Ann Lauterbach writes: “To say sky in the face of sky / Is a failure of duration”
But Lily Brown reminds me that Mallarme offers:
"Revolt or flight is useless and absurd;
For I am haunted. The Sky! The Sky! The Sky!"
Things I can see while sitting on my bed:
a watering can
a birthday cake photograph lighting up all the chins in the frame
an empty purse & an empty hanger on the doorknob
3 electrical sockets
a wolf slowdancing with a girl
I forgot to give you the best text message roundup that I received in September. Here we go, from the second half of my birthday month:
1) “Watchin’ Dawnson’s Creek, foldin’ laundry.”
2) “JULIA JULIA JULIA in my dream we were flying with a murder of crows and then you bit one of those motherf*ckers on the beak for trying to out-fly you.”
3) “I have no umbrella. When it rains, I’m wet.”
I’ve been listening to Oh No, the XX, Baths (yes, still), and Mayer Hawthorne today.
This is happening tonight in Denver!!:
Laird Hunt will be reading from his new novel, Kind One, at Tattered Cover on Colfax, Tuesday, October 9, at 7:30 p.m.
2526 East Colfax Avenue, Denver
We can always see Gertrude Stein.
I miss seaweed. A landlocked heart. The mountains are an exit, a pile of vitamins, what books are afraid of. Your forest inclined to fur is duration. Paradise Cleaners & a barbershop. Or a fox that runs behind my bicycle like a friendly tail. To stay as long as— if the mountains will have me. Moody headphones & leaf-gleaning. Crystalline hibernation. A forest inside the cathedral like a desk drawer left open. What’s your longest feeling?