Diwan: A Wind

2012-01-26T14:01:00.000-08:00

(via Artificial Owl)

"Can Painting Be Saved?"

"He tried to explain that this Japanese monster movie [Ghidrah, the Three-Headed Monster (1964)] was actually a remake of the classic chick flick Roman Holiday (1953), both movies featuring a stylish princess visiting another country who meets a working-class protagonist who becomes sweet on her, although, despite having some adventures together, the two at the end must part..." --Thomas Pynchon, Inherent Vice (2009)

Fragments from a History of Ruin.
Atemporality and Ruin Porn. (via Metafilter) Which gave me this Spengler quote: "What does a cathedral dome or a bronze figure mean to us without the patina which transmutes the short-range brilliance into the tone of remoteness of time and place?"

"...executioners were allowed to marry only executioners' daughters and executioners' sons were forced to follow in the bloody footsteps of their fathers." --Angelo Rpiellino, Magic Prague (1973; 1994 tr.)

More. "Those pieces of the Berlin Wall that have been preserved are often those which are decorated with striking graffiti art or poignant messages in permanent ink. Someone standing in front of one of these recontextualised fragments, someone who was entirely ignorant of the aftermath of World War II, would be alerted that there was something remarkable about the slab of concrete in front of them by the way it was displayed, disembodied, outside a museum or a bank, but their experience of the Wall would be materially different from someone who was familiar with what the Berlin Wall meant in the quarter century between its construction and fall."

"We see now, as our forebears never could, where this overweening enterprise was leading--to the ruin of humankind, or of as much of humankind, at least, as has cast its lot with Biz. Civ. But a ruin, let us admit it, that is altogether fitting and proper, a thoroughly merited ruin, which we are obliged to inhabit as becomes decaying gentry. That is to say, with as much style as we can muster, with whatever pride we can still pretend to, and with, most importantly, a perfect nonchalance." --Thomas Disch, On Wings of Song (1979)

Qu'ran 16:9. "And Allah's is the direction of the way, and some (roads) go not straight. And had He willed He would have led you aright." (Pickthall)

Also, according to Bruce Sterling (1999): "If you want mail to get through to Turkish Cyprus, it should be fake-addressed to 'Mersin 10, Turkey.' "

2011-12-13T09:49:00.000-08:00

2011-12-13T07:45:00.001-08:00

2011-12-01T16:24:00.001-08:00

(via Lenin's Tomb)

2011-11-08T07:26:00.001-08:00

(via Mercury Today)

2011-11-03T16:00:00.000-07:00

2011-11-01T07:33:00.000-07:00

2011-10-04T07:11:00.000-07:00

pic by jl incrowd

2011-09-15T06:58:00.000-07:00

via livescience dot com

2011-09-07T10:45:00.000-07:00

At the American Embassy in London (thanx Chomsky!).

2011-08-30T11:11:00.000-07:00

photo by amajeru on panoramio dot com

2011-08-03T08:09:00.000-07:00

A Refusal to Anatomize Hauntology, By Fire, In a Belated Year

"The past is never dead. It's not even past." --Faulkner

Lapsang Souchong, Lojban 'smoke tea' DANMO TCATI, the most evocative of drinks (except maybe Laphroaig)--brings to mind the Steppes, & the Silk Road. A thousand years lost to historiography, to the annals of discrete nations, A language, a script, a syncretic religion now utterly forgotten, even as artifacts. The voice of erasure. Tannu Tuva (1921-1944).

Robot X: the first computer poetry on a par with our own. Will it destroy poetry-by-poets, at some future date? Or is it only the secret history of our own time? A scripture for the cognoscenti. Those hipsters of eclipse, in second-hand suits.

Hüzün. When we are done with this "empire" thing.

Ruth Welcome. Also The Third Man.

The Japanese visual kei (i say "clockpunk") band Versailles. Were you expecting Balam Acab?

Zarmina tourism. I still believe!

The Spasmodic School of Poetry. Beddoes. Don't bother, they already said it all.

