Yuh

Yeah, hey, hi,

it is weird even to have thoughts condsidering...i have to admit that thoughts are more destroyable now than a month ago. we continue to be able to cry over weather. i think you said yourself, lauren, that all the weather in the southeast has been positively biblical, and it's true, but the krustians whose presumption is that they would see these things have made a magic of their bureaucratizing of this event...anyway, one hopes for insights one never receives.

uh, i hate poetry. i wish i could indict poetry. i've been going round to j. corey's blog once in a while on the suggestion of a friend, and remain unimpressed even by his impressive intellect and clear appreciation of poetry.

i think i want more hate of poetry. to paraphrase the musician robert forster, "let's burn this land."

Poetry Is a Destructive Force

That's what misery is,
Nothing to have at heart.

It is to have or nothing.

It is a thing to have,
A lion, an ox in his breast,
To feel it breathing there.

Corazon, stout dog,
Young ox, bow-legged bear,
He tastes its blood, not spit.

He is like a man
In the body of a violent beast.
Its muscles are his own...

The lion sleeps in the sun.
Its nose is on its paws.
It can kill a man.


This has never been known to me more than today. I am in the racuous hue of october summer sun, california sycamores and gossamer and webs, and i hate a world that i can only ravage with poetry, that's all. that's it. that poetry is ours only to destroy our attentions.

rage rage rage, i bought ronald reagan stamps today at the liberal post office.

I went to brenda's book release party the other day. intensely bourgeois, but at lease hemmed around by intensities of loss. though i hate to admit it, even in their comforts the boomers must be experiencing a grave loss, all the more so for their complicity in it - loss of ideals, loss of country, loss of purposes, propped only by friends and fellow travelers.

I have to acknowledge a debt to the boomers, much as it pains me - though i have a hard time believing their cant, their idealism cannot be dismissed as a polestar, no matter how willing we are to sneer and ironize them into impotence.

this will happen to us.


quick to anger and forgetting.