I ate my way through Williamsburg
And wrote about it here.
BLIZARDO
Beth (dot) Lizardo (at) gmail (dot) com
And somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
And somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
Aug 08
Jul 29
“Maisie exists in the gap of what is said and what is meant”
Been away a while and not much has changed. And everything is changing. And now I’m reading this.
Jul 08
More Creeley
The truth is in a container
of no size or situation.
It has nothing
inside.
Worship—
Warship. Sail away.
—From “Clemente’s Images”
Jul 07
Jun 29
I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy myself, but I didn’t.
HEY YA’LL. IT’S WOODY ALLEN WEEK AT THIS RECORDING. click it.
Jun 28
Joan Miró: L Oro dell Azzurro, 1935
“Tiny forms in huge empty spaces”
Today is Sunday. Here's a Poem.
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
spawning snow and pink roses against it
soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think.
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
a tangerine and spit the pips and feel
the drunkenness of things being various.
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
is more spiteful and gay than one supposes—
on the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one’s
hands—
there is more than the glass between the snow and the huge roses.
[“Snow,” Louis MacNeice]
Jun 25
Every morning they gathered in front of Contrada’s in their jean cut-offs, worn t-shirts, and spotless white running shoes. Albert was the only one who drank the coffee, so he always claimed the small table in the corner while the others were obliged to pretend that they didn’t mind standing with the sun beating down on their shoulders and the tourists bumping into them as they passed. They raised their voices and gestured liberally when emphasizing a point. And later, when their wives asked them what the boys had to say today, they had already forgotten what it was that always seemed to mean so much.
Jun 24
Pretty damn boss-y
Jun 23
Rain Train
This incessant rain seems more tolerable now that it’s reached its third day of life, and I’ve broken out all my rainy day rituals: coffee, jazz music, writing. Two out of three of these activities are a part of my everyday life regardless of the weather, but they always seem a little bit more forced under normal circumstances. Conclusion? Must move to a gray city in order to be more productive.