On Becoming a Dodo. De te fabula narratur.

Westgate...which survived Katrina.

Ern Malley was one of us.

Croatoan. Gippius. Murnau. Tobey.

The Conqueror Worm (victor vermis). Sometime during the fifth or sixth Palin Administration.

"Totally disreputable," as Tim Harding says of 1. N-QR3, or irremeably compromised, like the abducteee-directed North Korean flick Pulgasari.

(via club Tokyo)

"1381.

I suppose the time will come
Aid it in the coming
When the Bird will crowd the Tree
And the Bee be booming

I suppose the time will come
Hinder it a little
When the Corn in Silk will dress
And in Chintz the Apple

I believe the Day will be
When the Jay will giggle
At his new white House the Earth
That, too, halt a little--"

(Emily Dickinson)

2011-08-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

via Mark Morb

2011-07-23T10:26:00.000-07:00

2011-07-19T08:05:00.001-07:00

via http://artforum.com/inprint/id=28338

2011-07-12T12:59:00.000-07:00

via kdotdammit.livejournal

2011-06-28T16:39:00.000-07:00

2011-06-15T13:43:00.000-07:00

(via)

2011-06-07T09:57:00.000-07:00

http://www.metafilter.com/104273/The-Ghost-of-Gullivers-Kingdom

2011-05-24T12:18:00.000-07:00

2011-05-10T10:44:00.000-07:00

2011-05-05T16:56:00.000-07:00

2011-04-19T08:57:00.000-07:00

2011-04-05T07:09:00.001-07:00

2011-03-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

(via http://tinyurl.com/48u67sp)

2011-03-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

2011-03-01T13:45:00.000-08:00

2011-02-17T07:20:00.001-08:00

2011-02-10T08:40:00.000-08:00

2011-01-31T11:56:00.000-08:00

2011-01-25T10:38:00.001-08:00

2011-01-20T13:47:00.000-08:00

2010-12-30T15:40:00.001-08:00

Bradley Manning's Facebook pic (via Wired)

the pathways of the earth,
under a pewter sky,
churn with the driven fry,
to no escape give birth.

i & my sort supply
solace of lesser worth
for those in travail who ply
the pathways of the earth.

(phrase by Bebop Deluxe, "Sister Seagull")

2010-12-09T18:22:00.000-08:00

a ship breaking up
one by one the things depart
axle broke somewhere west of Phoenix
the roads kept getting worse & worse
the farther out from the cities
what do i want with these souvenirs
of a world that hardly existed
even at the time
veteran
in a motorized wheelchair
legless in winter sunshine

2010-12-02T12:43:00.001-08:00

Mono Lake.

Though heat & light desert, i soldier on;
though demons cling like dirt, i soldier on.

The morning brings its insult & its ills,
the day but festers; girt, i soldier on.

No news but hideous triumph & despair's
idiotic blurt. I soldier on.

What would be plans in any other vale
here furnish fresh hurt: i soldier on.

The solace of the garden's gleaming fruits
finds Graywyvern inert... I soldier on.

2010-11-22T06:23:00.000-08:00

inner torments of
oversleep
in the bright cold air
of Algol's double planet

we have built roads there
for the floating cars
with glass domed roofs
that will come

just as soon as we beat
this debilitating disease
and after we conquer
the southern insurgency

2010-11-11T13:23:00.001-08:00

(via wood_s lot)

days of dread in flower
feet cold in sandals
hated figures appear in the news
gallows humor doesn't always work

turn the bread to look for mold
before there's any light
happy if nothing reminds you
happy if you haven't lost more

that was a luxury
this is a luxury
O let it all go

as you shuffle with the others
feet cold in sandals

2010-11-04T14:00:00.001-07:00

sadly eyes
don't delve

won't tell you
what you will have

wanted to know

2010-11-02T07:11:00.000-07:00

song of the many broken roads
celebrate celebrate

arroyo of lawyers
shell among shells

bloodstained cell on the floorboards
faded turquoise

in this cataract
not to think of it

broken runway
the water shines as of old

arroyo of low years
you cross & climb back out

quizzical no more
my beautiful little dolls

my shadow shifted
the way is prepared

2010-10-24T09:57:00.000-07:00

you do not follow Survive and Prosper
sound of a regular drip
huge mesh head glowing there

planet retrograde to its double star
crumple the cough drop wrapper
but leave it on the table

Dingir Illum, Kmosh
the sun gone · from the deserted street

robots
that eat questions

2010-10-16T21:31:00.001-07:00

"I HAVE NO HOME

I follow the road
nowhere goes to,
the one somewhere
comes from.

