after 10 months of nonstop production for my institution, and a perfectly disorganizing weekend of poetry and conversation production and rattling around apartments and institutions with white wine glasses in hand, and lacy underthings under the things no one took off, I am now on what appears to be steadfast mental re-evaluation vacation. all i want to do is lie in the park and read poetry, or fall asleep on the BART listening to poetry, or perch in the airconditioned cubicle arena reading poetry, and poetry blogs and poetry feeds and news feeds and news blogs and economy news and professional-marxist economy-evaluating news-poetry blogs, thinking about sex and grass and money and poetry (all of the kind you lie in), it's a mess over here/ I'm unraveling, which makes me feel steadfast and resolute in my perching against the machine warbling in a cubicle box thing warbling

Anything the sun can do, I can do it for you.

General Daily Horoscope for everyone
Mixed messages of dark and light blow in from the cosmos as beautiful Venus enters shadowy Scorpio to intensify our desires. Mental Mercury turns retrograde, turning our thoughts inward and increasing the chances for misunderstanding. To the contrary, the Moon enters demonstrative Leo at 5:13 am EDT, encouraging us to express the brighter side of love. A magical quintile between Venus and jovial Jupiter raises our spirits, helping us be more positive.

Pisces Horoscopes

(Feb 19 - Mar 20)

Yesterday | Today | Tomorrow

Wednesday, Sep 24th, 2008 -- You have a bit of investigative work to do because all the facts are not on the table. Someone may expect you to make a decision, but don't succumb to the pressure until you know what's really happening. Be patient and dig wherever your intuition suggests. Remember, even the tiniest detail can be a clue to what you need to learn.

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• Weekly Love Horoscope for Pisces
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• Monthly Forecast for Pisces
• All About Pisces

"bison shakes the alphabet"

Alas.

non.

the dead object collided with the live one and as in, "if you meet your anti-self don't shake hands!" : immediate vaporization of the image.
nothing's left of the structure of the fantasy. i'm in new neurological space.
can i status update?

I WANT YOU

I'm on the internet

making use of the internet

help friends

I've said yes to everything. Three chapbook-sized projects of my own. I herewith announce the printing of at least four of the TAXT upcoming chapbooks (so if you're writing one, FINISH UP). I am going to send work to every magazine and journal and blog who ever asked (thank you). I am going to finish the book THAT PARTICULARLY GREAT and infinitely patient PRESS is still waiting for. I am going to drag my weary ass to New York and give "a reading". All by the end of the year. Finally. I say this on the internet so you can shame me if I fuck up and spend the next four months cleaning my apartment or forget to get a plane ticket or plug in the printer or whatever.

Words of support, words of kindness, words of money, ass-kicking, cheerleading, massage, likker, lakewalks, did I say massage? all welcome/required. Honey you know I give it all back to you in spades.

Also I am going to do all this while tending the giant man-eating drooling motherfucking cute ass baby-monster my job is.

I love you, I love poetry, puppy pile it on me.

SS

Sunday

I'm in bed with books and movies of a hot August sunday. The Lake today abundantly Oakland/Lake Merritt-like. I woke up thinking, what's the opposite of absence makes the heart grow fonder? Familiarity breeds Contempt. I felt some of that in a sequence of recent hours.

The books I'm in bed with: The Golden Bowl, Alcools, Donald Judd's Complete Writings, Marxism & Poetry, The Voice Impersonator. The movies are The Pianist, Andrei Rublev, The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant. I'd rather have the first few episodes of Weeds, but this is what Netflix has deemed for my hot August-in-Sunday. The windows are open. Once I was diagnosed with an 18th c. malaise, Exhaustion, and sentenced to my bed for five days no leaving. Elise Ficarra brought me fruit. This afternoon I am self-sentencing: of the bed, and no leaving.

I read about the 700 pound man who was once the 1200 pound man; he has recently taken a vacation.

Someday a church more massive than the Vatican. I've been to the top of St. Peter's, friends.