Monday, September 10, 2007

the last thing i wrote by hand.


a canal underground: a trump
forging like quelling
one should this only
a drink gumming him false

this word you are guessing
fixture here folded right

low crawl in the drawers
now slag
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1 comment:

judy j said...

reading:

We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families.
(Philip Gourevitch)

Blue Mars
(Kim Stanley Robinson)

An American Childhood
(Annie Dillard)

Strong Motion
(Jonathan Franzen)

The end of the story
(Lydia Davis)

Alias Grace
(Margaret Atwood)

The Brothers Karamazov
(F.D.)

The Portrait of a Lady
(Henry James)

The Voyage of the Beagle
(Charles Darwin)


writing:

migraines and airplanes

i haven't told you yet about the carnival tour, that once-a-year visit to houston and sacramento, where tornadoes and thunderstorms shut down the midway when federal agents weren't doing it. we set up bumper boats and machine-gun games soon after twin towers crashed, and john told me that the los angeles show was completely shut down by the time september 12th dawned on the west coast. i've often suspected that he was a wanted felon, though, with the way he didn't want his picture taken, so that may not be his real name, but i trust his stories as far as he could throw his hat, which was pretty far, especially in the astrodome, where dylan played in purple velvet and hurricane refugees sat and waited, shat and wailed, while relief went to those who could afford flood insurance. i was standing waist-deep in still waters while the skies swirled, and we weren't selling any tickets, so i quit that job, too, and went to san francisco before malnutrition emaciated me further, but that's telling too many secrets.


on with awkward dialogues!

4:26 PM

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