If I passed here before,
wore a path into the stone
other than my own,
ignore that fetish form.

On the staircase
each tier vibrates as
the desire to descend
contends with the urge
to awake.

In that same dark
where the groundfloor gets lost
the upper story
may find its way."

--Bill Knott

2010-10-05T09:30:00.001-07:00

1.
range smoking shards of each slow second
Into the next, happen
As if it was not happened
Only as if it could not happened
Only as if it could not happened that did you and leave for me to me in the telephone
Jerked awake, in a jabbering alarm,
Rememb

2.
irth
Pushing through that strange smile.
What happened.
What accumulation of that let me in the ashtray with that let me release you say over the membrane of each slow second
Into my ear: 'Your wife is dead.'
f the ashtray against which you say

3.
n
Or a measured injection,
Coolly delivered its four whole life,
Like effort unconscious, like a selected weapon
Or a measured its four whole life,
Like effort unconscious, like birth
Pushing through that strange smile.
What letter
So carefully ann

4.
f each slow second
Into the ashes off your wife is dead.'
eble exposure over everything.

And I had become such a hunted thing,
Sleepless, hopeless, all its dreams exhausted.
What accumulation of your plan.
Off that letter to me in the ashtray w

2010-09-23T08:03:00.000-07:00

2010-08-31T08:36:00.001-07:00

2010-06-03T15:42:00.001-07:00

2010-05-20T16:42:00.000-07:00

2010-04-29T09:12:00.001-07:00

A Bailiff.

2010-04-26T06:42:00.000-07:00

2010-04-22T13:04:00.001-07:00

2010-04-04T07:54:00.000-07:00

My specs, taped up, again resemble repaired.
My shoes slant where the heel's been ground away.

The hubbub in the hills gathers its strength
at wax of the moon, thereafter trickles away.

What one of us has graven on her blog
hovers a space, not long; then's tucked away.

The headlines catch a scrimmage on the wing,
count bodies strewn, let nascent shove it away.

Once this was where the fleeing sought their hope;
it's our turn now to shed, hope slipped away.

Saffron moon at dawn i'd have you delve
as i do, now my car gets towed away.

Graywyvern woned among green emmets whose veng
incurred deletion, while they moiled away.

2010-01-19T09:15:00.001-08:00

invigilator · Ottoman urn
Viking indigo · sauterne

ruby of lost sunsets · psaltery twang
slowly they burn

the song · no longer dead on the page
its portals · the one return

i have danced there · though i do no more
the place is finished · and rimed with firn

2009-12-10T10:21:00.001-08:00

i cannot make amends,
a stranger to this shore;
what's strange in mountain lands
is stranger on the shore

the moon is ice on ice
still colder in the dawn
the ocean's hiss defends
no stranger on its shore

if any passage swerves
it seems to find no term
i know this passage ends
though stranger with its shore

those who leave it write
the melancholy scroll
in time the rhyme descends
a stranger on that shore

Graywyvern cocks an eye
at trees of flame and finery;
the season understands,
stranger, too, to this shore

2009-11-06T09:05:00.000-08:00

"Red Plenilune"

go on foot; and go · armed
scarecrow's grin and crow-armed

white phosphorus the candid garb
snowman's coals and snow, armed

Graywyvern swinks a nesh farm
gingham-legg'd and calico-armed

2009-10-15T14:15:00.001-07:00

When I will wear a garment all of blood
and find my clouds · drawn with a scrawl of blood

i want no high & low, exquisite things,
if twilight launch the delicate call of blood

not useless, next to useless; gray skies curdle
as here below cavorts a doll of blood

two abjads, same root-language; inbetween,
mountainous, ascends this wall of blood

Graywyvern sets his course at summer's end,
crossing his fingers 'gainst a fall of blood.

