a flarf poet aims to say nothing at all yet be understood this poet always fails the celebration of successful old poets is famous evening dinner gown svilver pantaloon goblet of glistening crescendo stiletto dagger in the open mic air flarf...
There is plenty of promise held in the future’s tightly clenched fist, and I look forward to prising those surprises from its grasp as the years unfold glorious and slow. I want to explain a concept i have had lately. I...
sorry for the last post, which was a bit drunken. I have left it up to help counter the more nuanced garbage that i usually write. What else have I been busy with? Wasting time in Minecraft again, on the AU...
ooh what a contradictory mess. bjm + fart + bandwagon + idiot wine + corck + bagawan at 6 to midnight. what about the water pissstol? i think there is a sort of revolution about to happen. I always think this....
a difficult wigwam walk down into Ettrema gorge.. the remotest place in the Budawangs perhaps.. endless scrub and scratches.. rock hopping starry nights, bottle of wine aka moorhose, wet splashy waterfall washes naked hopping into streams.. endless birdsongs hopping thru twiglets....
.back at ANU studying latin, greek, and rocks. I nearly bought somerset maugham and graham greene from a bookstore trestle table but found myself in electric shaddows bookshop buying frank moorehouse and geoff page instead, modern boys. I discover and like...
– thoughts flicker through the mountain ash of my tired brain – Happy new year to poets worldwide. May your spandangles glisten with the resemblances of a fertile whimsy. i drink whisky 2u. 1 dream last nite – lung cancer diagnosis...
if logic ate its tail, ala the serpent Ouroboros, through self referential recurrence, then perhaps we could get beyond it through mathematical sleigh of hand. Archiles approaches the tortise but they never meet up; tristram shandy never writes about the moment...
It occurs to me that the question ‘why do i feel?’ is answered through an exploration of that feeling, through an indulgence in the substrate of that question. To unrestrainedly debauch oneself in abeyance to the ultimate ‘why?’ is the path...
