spruce tuned fertile

1. music gang mist tells Psychologies of fang. Wise? Were Psychology's sins Lasters?

2. Such deer Thighbones won sun's hat with fur svelteness in the den Mouth zoo deem, washed her negligent weirs.

3. Um... mullein zoo lebensraum, muss man sin in Their odour vein. Got to skein salt Aristotle. Felt doer dirty Fall: man muss Betides skein: Philosophy.

4. "Alley Fahrenheit mist infatuate." Fist days night whiteface vine Loge?

5. Inch will, vein for alley Mall, Wireless night wiser. Die Weisenheimer Fonzie, such dear Clark Kentness Frenzies.

6. Man holsters rich in sign off wilder Nature unbeaten Avon lady signed off Unnaturally, Avon lady signs off Atheistic.

7. Wise? list all dear Mensch fur vein that Merv Griffin has Gotten. odour Got too far in vain Griffin dyes Mensches?

8. Bus dear crack school dyes Lebensraum. Was mite night upbringing, mast mite starker?

9. Half deer seller: damn hilt deer note Undermanned arrangement. Principle dear knock back stein liter.

10. Pass manned Ronald Reagan sign off. Landlubber's sign off Heightens begetting! ass man sine cosine night hinterlands, aim Pastiche last! Dear Dissensions list indignations.

11. Kant feigns Edsel tragic stain? Pass man punter diner Last zoo Grunge get, dying man weeds outrages, note Zimbabwean constancy. Dear Fall dyes Philosopher.

12. Hat man's stein is warm? dyes Lebensraum so introverts can man rich fast might edema-wise? Dear Mensch street night nacho Louise Glück; furious dear Englander hut days.

13. Deranged Man hat days Web chaffering, aurora's dote? Bus diner Ripper signs off ill Gotten, signs off "Ideals"...

14. Was dew such street? dew lightest ditch Verizon focus, thunderhead dew. such street Hungering, such Sullen.

15. Posthumous Mensches zoom Spiels, warden Bechtel's understander gals make zeitgeist, saber lesson for Joe Besser. Stringer: wiry warden nine understander tuned dasher unsure of Tutorials.

16. Enter Frowning. "Die Fahrenheit? Oh Sire kennel, die Fahrenheit night! Fist sine night vein Tentative auk alley unsure grandeurs"

17. Dais list vein Koestler's, wise is Koestler's liege, subsidences sign off Dissenter's: era will negligently form hurly burly, Stein Broadly tuned in Unstable, panel ate Circe.

18. Ewer sign off Willed night indie Dingle zoo, legmen weirs, dear legit fastenings linen Sink note whine: days heisted, era Flaubert, ass vein Oscar Wilde berates Bobby Darin simmer (Principle dyes "Flaubert").

19. Wise? ear waltz does Tugboat tending tuned xenophobes, Busiest tune sent nucleic shell nacho Northerly dear lightning. Amber might dear Tug end Roy Lichtenstein manning auk "Northeaster"... (cinema Antisemitism and diet Exhausting.)

20. Dais commendably Web begets Literature, wise as vine Madeleine Sunday beget: zoom Versus aim for bird, rich crumbliness, obsess Remand:
emergent tuned asses Remand temerity.

21. Site in later Lager debenture qua manly sign off. Superintendence haven dwarfs quote man overwhelmed, wise dear seltzer bottle (auk sign them Sale) underwent odourous divan commute.

22. "Base Mensches haven sign off Lieder." Wise commuters, ass die Russet Lieder haven?

23. "Scherzo Ageist": snit yachtsmen Fahrenheit vinous contradiction in adjective.

24. Dammit, ass man nacho den Cotangents, such weird man Maynard G. Krebs. Dear Prehistoric sight truck warts; lichen Flaubert era such truck wars.

25. Fahrenheit's Nietzsche obstacle for erstwhile tone. Hat jet rich vine Web, days rich gut kaleidescopes wussies off kilter? Inch seize den Fall, days sat trauma kaleidescope war.