2009-09-26T06:26:00.001-07:00

take away the name & i know
i do not know this city

why do i aspire in vain
even to dream of another city

i walked the cobblestones, i spoke
with what i thought were denizens of the city

different pathways, tasks, circles:
we hardly live in the same city

as Graywyvern weaves through traffic
he imagines the future ruins of his city

2009-09-25T09:45:00.000-07:00

Dallas errands, through Seattle weather
on top of all, i have to battle weather

he whispers poems in the coruscating night,
into the sudden window-rattle weather

these Chinese clothes, this coltan-hearted cell
twinge one's conscience mildly in chattel weather

a few charred skeletons guide the way · Graywyvern
sits in his car at a light, in prattle weather

2009-09-25T09:44:00.001-07:00

the standing dead · and all the lights they bear
out there · beyond the dark glass

the standing dead · what parley have i more
who stare · through the dark silent glass

i stand as dead · and do not yet require
such star · in the night of dark glass

2009-09-05T07:04:00.000-07:00

clepsydra of fog in the dog days
build my fane of slag in the dog days

what autumn remembers, itself fades
as Mongols disembogue on the dog days

a garden's belated provision
gars my spirit beg in the dog days

the cripple, the leper, the orphan--
parables not vague in these dog days

dapple-dawn-drawn hurls graywyvern with care
small weapons are real big in the dog days

2009-08-23T08:39:00.000-07:00

He remembers bluegray dawns; he remembers red.
Green, red, yellow curry? He prefers red.

Epic might take silence for this gloze
whose floodlit spiels lob black or fire's red.

The day before you get your picture taken
WalMart replacement ru carpet colored Mars Red.

News again of creditcard payments' increase
halfway through the month my ledger nears red.

what is the name of this wind? Graywyvern feels
mosquitos feasting where his story pours red.

2009-07-31T11:04:00.001-07:00

Let this freon last till summer's end;
the tears loom bleak and vast at summer's end.

Four thirds of a Saturn V a-boil,
new records overpassed by summer's end.

What is there to say to those born after?
--That we declined to forecast summer's end?

Graywyvern didn't see the Empire's fall
but all his journeys passed through summer's end.

2009-07-14T14:15:00.001-07:00

we waltz with necromantic cephalopods
dwell in tangled red-brick cephalopods

Leviathan came near and wheezing expired
who could not thole these Sputnik cephalopods

rotunda holds terse destiny in splinters
it's all about the lovesick cephalopods

crunk flamewings vie in harrowing the source
foxtrot alcove's Arctic cephalopods

teammates, think Graywyvern lacks a plan
to cut through walls of mile-thick cephalopods?

2009-01-24T11:34:00.000-08:00

it's only these crawling wights who garner and doubt hope;
stars, serene and proud, shine softly without hope.

each solitary bird sits perched atop a pole.
if any jostle, it were only to flout hope.

flowers planted at Auschwitz in the gayest hues
fade, are replaced; their raison d'être is to shout hope

i am the song, Graywyvern says, my black smoke flies
above the shattered town; it swells; it's not about hope

2008-12-23T17:24:00.000-08:00

From the deep.

2008-12-02T17:22:00.001-08:00

Across mean years i lost my taste for sugar;
my childhood sank, thickly encased in sugar.

Go, i said, you have no further claim
on these poor bones, your kiss a waste of sugar.

The garden was a dream of riot run
in which we lay, our thirsts replaced with sugar.

City rose upon city, each droll layer
marked at the point its populace embraced sugar.

Graywyvern turned in the dappled labyrinth
to see ants hefting his pathway traced in sugar.

