RE:Post Cards to the Stars

As soon as I find the right image I will send these out:


Dear Rachel d l p,

I think we might agree in ways that are beyond my

comprehension. You know what I mean don’t you.

Yours.







Dear C A,

You just go ahead big guy. And don’t ever believe

everything you read. Not even for a minute.

Yours,





Dear Shannon,

I for one truly believe that you can do

successfully and pleasantly everything there is to do on

this planet by yourself. Period.  You taught that.

Yours,







Dear D A,

Be very careful and take just a hint of advice

from an old person. Your head certainly can explode.

Believe me not them.

Yours,







Dear Tom of Kent,

You CANNOT answer a question with a question.

You need to go to couplet counseling man. No pun.

Yours,







Dear Heart Broke in Brooklyn,

In deep shit is not always a bad thing you know. That.

Follow your best thoughts and think like a kitten.

Too survive is priceless.

Yours,







Dear AB in OP,

When I read your latest I feel old, scared and vulnerable.

Not in that order and not a bad thing. Always. Well.

No. No really.

Yours,






Dear Everyone at St. Marks Poetry Project,

Quit sending me your magazine. It doesn’t make sense anymore.

Yours,

Bad Man Bad Bad Bad

I know that looking into the past is not much popular and in some rooms made fun of....but look what can be found in our archives and what it does for us today.  Ms. Sexton was a giant....we should all have her grace and diction.  It is good to be reminded....to be humbled....to be fucked up.  I belong to a tribe called Hornet.  How ironc to be born a man and live in todays world and stand out and be struck down when called for.  You dont think I am talking about me do you.



HORNET

A red-hot needle

hangs out of him, he steers by it

as if it were a rudder, he

would get in the house any way he could

and then he would bounce from window

to ceiling, buzzing and looking for you.

Do not sleep for he is there wrapped in the curtain.

Do not sleep for he is there under the shelf.

Do not sleep for he wants to sew up your skin,

he want to leap into your body like a hammer

with a nail, do not sleep he wants to get into

your nose and make a transplant, he wants do not

sleep he wants to bury your fur and make

a nest of knives, he wants to slide under your

fingernail and push in a splinter, do not sleep

he wants to climb out of the toilet when you sit on it

and make a home in the embarrassed hair do not sleep

he wants you to walk into him as into a dark fire.



Anne Sexton

RE: Today

I miss my dead friends Paul Mariah and Ed Dorn today.  This morning.  Why is that today.  I wonder if
all since elections I am suffering from the culture of Amerika.  It makes me sick.  ALL of it.  Why these
two men (men) and now.  Perhaps something that they both held high and true....they both I think saw
the world which surrounded them with an awful clarity that few of us, very very few, can recognize and
put down in print.  THAT lifted them both into an extrodinary universe and they remain.  Remembering
now what they wrote and how.....each reacted to the same world surrounding them.....fucked up and evil
to the bone it was....they both recognized and yet they described for us to see a response.  Paul would (did) offer (me) you (anyone) an umbrella or a hum job...your choice....depending on the weather and he did it honestly.  Ed would (did)  offer  (me) you (anyone) a line of coke or a baseball bat...with equal human respnse to your wellbeing.  Believe me.  You can now take this and it is my treat.  Today. 

RE: NOW NOW NOW

IMPEACH SAM BROWNBACK

RE: Format

Part B


I just can’t believe if ever the thought you don’t know how

you have no idea idear you couldn’t possibly



Not much thrown up over a life time time to look back and

realize that nothing gained for lack of trying just substitutes

sweat for grit who needs that either



Just coming to terms with all that time wasted here sits one

pumped out hole in the spirit life trudging across across me like

three times twenty or some such mathematical possibility but

don’t now no don’t ask



Why it matters it matters not just because but just and all

solutions rendered seem pointless at least and dull now posted



Take all of this please if it is a moldy joke just gather up and walk

away before I have to write more



What’s more this dreams don’t matter no more just one after

another looking for a way out of one more too tight space that is

what is left



Saving the best for last aint like what I made it up to be.

                                                           (smokin w/william-1991)



RE: Lovejoy by Phoebe Wayne

Just received new publication from c_L books, Portland.  Lovejoy by Phoebe
Wayne is tremedious work.  A somewhat difficult task to take up a person or anothers persons work and 'write about it'.  Well Ms. Wayne has and well she has done it.  Mazal Tov to her and James Yeary who made the book.

Here is Phoebe Wayne's blogsite and she talks abut the book:
http://onedocument.blogspot.com/

Here is James Yeary's website. 
http://catabolicguiltcalendar.blogspot.com/

Here are some lines from the book:

"The Lovejoy Columns are distant lost damaged personal

   and historical/social, Commercial from transit beginnings

          to development to art-commerce moment of all our

        bunched ideals frenzying over each face of glass and

 framed ditch.  Framed by park, salvaged industrial beams

                                             etc.  Framed by Real Estate."

RE: GO HERE NOW

http://mavieenbling2amemoir.blogspot.com/2010/10/ma-vie-en-bling-2-memoir.html



Call it what you will and you will.

Thanks AB and H.