A Fiery Flying Roule:

to all the inhabitants of the earth; specially to the rich ones

(Source: landtetudes)

thinking of Tom, who took this photo on his birthday last month

http://tomraworth.com/notes/

Keston Sutherland: […] I wonder if it might help jolt the argument about appropriation and “subjectivity” out of its transparent dependence on identity-thinking. I suspect that most people on this list who have written poetry must have experienced the strain and complexity of self-recognition in writing: both how tediously identical to ourselves we sometimes feel when doubled up in the attitude of composition, how morbidly we remain just who we are, or think we are, and yet, at the same time and in the same place, as you say, how different we may also feel from anything we know was us before: bolted to the floor and spinning in space at once. At its most intense, that strain has sometimes felt infinite for me, in the sense that the logic of self-recognition and self-non-identification, the mess of holding on and letting go / being held and being let go, seems unlikely ever to be resolved into an identity I will feel content with and can relax into or carry out through the gift shop back to life, stolen or not. The idea that I could operate something called “the lyric I” simply by using the first-person pronoun and communicating facts about myself or expressing my feelings always seemed extremely absurd to me: the emotional quality, genre, grammatical transparency, power of denotation, semantic lability, irony and temporality even of a simple construction like “I did X” are all in a state of productive, turbulent unrest when poetry really feels like it works, I think. Acts of expression intended to be original, heartfelt and strictly personal or “subjective” can at the next blink look more like “appropriation” than a sentence transcribed unaltered from another text, just as acts of transcription done according to strict observation of procedures or rules can at the blink after look dumbly or beautifully “subjective”. I think Peter Manson’s Adjunct is a great text in part because it deeply knows this fact about language, and it deeply knows that it is also a fact about living a life. […]

 

It occurs to me that this is what I am: the poet of the box, the poet of boxes! If I could present what truly interests me, it would be something on the order of: the Platonic solids & the box kites of Alexander Graham Bell! Have you ever seen the old National Geographic photo of Bell & dozens of men pulling at a rope to get one of his giant kites (the shape of an abstract wing) into the air? That’s my idea of a good time! Actually, seeing kites at Bell’s “studio” in Nova Scotia was a galvanizing experience for me. There’s something quite magical about those geometric shapes and the delicacy of the materials (silk & very thin strips of wood). Well, I found it magical. A room of one’s own is a good idea, but a workroom filled with giant kites in various stages of construction strikes me as infinitely preferable. For a kite is a crystal made visible, a crystal you can see (inside out) & fly in the air.
[ John Taggart | cf. ] 

It occurs to me that this is what I am: the poet of the box, the poet of boxes! If I could present what truly interests me, it would be something on the order of: the Platonic solids & the box kites of Alexander Graham Bell! Have you ever seen the old National Geographic photo of Bell & dozens of men pulling at a rope to get one of his giant kites (the shape of an abstract wing) into the air? That’s my idea of a good time! Actually, seeing kites at Bell’s “studio” in Nova Scotia was a galvanizing experience for me. There’s something quite magical about those geometric shapes and the delicacy of the materials (silk & very thin strips of wood). Well, I found it magical. A room of one’s own is a good idea, but a workroom filled with giant kites in various stages of construction strikes me as infinitely preferable. For a kite is a crystal made visible, a crystal you can see (inside out) & fly in the air.

[ John Taggart | cf.

D-DAY
disjunct:

dearfox:

kevin harris

jesus fuck

disjunct:

dearfox:

kevin harris

jesus fuck

(Source: chewylives)

(thx KS)

Caetano Veloso (thx AW)

landtetudes:

Tienanmen 25