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#Mus(es)(ing) over Katherine Mansfield today reminded of her...

Fri, 24 May 2013 17:14:00 +0100

#Mus(es)(ing) over Katherine Mansfield today reminded of her story The Wind Blows.

//They cannot walk fast enough. Their heads bent, their legs just touching, they stride like one eager person through the town, down the asphalt zigzag where the fennel grows wild, and on to the esplanade. It is dusky–just getting dusky. The wind is so strong that they have to fight their way through it, rocking like two old drunkards. All the poor little pahutukawas on the esplanade are bent to the ground.

“Come on! Come on! Let’s get near.”

Over by the breakwater the sea is very high. They pull off their hats and her hair blows across her mouth, tasting of salt. The sea is so high that the waves do not break at all; they thump against the rough stone wall and suck up the weedy, dripping steps. A fine spray skims from the water right across the esplanade. They are covered with drops; the inside of her mouth tastes wet and cold.//

Today by Frank O'Hara

Wed, 22 May 2013 11:04:00 +0100

  Oh! kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas!
   You really are beautiful! Pearls,
   harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins! all
   the stuff they've always talked about
                       
   still makes a poem a surprise!
   These things are with us every day
   even on beachheads and biers. They
   do have meaning. They're strong as rocks.

[1950]

Another band member sporting the PROSEBEFOREHOES look. Bands dig...

Mon, 20 May 2013 10:09:42 +0100

Another band member sporting the PROSEBEFOREHOES look. Bands dig Neutral Norway and Neutral Norway dig CEMENT MATTERS. Watch out for new PROSEBEFOREHOES gear coming soon.

Alasdair Gray ~ The End ~ From Lanark 1981

Fri, 17 May 2013 19:20:41 +0100

I started making maps when I was small

showing place, resources, where the enemy

and where love lay. I did not know

time adds to land. Events drift continually down,

effacing landmarks, raising the level, like snow.

I have grown up. My maps are out of date.

The land lies over me now.

I cannot move. It is time to go.

~ Alasdair Gray ‘81

Alasdair Gray ~ Muses

Fri, 17 May 2013 19:17:21 +0100

Alasdair Gray ~ Muses

#MUSES - Sharon Olds

Fri, 17 May 2013 19:08:00 +0100

click on the muses tag to see NN holy muses holy holy holy

Sharon Olds - May 1968

Fri, 17 May 2013 19:04:04 +0100

When the Dean said we could not cross campus
until the students gave up the buildings,
we lay down, in the street,
we said the cops will enter this gate
over us. Lying back on the cobbles,
I saw the buildings of New York City
from dirt level, they soared up
and stopped, chopped off—above them, the sky,
the night air over the island.
The mounted police moved, near us,
while we sang, and then I began to count,
12, 13, 14, 15,
I counted again, 15, 16, one
month since the day on that deserted beach,
17, 18, my mouth fell open,
my hair on the street,
if my period did not come tonight
I was pregnant. I could see the sole of a cop’s
shoe, the gelding’s belly, its genitals—
if they took me to Women’s Detention and did
the exam on me, the speculum,
the fingers—I gazed into the horse’s tail
like a comet-train. All week, I had
thought about getting arrested, half-longed
to give myself away. On the tar—
one brain in my head, another,
in the making, near the base of my tail—
I looked at the steel arc of the horse’s
shoe, the curve of its belly, the cop’s
nightstick, the buildings streaming up
away from the earth. I knew I should get up
and leave, but I lay there looking at the space
above us, until it turned deep blue and then
ashy, colorless, Give me this one
night, I thought, and I’ll give this child
the rest of my life, the horse’s heads,
this time, drooping, dipping, until
they slept in a circle around my body and my daughter

Photo

Mon, 13 May 2013 16:18:02 +0100

I tried not to post a video of Michelle Tea. I tried to look...

Mon, 13 May 2013 10:48:13 +0100

I tried not to post a video of Michelle Tea. I tried to look around went through a couple of books searched a couple of names and I found some cool people, some good stuff. But then I watched this video and thought well Michelle Tea really does this best. Other people do it, they do it well it’s good I like it but Michelle Tea really does this best. So I posted Michelle Tea.