2008-09-19T04:04:00.000-07:00

rorqual fathoms crass
of I. G. Farbenlehre roric

pneuma · Starbucks pentagram gleaming margin
aroma

brick ommatidion carbs
marzipanic · brisk simul

O mere Graywyvern
watching as all goes thud monk's scalp

2008-09-17T09:31:00.001-07:00

The skyscrapers now but BLURS
in the dawn of Beta LYRAE

sporadic cloudy URINE
forwards a nebula RANID

and green · who but tarnal thranite
to launch wingèd SEEDS

2008-09-12T09:58:00.000-07:00

My supermarket constant grumpy settling;
tomorrow's lunar landscape's bumpy settling.

Seas of acetylene seize the mind. Old hall
groans at night, perfervid lumpy settling.

And how Graywyvern sees his will hang fire
dispute-torn, heir to a jumpy settling.

2008-09-01T08:49:00.001-07:00

greensward with the rugged grace
of Frog and Toad at war spinning salvo grace

my aspirational goal being
chaos grace

Huysmans Trophy won
in a fugue of grace

shindig felicity supersede
modern grace

first break all the fixtures as Graywyvern does
then find Æpyornis grace

2008-08-24T21:14:00.000-07:00

our undoing now the winds of chance
as this path's birth was, too, the winds of chance

first I was afraid &183; I was petrified
then i consented to the winds of chance

I found myself upon a cold hill side
unfazed by flutters from the winds of chance

zen 2 kinds of rake the sand, stone garden
order against pan-freaky winds of chance

Graywyvern came like water and he goes,
not unwittingly, astride the winds of chance

2008-08-20T08:45:00.000-07:00

annihilation reverse mortgage
stimming the slightly squamous reverse mortgage

in Iryston
wordiness reverse mortgage

Graywyvern's frog sheaves
hugs a charcoal-shore reverse mortgage

2008-08-16T06:14:00.001-07:00

I die of thirst beside the fountain.
None of us has tried the fountain.

At night the fountain glows within;
drk bits of flotsam ride the fountain.

The desert-builders hedge their words
but drink, however wide the fountain.

The grotto seemed today run dry.
Just to be sure, we pried the fountain.

Let Graywyvern whisper deep
and you yourself provide the fountain.

2008-08-11T05:38:00.001-07:00

i know nerfball from nerdcore,
prologue from encore,

hog putty from putti aloft,
Zoloft from Zocor,

Nagasaki from Hiroshima,
albino from albacore,

just wars from just war,
minotaur from manticore;

Graywyvern at times even
knows Mizar from Alcor.

2008-07-29T11:24:00.001-07:00

Bridge of Sighs and weaving shark of the moon
beside me glide as i craft bark of the moon.

Days, black flowing river, and having won,
yet all your crumbs lark 'neath the arc of a moon.

Samovar ethereal this way;
nor rambles by himself at the dark of the moon.

Pyramid chores, staggering chief of shades
barters blood to be monarch on the moon.

Watch Graywyvern dodging thrown coronas:
all his tumors bear the mark of the moon.

2008-07-01T08:34:00.000-07:00

by Troy Paiva (via)

2008-05-06T09:52:00.000-07:00

Above us is the burning circle set.
Already we have watched Icarus set.

Upheavals only aid the mad collecting
parasites; reward the rarest set.

Enough of war and passionate destroying,
is any in a huff to create, set?

My soul shall taste the sasquatch of her deen
and be amidst her manxome luster set.

This city teeters, caught between two gasps,--
until the paralytic esters set.

2008-05-02T13:41:00.000-07:00

"Did Not Come Back"

In the roan hour between then & then again, the now, in the Babel
Of a sorrel ship gone horizontal to a prow of night, the breach of owls

Abducted by broad light, but blind, in the crime, the titanesque of rare
Assault--we who have come back--petitioning, from the chair

Electric with bad news, from the stunning, from the narrows
Of an evening gall, from the mooring of an hour slanted on the follow

Bow, she rose from a bed of Ireland like a flyted trout, a shiny
Marvel on the sailor's deck, an apologia--divining--

As once, as at a salted empire port, he washed
Her fleeted body & they lied, the best of them, the cream & crush

Of this, the madrigal & sacrifice of that, the best of them,
The slowest velvet suffocation of their kind, did not come

Whittled back by autumn, at an hour between thorn & chaff,
Not come riddled with oblivion, the crossing & a shepherd's staff,

The moment between Have & Shall Not Want, we who have salt
Always know, that we who have--the best of us--did not come back.