26. Inch distraught Allen Systematize style on gene edge. fishnet ads demo Keg. Dear Oscar Wilde zooms System list vein Mangle at Kaffee klatsches.

27. Man hilt days Web for chef warning. veil manikin beg him awesome den Gerund commute. Dais Web list note night malingering flak.

28. Venn diagram days Web lichens Gender hat, so listees zoom to divan laughing; tune went sign off enriched by Gender hat, so tufted as obstacle divan.

comments field is gone here. the only reason I'd want to retain comments is for compliments (you rock, Allen!!! or maybe: awesomely said, Allen!!!!!). I don't believe that dialogue works in comments boxes. you can email me if you have something you've got to say to me. I don't assume that you do.

talked with a young writer friend the other day. he's 10. I've known Isaac for 2 years. used to do a class with him, now we hang and talk. it's not condescension to call him a writer, he's very busy at it, takes it seriously. and his use of visual has been instructive for me. he recently wrote a story in columns, 4 per page. the idea being that he was writing Chinese. his writing would be a feast for Jung, for it's full of archetypal imagery. a great deal of murder goes on in his stories, inscrutable Shakespearian tragedy. he wrote a series of mysteries featuring a Holmesian detective called Septic Option. I asked where he got he name. he replied he got it off a box of Rid-X, a product that treats septic tanks. he wasn't being self-consciously clever, as I would've had I gotten the name that way, he just saw the word combo and liked it. he very much thinks of himself as a writer but doesn't need to convince the world yet. there is something greatly therapeutic for him in his writing. writing and drawing provide a vocabulary by which he can deal with the traumas of life. so there's an aspect of expressive threapy to his work, but it would be cheating Isaac to say that's all his work is. it's a basic confrontation with elemental issues, for sure, and also an artistic journey. he's not at the point where he rewrites, it's still simply a mighty outpouring, but there is integrity to his artistic vision. that's what gets me about the Foetry drama. so much wallowing in rep. and it's all such a mess of non-issues, except that they're promulgated by needy people prancing publicly. what a thin tea that sweat makes! nervous artist types.

I wouldn't advise the non-crank Enrique Gould nor any the others who've quit or threatened to quit blogging to keep on with their blogs. I continue to have trouble staying on with the project, and I love writing this thing. this sort of writing works with my particular process. I can see how blog-writing might distract others from their process, for me it fits my method. but it can become a show, a public dance. examples of such cheap thrills are out there, easy enough to find. how's my career look everyone? maybe this thing reads like that but from this end it is useful (albeit fun) work for me. but still... I quit the flarf list, where I didn't belong anyway, tired, and I don't feel any group attachment. Henry's comments below regarding hisnon-crankiness are pretty sharp, and kind of inspire this pallid rumination here.

I should've noted my regrets that Henry G has left the building. not enough iconoclastic cranks in Po-BizLand. anyone can repeat the effable, it's the singular ones who are of interest.

I mean, imagine if Alan Cordles and Jim Behrle both hated me: I'd sure be up shit creek. and if Ron Silliman lumped me with his latest monolith, I guess that would hurt pretty bad. I mean, if any or all of that happened, it'd totally be all over for me. wow, have I had a vision of hell just now!!!

I mean, let's assume that high schools over, and we've moved on...

I mean, if Foetry.com could ever hurt you, shouldn't you wonder why you're so tender?

christ, Jim Behrle casts himself smaller and smaller the more he whacks the dead horse. the Iron Hand crush'd the Tyrants head and became a tyrant in his Stead.

I guess John Latta will be glad to know that I agree with his point about Silliman's fight against School of Quietude. Silliman procceeds with a concerted lumping together process, badgering this idea he has of School of Quietude. the conservative politics we see in this country bases itself on people doing the same effing thing. Silliman embarks on a dispiriting imitation of criticism when he deplores the monolith he imagines. he has too much intelligence to be this lazy.

previous piece was written 5 years ago, which is about as far back as I'm willing to go with my poetry. I stumbled on it recently. I kinda started the whole thing over about 1999, really make use of the lessons I think I learned. didn't Spicer say he was born in 46, becasue hat's when his writing started, or something? but anyway, itthe poem reads like I wrote it recently.

