This tag is associated with 6 posts

a room to one’s own

i sat down to write after a hot day in the city but hemingway was complaining of a headache again because joyce was saying how he wasn’t saying enough yet which he also said was much too say and bukowski was belching about there being too many boys here and flaubert was responding in a … Continue reading

the best best

in a time where there feels like there is no time literature is peace even if it is rifling on about wars and showing that the tragedies that have come to the monkey business of the present swung before right into the stomach spitting out slippery words that need to be reinterpreted by the greatest … Continue reading

in the future there will be less of me

it is a pain not feeling much of anything but still not being still and without the pain of it is * i would tell you my opinion about politics but i’m told that this wouldn’t be very political * i am looking for the line that makes me stop looking and finally looks back … Continue reading

stuffed bellies digesting

reading is never alone for writing is always a loan * books like birds perched on warm shelves waiting for food for thought and more original truths that fly away but are hunted captured then wait around in a cage for nothing more than to be let back in the comfort of black margins * … Continue reading

the drool of rabies

dog eared books have a bite bigger than their bark if you give them your voice your teeth your tongue * if you were to annotate this you’d find that i included you in the whole when there wasn’t when and where you find me here consuming sky and sitting in freeze-dried stalagmites of concrete … Continue reading

Page 84

I’m in a library. There are many books around me. Some are on the floor. Others are littered over tables. There’s an organization to the stacks, but I don’t know it. They aren’t arranged by height or colour or any particular pattern I can recognize. I open one book and it’s in a language I … Continue reading