Place looks great, David. But I've forgotten how to talk. To you all

(please please
post post
appropriate me
I will write
a sonnet procession
of holy cities
rimmed in black
smoke out the pillars
four mouths afoot

What I mean is ideas in their sentences are so hard(ly) permanent! To complete. Fragments and pictures of poets yes, but even that is such a fuckin effort, even struggle, even that. Not as hard mind you as bombs being dropped on heads, or heads chopped quite literally off, or heads intact but sensitive and hurt dammit. But things have been so well here, with me, listen, it's true, I know you wouldn't believe it from the writing.

Plus (indicate sign: + and comma:), I'm reading and drinking all these things. Those of This Ingredient's guest-blogger, The Thorn, 'course, and Norma Cole's Nines and tens: a talk on translation, which is absolutely amazingly life-&-poetry changing (also one of the best pieces of philosophy I've read), and Theresa Hak Kyung Cha's Dictee, also known as a step away from miraculous and pure How'd She Do It.

Recent events include believing in astrology and loving a lot. Hello from the hole I send love though I may not know you -- in fact, even especially then.


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