a hardener of suits

(via @Biffo183)

"The unheard drop of leaves furnishing the world" --Rosalie Moore

The privatization of hope.

Funnelclouds ring our horizon
Smileyface morons hold court
inbetween orange & white barrels weaving
Chased by the drone named
Open Your Eyes &

Sea of bad dreams without ending
Desert of senseless spillth
Inbetween orange & white barrels wending
Seeking the jackpot
Buying back all we've

Tossed on the waves of a wildfire
Lost in the stars is one stone
Inbetween orange & white barrels standing
Some of us crawl
Some of us not even that

"... the basic argument has been used by philosophers to attack not only moral realism but Platonism about mathematics, presentism about time, realist views of color perception, conservative accounts of ordinary objects, and on and on."

"The rite baptismal in the cleansing wave" --Hoole's Ariosto

(via Laura E Ostteen on Fb)

"stealing alms from a riddle of meager yards"

hellokittysburg

Louis Wain tattoos.

(in ecuador, via tom clark blog)

"When we listen like a mirror, present, with the mind thoughtless and calm, like the surface of a windless lake, another layer begins to emerge that really can only be described as indescribable. If music is created in this spirit, it will facilitate us passing through the mirror to the world of the double."

Writing a great poem is like getting struck by lightning. Most of the time you're just standing in a muddy field getting wet.

(via)

"Deadlines are like hot lava. They keep you moving forward but they make everything less fun." --@ThatDumbDude via @KameronHurley

"For the global middle classes, writing a book will increasingly become the equivalent of Victorian accomplishment culture–everyone, if you recall, had to be able to sing a bit, play an instrument, ride a horse, paint watercolours, whatever. The dancing masters & music teachers scraped a living out of it.."

Misangelance of the negative annunciation.

How can you just leave me standing?

feeling left out
seeking my own cancerdeath
my own bad ending

why do i think it's not here
on the way in good time
shadowing me in daylight

& in darkness
as if anyone were to be
left out

as if anyone were to be
left alone

Ani DiFranco: When Doves Cry.

mercury lair

("five bells" by john olsen)

Bugsplat.

      "Evening Hawk"

From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through
Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds,
Out of the peak’s black angularity of shadow, riding
The last tumultuous avalanche of
Light above pines and the guttural gorge,
The hawk comes.
      His wing
Scythes down another day, his motion
Is that of the honed steel-edge, we hear
The crashless fall of stalks of Time.

The head of each stalk is heavy with the gold of our error.

Look! Look! he is climbing the last light
Who knows neither Time nor error, and under
Whose eye, unforgiving, the world, unforgiven, swings
Into shadow.

      Long now,
The last thrush is still, the last bat
Now cruises in his sharp hieroglyphics. His wisdom
Is ancient, too, and immense. The star
Is steady, like Plato, over the mountain.

If there were no wind we might, we think, hear
The earth grind on its axis, or history
Drip in darkness like a leaking pipe in the cellar."

--Robert Penn Warren

My year of horrible reading.

"I watch the rain collapse like the frame of a stolen painting" --Kim Yideum, Cheer Up Femme Fatale (tr Lee, Choi, Goransson, 2016)

Eno's favs.

(ludgate hill, 1926 via @GreatestCapital)

Doreen Valiente at Bletchley Park.

glibbernost

(via)

"No, they haven't been hiding their money. They've been hiding ours. By calling it theirs. #panamapapers" --NeinQuarterly

Interactive fold-in feature.

"Here nothing is accidental, every single element has a purpose, a meaning, all reflective of an intensely personalised cosmography." --Strange Flowers blog (via feuilleton)

“The authors of London were formerly computed by Swift at several thousands, and there is not any reason for suspecting that their number has decreased. Of these only a few can be said to produce, or endeavor to produce new ideas, to extend any principle of science, or gratify the imagination with any uncommon train of images or contexture of events; the rest, however laborious, however arrogant, can only be considered as the drudges of the pen, the manufacturers of literature, who have set up for authors, either with or without a regular initiation, and, like other artificers, have no other care than to deliver their tale of wares at the stated time.” --Samuel Johnson, in The Rambler

Thirteen novels on the edge of horror.

"dice are made fierce by fate" --Javant Biarujia

A new Roll of the Dice.

(via)

hitomi fujiko

(artist's conception of the planet Janssen, via scientific american)

But this land
It is empty
I am the only one left

I can't even feel pain
What happened to them
Why are they empty

But even still
You are innocent

maudlin squint quip

(the Cherry Blossom Viscount, via @AcidEater_Fusao

Map of Janssen.

"You have to read the unchosen poems to understand the chosen poems." --Nicholson Baker

The curious history of Tate's Lear with a happy ending.

"Before Man goes to the stars he should learn how to live on Earth." --Clifford Simak, Time and Again (1951)

Reincarnate as music.

"The first implement made by man was not a scraper or celt or stone knife. It was a crutch" - R. A. Lafferty via @PetterMalmberg

Quantum spin liquid.