Dirge-Like

that much settling down feels like the end of everyone. grave sight.

today is the end of yesterday, finalized in abrupt words. not that the matter ends, only that there can be only so much, left to what.

only so many tributes fill the void. the void stares back, reflective. today, that sad boundary. tomorrow, look at the day.

damp clouds are no help, and the rain is only a mild excuse to cry. today is what is left, out of gas or what’s the word for something? anything might fit the day or what people need, when loss is tremendous.

trees groan under the weight of what trees grow under the weight of.

the river goes away and the bier takes flame. that is bad enough, as we hold.

we haven’t a chance, or in sunlight anything could be shiny. new today will grow old. anything timeless has limit.

today is leftover or forgotten, tomorrow looms emptiness and what we look for, when the rains stop. who we lose is important, in the struck rock way of pickaxe into mine wall.

so much gets lost, just like that. yesterday, when it was okay, seems so harsh.

indeed Lanny Q's various, witness:
where sand and pupils
proliferate
in the sea of schools
which is more expansive than the previous, and lovely still. I don't know what the typical Quarles piece is like.

lovely poem by Lanny Quarles, also posted to Wryting-l. no superfluities, and the words seem like stones. I am not a minimalist, wish I had that beam focus. Creeley, Niedecker, Zukofsky in ways (perhaps I am not quite speaking minimalism but...)... minimalism is a mode and I'm afraid I'm probably caught in maximalism (but I love that too: Jim Leftwich, Ron Silliman, Peter Ganick...)... anyway, back to point, great poem by Lanny Quarles.

Jonathan Mayhew read A Nest of Ninnies, but didn't like it. he preferred Schuyler's other novels. I liked A&G alot, really charming, and I haven't read What's For Dinner (great title tho: there's room in the novel world for the deflated). well, okay. JM says on his blog that he's read more than one Saul Bellow novel. one did it for me (The Dean's Winter, a truly lifeless piece of work), so I guess it's a matter of taste. sooth to say, Creeley's not to my taste. that's no denying Creeley's greatness, but I get more pleasure from O'Hara, say, than Creeley. poetrywise, at least. I really dig Creeley's critical work, including interviews. oddly, 2 of the most influential poem type writers for me are minimalist: Creeley and Grenier. Grenier as my only teacher sent me in directions that saved me from inflating Whitmanly, and Creeley just gave example. I was warmer to Olson's poetry but I needed to fight and wrassle with the Creeley oeuvre. and maybe I get caught up in the idea too much of poetry, when I just can't comprise the term in a usefully concise way. Mike Snider loves poetry and Ron Silliman loves poetry, that's absolutely clear on their blogs, but they don't love the same thing. not hardly. what I write, I've always called it poetry, but why is it poetry and not something else? I've written 7 novels (I know, hard to believe), 2 of which could possibly be worth publishing if this world fit my theories at all and if I, like, should show them to someone. all of them MUCH influenced by Ninnies. no plot, no character development, so what's left? I dunno, but it's my vision. that's what I love about Ninnies, and A&G too. so my poetry: my writing that hangs under that designation, it is what is available to me to write. I don't mean to make a boring statement like that. I still get bedeviled by form. why stanzas anymore? what's the dimension of a line? what does punctuation mean? these questions are easier to answer from formalist standpoint, but even there, got to twiddle with what's expected. well I guess I should cut this divagation short, I'm supposed to be writing about Jung.

don't get too excited, but here's a TRANSLATION that I did. it's long, you'll have to dodge a popup, nobody cares, I'm misunderstood, you're too busy, etc. anyway: Translation (All Apologies).