Obviously The Cure is playing right now.
i'm glad i'm blogging these instead of hiding them with the embarrassment of first drafts (or the opposite paranoia i understand but can't personally understand, fear of those plagiarising for profit? to quote Brian Teare at AWP '11, "we certainly aren't doing it (writing) for the fiscal rewards.") -- anyway, blogging has always been the challenge of honest autobiographical narrator with an honesty to my constant-interior poetic monologue/detective note-keeping. now i think (looking back on this project) that i'm in part trying to poem in a blog-acceptable or blog-omniscient narrator challenging, or in conversation with-- (as i like to say) manner. i don't know. i just wanted to say, even though the comments-online are occasional/a bit between, the in-person and offhand sweet remarks i've received from folks saying they do catch them via facebook and are into them... that means the world to me. if they're legible and not plasticine in their blogginess, hoozah! i have no idea. back to my faux croque monsieur sandwich. xo
+
265. january 25, 2011 (tues.)
Oh! You must be with Walter Sickert!
Right this way! We don't even have to raise leopard
brows, narrow lioness eyes, purse kiss of the spider woman
lips to get our Press pass "plant" seats. There will be hooting
(that will be perceived as perhaps heckling) with joy...
The Dig or Phoenix reporter immediately relocates.
Can't one and one's lady-date giggle L'Ancome Clinique
while untwining faux furs, searching hands and handbags
with various remarks of merkins and stoals--
stolen bifocals and bifricated hearts!
Meff arrives dressed like PeeWee
and we must sound like pervs squealing
over her new glasses frames. Where will we
eat after the mentalist psychics circus we are about to receive?
Je me souviens... marva-tots gymnastics,
the top of my notebook-page reads. It seems
all had crushes on the cute "narcoleptic" tumbler
falling asleep mid-air, losing scarves in the streets.
(to be cont'd)
week39: 1
http://locksmithy.livejournal.com/tag/poem-a-day
http://poetesss.tumblr.com/PAD (crazy behind on archives. 'pologies poetesss.tumblr readers)
(perhaps to be cont'd)
+
265. january 25, 2011 (tues.)
Oh! You must be with Walter Sickert!
Right this way! We don't even have to raise leopard
brows, narrow lioness eyes, purse kiss of the spider woman
lips to get our Press pass "plant" seats. There will be hooting
(that will be perceived as perhaps heckling) with joy...
The Dig or Phoenix reporter immediately relocates.
Can't one and one's lady-date giggle L'Ancome Clinique
while untwining faux furs, searching hands and handbags
with various remarks of merkins and stoals--
stolen bifocals and bifricated hearts!
Meff arrives dressed like PeeWee
and we must sound like pervs squealing
over her new glasses frames. Where will we
eat after the mentalist psychics circus we are about to receive?
Je me souviens... marva-tots gymnastics,
the top of my notebook-page reads. It seems
all had crushes on the cute "narcoleptic" tumbler
falling asleep mid-air, losing scarves in the streets.
(to be cont'd)
week39: 1
http://locksmithy.livejournal.com/tag/poem-a-day
http://poetesss.tumblr.com/PAD (crazy behind on archives. 'pologies poetesss.tumblr readers)
(perhaps to be cont'd)