That's Just the Beginnings of Synergy

I've been thinking about this one since the war started, so figured I'd post it because the fucking insanity will never, ever stop.

am i doing any of this life right?

Outbreaks:

i search for god but the sun is a penny.

looper moths form halos beneath the streetlamps.

summer’s ghostly curtains. check the weather.

haze. i search for god but the moon is gone.

i search for comfort, and the eels come.

they cross my meadow every twilight,

up to seven feet in length, traversing

mountain napes with open eager mouths.

the fires heaved them from the rivers,

now they curve themselves across

the precipice of life, toward black oceans.

haunted yellow eyes. looper moths

become a gentle cloud. i become an eel,

then rethink it. i cough. reveal a wet moth.

some gray little heart. it’s all hazy now.

pale as sunbleached wood, i go forth.

in a slant of moonlight, i search for comfort.

the neon 24-hour fried chicken sign

gleams behind the pines.

i crawl in the moss. it is easy to find god.

she is a cluster of eels beneath my palms.

i ask of her, am i doing any of this life right?

and she, with her many mouths,

says nothing.

Kitchen McKeown.

MAHA

If you got the money, honey, we got your disease.

I'm So Tired

Quatrain of the Body's Sleep:

I lure sleep. I bait sleep in with my white throat.
I pretend to be asleep. Then everything happens at once.
Sleep wraps me round in his dim coat;
I weep; you leap from your corner and dance.

Annie Dillard.

#throwbackthursday

Missing this schnozz.  (2020)

Everyone knows about it

From the King of England to the Hounds of Hell.

FX

It Must Be Done with Mirrors:

It must be done with mirrors
my head that rests on nothing in mid-air.

Where is my body
where oh where?

I can see the stones
hidden in the hands.

O bring back my body to me, to me,
O miracle bring it back
before the mirrors break.

Maya Deren.

My Current Workflow

Don't ask.

We are ready for the siege

We are armed up to the teeth.

Not Unlike AI

EX MACHINA:

My word processor does not know Shakespeare.
It balks at ripeness, stops me at Othello
and Desdemona. They are not
in its vocabulary. On the other hand
it does not question arrogance and power,
accepts betrayal, jealousy and grief,
uncomprehending. They are on the list.

I am reminded of the face
of the young killer on the screen
the other night. He knew the words
gun and crime and prison.
He even knew the word guilty,
but when he said it, his eyes were blank.

Lisel Mueller.

AI Could Never Recreate This

The things you say: your purple prose just give you away.

PS - Tell me James Atkin doesn't look like Joseph Nagle, Carpenter's Mate on HMS Surprise.

Who Am I Thinking of Right Now?

Epitaph for an Enemy:

You ask, "What sort of man
Was this?"
                    —No worthier than
A pendulum which makes
Between its left and right
Involuntary arcs,
Proving from morn to night
No contact anywhere
With human or sublime—
A punctual tick, a mere
Accessory of Time.

His leaden act was done,
He stopt, and Time went on.

Cecil Day-Lewis.

Well, I Didn’t Make the Pancakes, but Yeah, We Had Pancakes

"After it was all over, he took us in the house and served us pancakes."


PS - no, really.

men, worship your women this way

Scenes in the life of a lesser angel:

I borrow wings from other angels, coast

the streets to find feathers loosely attached

to slender silver ties. With care, I close the catch

and fasten cardboard stiffened form so close

I cannot breathe or fly for the air

pushed out into a world in masquerade.

I am African. I am goddess with flare

sounding the trumpets. I call out God.

Meaning changes like sea water in storm.

I part the crowds until, beaten, my wings

fly, fall, litter the streets. I cradle the newborn

twins and realize that I am fallen,

a lesser angel, wingless and depressed.

I am seductress unpetaled, undressed.

Raina J. León.