PICKLE BELT by THEODORE ROETHKE

Mon, 06 May 2013 17:36:23 +0100

The fruit rolled by all day.
They prayed the cogs would creep;
They thought about Saturday pay,
And Sunday sleep.

Whatever he smelled was good:
The fruit and flesh smells mixed.
There beside him she stood,—
And he, perplexed;

He, in his shrunken britches,
Eyes rimmed with pickle dust,
Prickling with all the itches
Of sixteen-year-old lust.

SAPPHO

Sun, 21 Apr 2013 22:04:59 +0100

Gone from her: jagged alabaster underfoot
No ripe peach orchard
No cedar glow, no candle lit
No amber flame

Boiled saltwater percolates steam into
Wilted roses into rank deadheads
What was radiant glimmers nowhere
No sleep will warm her breasts

The goat’s kids chomp the grass bare
Sacrifice without honor
Like hard dry pomegranate skin
The wind goes so still

In Crete no one will take you up:
Offered small jade glass cups
Turn acrid water across the tongue
Into one’s funeral, love’s loss.

Esben and the Witch (CLICK) showing us some Neutral Norway...

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 17:52:00 +0100

Esben and the Witch (CLICK) showing us some Neutral Norway love.

Right back atcha XOXO

Maximally Visable At Every Moment

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 21:22:00 +0100

// My life would be shot

like a porno : maximally

visable at every moment :

we clean the windows open

the curtains let the birds in :

changing : fuck

ing

maximally visable at every moment //

/a job's a job/means to an end/

Tue, 09 Apr 2013 17:49:00 +0100

anything is a means to an end, ultimately.

any job is boring

spending time

gathering independent wealth over

enjoyment.

you don’t have to be an adult any more

than you want to be an adult

was it wise to agree to an

extension how can you be sure

how can you ever be sure

you always have your family to fall back on

not everybody has a family that they can

fall back into

you would be mad to waste it mad to waste your intellegence

mad intelligence

don’t waste it you’re the only one with any real intelligence

if you’re so intelligent why are you so desperate

so desperate to waste it

the roof over your head is the final nail in the coffin.

anything is a means to an end, ultimately.

The Digital Age

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 17:09:07 +0100

The Digital Age:

Alfie Prendergast has released his first eBOOK

OMG OMG OMG OMG WOW WOW WOW WOW

Click the link to buy it!

Now to hold. And to keep. I To boil wheat seeds, and meat and season it well. and...

Tue, 02 Apr 2013 16:59:42 +0100

Now to hold.

And to keep.

To boil wheat

seeds, and meat

and season it well.

and stoke the fire

to clutch claw the new,

roots and blue stew chutes

nettles, cowslips slipaways.

Canary, candle, pea.

III

Throat-full and loving.

Hot and lucky

in a warm

lucky world.

Calm and blunt,

in the slip deep creek

soon to furnace green

as a forest drunk.

Humble as litter

antler as bone

champing cold calm war,

clean liquid mornings.

You know me well

and i am stone for you.

Hard small and willing

willing hard in your palm.

I’M SORRY I’M WHITE! I’M SORRY I’M MALE!

Tue, 26 Mar 2013 00:52:00 +0000

I’M SORRY I’M WHITE!

I’M SORRY I’M MALE!

Photo

Sun, 24 Mar 2013 23:00:27 +0000

Our boy Michael Horovitz is getting about a bit of late…

Sun, 24 Mar 2013 19:29:31 +0000

Our boy Michael Horovitz is getting about a bit of late…

HONEY GRIT

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 13:43:48 +0000

i should have spat down honey

and spoiled the lathe with butter grit

should beg should i, beg

about the cauldrons edge aclustered

should break, should i break?

those wheels, black and sticky cogs

workers in the fields, breaknecks

in the wain houses. and spoil the

vim and vigour, so acerbic

bechucked, aclustered about

the farm and factory clucking blades

oh fresh fresh! inside the plastic

creche crushed, purpling

pliant and grown quick, too too

quick and gathered in the veins

and causing quite a headache

fresh fresh brown to polished limbs.

you ‘sir’ and demand it and spit.

i should pestle your face

to pepper crumbs and guilt

and pour down the grit

and honey the fingertips

and stop the work

stop it. stop.

the child