--Lucie Brock-Broido

2008-04-16T05:38:00.000-07:00

Not more than my share
of hot water--not more than my share

My cousin in a buzzing oven
collects not more than my share.

Of the light which quagmires breed
i give not more than my share.

2008-04-01T07:20:00.000-07:00

we could not see the trouble coming · happy in that golden time
we saw our normalcy unfurl · lunar in that golden time

we watched our rosy miracles · batten in the sweet sunshine
and all our deals with Moloch throve, · Moloch, in that golden time

we knew what we had done was wrong · to all the lesser echelons
which did not stop us glorying in · freedom in that golden time

our aspirations harry us · as gift by gift they slip away
such stuff as dreams are built on, we · abolish in that golden time

2008-03-16T08:58:00.001-07:00

Our sleep is not disturbed by the cries of the tortured,
nor does our small talk touch on the cries of the tortured.

You do not find in the wailing of our song
not even a little bit, the cries of the tortured.

Do any of those there, not prisoners,
go home and recollect the cries of the tortured?

Yet now in ev'ry trill of the Mardi Gras
i only hear, despairing, the cries of the tortured.

2008-03-14T10:51:00.000-07:00

dark car glinting silver & gold
the sun behind it silver & gold

a mother & 2 kids fall off an overpass
gorgeous morning at Starbucks silver & gold

in a dream returning only to say
will not be returning silver & gold

2008-03-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

"The Questioner of the Sphinx" by Elihu Vedder
(via wood_s lot)

2008-02-20T06:37:00.000-08:00

"Yasmin

How splendid in the morning glows the lily: with what grace he throws
His supplication to the rose: do roses nod the head, Yasmin?

But when the silver dove descends I find the little flower of friends
Whose very name that sweetly ends I say when I have said, Yasmin.

The morning light is clear and cold: I dare not in that light behold
A whiter light, a deeper gold, a glory too far shed, Yasmin.

But when the deep red eye of day is level with the lone highway,
And some to Meccah turn to pray, and I toward thy bed, Yasmin;

Or when the wind beneath the moon is drifting like a soul aswoon
And harping planets talk love's tune with milky wings outspread, Yasmin,

Shower down thy love, O burning bright! For one night or the other night
Will come the Gardener in white, and gathered flowers are dead, Yasmin."

--James Elroy Flecker, Hassan (1922)

2008-02-10T08:32:00.000-08:00

what pink dusk calls · the fountain in the dark
winds' presage squalls · the fountain in the dark

i prowl lined shelves · in search of words that bite;
without stone walls, · the fountain in the dark

fifty twisters · ride the ballot wake
like mercury falls · the fountain in the dark

like mercury falls · and dun gallium rapids
phalanx of dolls · the fountain in the dark

and Klingon Islam · voices rend the night
by shades crossed, sprawls · the fountain in the dark

2008-02-05T07:00:00.001-08:00

Argyle hummingbird, shoo......the New Jurassic is coming
Nine blue castles halloo......the New Jurassic is coming

Leaving whatever has curdled......to burden, pirates we frolic;
Steer like Mr Magoo......the New Jurassic is coming

Launch such caravan now......cfipyboi's ripe for a shaking
Hear Graywyvern kazoo......the New Jurassic is coming

2008-01-29T10:50:00.000-08:00

(image by J. Karl Bogartte, via Metafilter)

2008-01-09T11:30:00.000-08:00

Carillons are harbingers we read · into the azure
turning sinistral unbidden, lead · into the azure

thse bright things eleven eleven stray · out of my pastime
learning other skies i see them freed · into the azure

spinning generates its own abode · we are the whirl of
tell Graywyvern fathoms further plead · into the azure

