February 2012
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January 2012
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Salutation by Ezra Pound
O generation of the thoroughly smug and thoroughly uncomfortable, I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun, I have seen them with untidy families, I have seen their smiles full of teeth and heard ungainly laughter. And I am happier than you are, And they were happier than I am; And the fish swim in the lake and do not even own clothing.
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As Planned by Frank O'Hara
After the first glass of vodka you can accept just about anything of life even your own mysteriousness you think it is nice that a box of matches is purple and brown and is called La Petite and comes from Sweden for they are words that you know and that is all you know words not their feelings or what they mean and you write because you know them not because you understand them because you don’t...
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December 2011
7 posts
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The Improvement by John Ashbery
Is that where it happens? Only yesterday when I came back, I had this diaphanous disaffection for this room, for spaces, for the whole sky and whatever lies beyond. I felt the eggplant, then the rhubarb. Nothing seems strong enough for this life to manage, that sees beyond into particles forming some kind of entity? so we get dressed kindly, crazy at the moment. A life of afterwords begins.
We...
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November 2011
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Blues by Joseph Brodsky
Eighteen years I’ve spent in Manhattan. The landlord was good, but he turned bad. A scumbag, actually. Man, I hate him. Money is green, but it flows like blood.
I guess I’ve got to move across the river. New Jersey beckons with its sulphur glow. Say, numbered years are a lesser evil. Money is green, but it doesn’t grow.
I’ll take away my furniture, my old sofa. But what...
October 2011
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If by e.e. cummings
If freckles were lovely, and day was night, And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie, Life would be delight,— But things couldn’t go right For in such a sad plight I wouldn’t be I. If earth was heaven and now was hence, And past was present, and false was true, There might be some sense But I’d be in suspense For on such a pretense You...
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September 2011
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August 2011
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July 2011
10 posts
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The Thinker
“Everyone talks and talks,” he began. “I’m sick of it. I’ll do something, get into some kind of work where talk don’t count. Maybe I’ll be just a mechanic in a shop. I don’t know. I guess I don’t care much. I just want to work and keep quiet. That’s all I’ve got in my mind.”
Seth Richmond in Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio.
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The Fault Of It by Ezra Pound
Some may have blamed us that we cease to speak Of things we spoke of in our verses early, Saying: a lovely voice is such as such; Saying: that lady’s eyes were sad last week, Wherein the world’s whole joy is born and dies; Saying: she hath this way or that, this much Of grace, this way or that, this much Of grace, this little misericorde; Ask us no further word; If we were proud, then...
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June 2011
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