Friday, February 3, 2017

candle nub then


"Imagine being five or six years old in a town like that, not knowing what GPS is, looking out from the darkness of your bedroom over several weeks of late nights, and living through this season of burning trucks, those infernal visitors from further up the mountainside, tumbling down past houses, trailed by smoke, their fiery wheels reflecting bright red in the windows of parked cars..." --Bldblg

La lingvo de poezio.

"Paul Revere, Heartburn, Imbolc"

Go back to the unquiet grave we long
decided was a fable & desired
not even to grieve. Go back, & now be willing
to run that hazard.

The barest sliver of a moon at dawn.
The thing i said was not the thing i said.
Our house will soon be scrutinized for radon;
despair, pellucid,

breaks ranks with mild acceptance. I would remember
this life as something once we built to keep,
had kept mostly beautiful. Another caliber
of dream's vast upkeep

rises from the cold unquiet grave
& will not be content to break our sleep.

The Bowling Green Massacre.

"I always noticed that the chief features in the pantomime had nothing to do with the story." --G K Chesterton

Fascism Forever.

"A writer is in the end not his books, but his myth. And that myth is in the keeping of others." --V S Naipaul


(via @stevesilberman)

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