blog trail
like a slime mold. not here, but can of corn, shikow, thinkfeel, barak. it continues.
this ongoing quality. more so than a book, even a zine. ongoing conversation, its brought to the fore. esp. with those who are far away, esp. for what its hard to say. being a poet means taking responsibility for that rhyme, and sending it on an underground railroad away from the proper peotic authorities.
that my friends are amazing, are troublesome, impulsive, brilliant, and stubborn. that we repeat ourselves. and that we explore. and that occasionally we have no exact idea of what to say, but the heart is open, it is receiving.
and even the antsy mind listens.
now i ride my bike home thinking about what t sparks once wrote to me about the logic of abandonment. which i, don juan of the notebook, know too well. this wreckless and romantic quest for the new, perfect, virgin writing, and this constant disregard of the already written.
JWG bugs me once a month or so to publish, but that would mean breaking this cycle of infidelity. which is a big one for me. but i am getting sick of it though. but where to start in this montrous harem (full of east coast WASPS, trannies, cocksure fighters, a few old farmers, lovelorn students, junkies, and aspiring artists, a ravishing beauty or two to be sure)- which to lead out towards social light? great big "ummm" and haw...
just to say this exists. that and a pimple on the inside of my nose - 2nd in a month! they hurt.
this is the type of post that does/doesn't get you jobs?
this ongoing quality. more so than a book, even a zine. ongoing conversation, its brought to the fore. esp. with those who are far away, esp. for what its hard to say. being a poet means taking responsibility for that rhyme, and sending it on an underground railroad away from the proper peotic authorities.
that my friends are amazing, are troublesome, impulsive, brilliant, and stubborn. that we repeat ourselves. and that we explore. and that occasionally we have no exact idea of what to say, but the heart is open, it is receiving.
and even the antsy mind listens.
now i ride my bike home thinking about what t sparks once wrote to me about the logic of abandonment. which i, don juan of the notebook, know too well. this wreckless and romantic quest for the new, perfect, virgin writing, and this constant disregard of the already written.
JWG bugs me once a month or so to publish, but that would mean breaking this cycle of infidelity. which is a big one for me. but i am getting sick of it though. but where to start in this montrous harem (full of east coast WASPS, trannies, cocksure fighters, a few old farmers, lovelorn students, junkies, and aspiring artists, a ravishing beauty or two to be sure)- which to lead out towards social light? great big "ummm" and haw...
just to say this exists. that and a pimple on the inside of my nose - 2nd in a month! they hurt.
this is the type of post that does/doesn't get you jobs?
posted by Kyle at 7:05 PM
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