table. My grandmother &
her tank, my grandfather's snow beard, my endlessly
purple face, the perpetual canteen, the hint of a knife
in the water. The trampling of cows.
Filled with fluid, the problem of history. In science,
edema. Fear like a wet balloon, collapsed & frothy.
The piano sinks in the corner, sullen & ashy. The keys
have seen failure, have seen the blood seep through
the floorboards, a portrait of grief. I touch flame
to wood, fist to brick.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Oblique Strategy
TAKE AWAY THE IMPORTANT PARTS
No grandfather or wine. No kings. Nothing even resembling a song. Only a blanket and the sea. Only the threat of something righteous contained within pork. A pie slowly congealing on the windowsill. Communal knowledge.
The remainder of the equation never equals the sum of its parts. It cannot be helped, the grandfather & his faded hat. The wrinkled hands as they caressed pork fat & pickle juice. The thought of faded royalty. Tininess. The word for something being small.
No grandfather or wine. No kings. Nothing even resembling a song. Only a blanket and the sea. Only the threat of something righteous contained within pork. A pie slowly congealing on the windowsill. Communal knowledge.
The remainder of the equation never equals the sum of its parts. It cannot be helped, the grandfather & his faded hat. The wrinkled hands as they caressed pork fat & pickle juice. The thought of faded royalty. Tininess. The word for something being small.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Oblique Strategy
REMEMBER QUIET EVENINGS
Jesus, that was horrible. The blood still hasn't come out.
& nobody has talked to Uncle Jesse since.
Jesus, that was horrible. The blood still hasn't come out.
& nobody has talked to Uncle Jesse since.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Oblique Strategy
HOW WOULD YOU HAVE DONE IT?
With whiskey and the promise of sin. With feet
& a snow shovel. With grandfather's oil &
a burning lamp. With need. With a solid
left hook. With something resembling a plan.
With a ramshackle van & hand grenade. With
my arms around Castro. With the world's
biggest sack race. Let me tell you about
this sack race--it involves everybody. We
block off the ocean with cones & reform
Pangea through sheer will. Then, at the
drop of Churchill's black hat, we begin.
Elbow & teeth, broken nose & torn burlap.
The struggle is epic. Lives are lost. Nations
are reformed around championship heroes.
That's how we build culture. That's how
we get down.
With whiskey and the promise of sin. With feet
& a snow shovel. With grandfather's oil &
a burning lamp. With need. With a solid
left hook. With something resembling a plan.
With a ramshackle van & hand grenade. With
my arms around Castro. With the world's
biggest sack race. Let me tell you about
this sack race--it involves everybody. We
block off the ocean with cones & reform
Pangea through sheer will. Then, at the
drop of Churchill's black hat, we begin.
Elbow & teeth, broken nose & torn burlap.
The struggle is epic. Lives are lost. Nations
are reformed around championship heroes.
That's how we build culture. That's how
we get down.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)