2008-01-09T11:26:00.001-08:00

the trains will ride on magnets · should it go the other way
our robots do the reading · should it go the other way

defeat will find us smiling · and our foes in disarray
cars will stop for walkers · should it go the other way

the songs we write will linger · on the fathoms of decay
and you and i will prosper · should it go the other way

yes you and i will prosper · as the seasons take their turn
as they were wont to follow · should it go the other way

2007-12-13T11:32:00.000-08:00

(via Metafilter)

2007-11-27T07:35:00.001-08:00

Waiting on the ultimate trick salvage of time
andiron dreams burning in the night of zebra time

construct my interstitial leisure out of winks
in the eye, turquoise tiger eye, and topaz of time

the desert is an ocean with the life underground
these words of Graywyvern will run till dawn the gauntlet of time

2007-11-20T12:58:00.000-08:00

Grimoire of vermilion grow longer
muezzins crow longer

both the fire
and the flood · could go longer

Graywyvern through blue otchkies surveys the mad
dog convoy, man, no longer

2007-11-20T12:25:00.001-08:00

The dark pavilion'd song of apogee plaintiff
abides. The whist of perigee is constant.

Hieroglyphs without myst'ry haunt this musjid
the cure for ev'ry zodiac of brainwash.

How i long to withhold the brush of scalprum
whose dawning like a Lesser Grebe is punctual.

Rightclick and the wolves of consensus soldier
on. There is nothing mad in being gleeful.

I failed corsned.

2007-10-16T07:15:00.000-07:00

years of cars without heat
whole winters endured without any heat

the intricacy in itself
ghazals of desire without the heat

acorn cap on the hood
the crackle of runoff

kid pulls on the locked library door
my patience now a thing without heat

2007-10-13T08:04:00.001-07:00

2007-10-09T12:29:00.001-07:00

"The very much more fortunate twentieth-century lover who was born and brought up in one of the countries of the modern West can best envisage the situation of the lover in the ghazal if we compare it with what a black lover of a white beloved or a white lover of a black beloved can face in societies such as South Africa or the southern states of the USA." --Ralph Russell in: The Oxford India Ghalib (2003)

2007-09-25T14:36:00.000-07:00

Nuklir threats
flicker on the screen of a nuklir fam'y.

How many bombs it
require for nuklir winter?

Way creeping meatball hunkers countdown;
old silos ponder nuklir clearcut.

2007-09-13T15:04:00.000-07:00

Deadline-driven journalists remember
Here is something ought to be remembered.

Many people died, but for what cause
And what came after, they do not remember.

Yesterday is nothing to us now;
And what tomorrow's for, who remembers?

If there were fascist governments before
It must be how they decked out, we remember.

Old Graywyvern drowses in a chair;
He should be mad, is all he now remembers.

2007-09-11T07:33:00.001-07:00

via Blindheit

So many things entangle in a velcro watchband
a rosy morning shatters on my velcro watchband

a swirling flight of birds spans cemetery fields;
an old song's frozen joy, this loyal velcro watchband

Graywyvern stands in line at nearby crowded Starbuck's
around his clever beltloop dangles velcro watchband

2007-09-11T07:33:00.000-07:00

No one lights the lamps in the City of Peace;
fear the swift flambeau in the City of Peace.

Layers of lost time, and the shimmer of heat
pierced by august steel in the City of Peace.

Now break camp and go. May you find what you seek:
walls of lasting frith, and a city of peace.

2007-09-04T10:27:00.001-07:00

This tunnel does not jibe with all the maps.
Lostness i imbibe with all the maps.

Eclipse-time, and the boys will no more jeer
the oddball in the tribe with all the maps.

Pursuing you, alas, is one that's through,
O tutelary vibe, with all the maps.

2007-08-28T13:18:00.000-07:00

sky of thrang node indigo
imprigrity of node guano

cadaküş cmalyranji
flees funnel clouds of node ullage

upon writ ilka athanor
Graywyvern node rune