chris murray's *Texfiles*

"A note to Pound in heaven: Only one mistake, Ezra! You should have talked to women" --George Oppen, _Twenty Six Fragments_





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xoxo Hey, E-Mail Me! xoxo







ManY PoETiKaL HaTs LisT:

Holly's Pirate-girl Hat, chrismurray in a straw hat, Michael Helsem's Gray Wyvern NOLA Fedora. Duchamp's Rrose Selavy's flirting hat. Max Ernst's Hats of The Hat Makes the Man. Jordan Davis' The Hat! poetry. hks' smelly head baseball cap. Samuel Beckett's Lucky's Black bowler hat, giving his oration on what's questionable in mankind, in *Waiting for 'God-ot'*. my friend John Phillips's 1969 dove gray fedora w/ wild feather. Bob Dylan's mystery lover's Panama Hat. Bob Creeley's Black Mountain Felt Boater Hat. Duke Ellington's Satin Top Hat. Acorn Hats of Tree. Freud's 1950 City Fedora. Joseph Brodsky's Sailor Cap. Harry K Stammer's Copper Hat Hell. Lewis LaCook's bowler hat(s). Tom Beckett's Bad Hair Day Furry Pimp Hat. Daughter Holly's black beret. harry k stammer's fez. Cat in the Hat's Hat & best hat, Googling Texfiles: crocheted hat with flames. Harry K Stammer's tinseled berets. Tex's 10 gallon Gary Cooper felt Stetson cowboy hat. Jordan Davis's fedora. Dali's High-heel Shoe Hat. Harry K Stammer's en-blog LAPD Hat & aluminum baseball cap. cap'n caps. NY-Yankees caps. the HKS-in-person-caps are blue or green no logos nor captions. Ma Skanky Possum 10's nighttime cap. moose antler hat. propeller beenie hat. doo rag. knit face mask hat. Bob Dylan's & photographer Laziz Hamani's panama hats. Mark Weiss's Publisher's Hat. Rebecca Loudon's Seattle-TX-Hats'n'boots.




Ever-Evolving Links:


Silliman's Links
Dominic Rivron
Unidentified
Br Tom @ One & Plainer
Dan Waber: ars poetica anthology
Dan Waber: altered books anthology
chris daniels: Notes to a Fellow Traveller
Chris Daniels: Toward an Anti-Capitalist Poetry
David Daniels: The Gates Of Paradise
subterranean poets: Beijing Poetry Group
Charles Alexander/Chax Press: Chaxblog
Headlines Poetry: the latest weblog entries
Henry Gould's AlephoeBooks
Julie Choffel's Understory
Tom Murphy's former one
Jean Vengua's New Okir
Roger Pao's Asian-American Poetry
Tom Lisk: Oilcloth and Linoleum
Kevin Doran
Reb Livingston's Cackling Jackal Blog
Janet Holmes: Humanophone
Lorna Dee Cervantes
Mark Young's gamma ways
Brian Campbell: Out of the Woodwork
Shanna's DIY Publishing Blog
Galatea Resurrects: a Poetry Review
Tom Beckett
John Sakkis: BOTH BOTH
New Francois Luong:Voices in Utter Dark, KaBlow!sm is...
Old Francois Luong: Voices in Utter Dark
Margin Walker: Andrew Lundwall
Free Space Comix: the latest BK Stefans blog
Adam Lockhart, Experimentalist Composer
Antic View: Alan Bramhall & Jeff Harrison
lookouchblog: Jessica Smith
MiPOradio
Web Log -- Charles Bernstein
Google Poem Generator: Leevi Lehto
Marie Mutsuki Mockett
Feral Scholar: Stan Goff
worderos: Tom Beckett
In Galatea's Purse
Japundit
Quiet Desperation: Jim Ryal
Luca Antara: Martin Edmond
Brief Epigrams: Ryan Alexander MacDonald
Radio My Vocabulary: 4 pm Sunday Poetry Streams
Mark Lamoreaux: [[[0{:}0]]]
Hot Whiskey Blog
louder
Nick Bruno: They Shoot Poets Don't They?
Joe Massey: Rooted Fool
Kate Greenstreet: every other day
heuriskein: Tom Orange
Chiaroscuro Metropoli: Tom Beckett
Behrle's latest spout!
Fluffy Dollars: Michelle Detorie
Jane Dark's Sugar High!
The Katherine Anne Porter Literary Center
(Charles) Olson Now: Michael Kellaher & Ammiel Alcalay
kari edwards' TranssubMUTATION
Notes on the Revival: Jeremy Hawkins
PurPur: Petrus Pokus
Snapper Missives: Scott Pierce
A Sad Day for Sad Birds II: Gina Meyers
Great Works: Peter Philpot
zafusy: experimental poetry journal
Writeboard: a collaborative writing tool
John Latta: Rue Hazard
KP Harris: Croissant Factory
Stephanie Young's New Site
Stephen Vincent's New Site
Portable Press@Yo~Yo Labs
Square America
Amy King's blog
Robert: Peyoetry Hut
Muisti Kirja: Karri Kokko
Karri Kokko's Blonde on Blonde
Yummeee Blog (recipes)
Nice Guy Syndrome: Tim Botta
Left Hook
Del Ray Cross: anachronizms
Juan Cole: Informed Comment
BuzzFlash - Daily Headlines, Breaking News, Links
Aaron McCollough
Chris Lott's Cosmopoetica
Chad Parenteau
Little Emerson
Fever, Light--by Sawako Nakayasu
Second Wish
Nomadics
Alison Croggon
Radical Druid
Ron is Ron: the Ron Silliman Cartoon by Jim Behrle
Dagzine: Positions, Poetics, Populations: Gary Norris
Shadows within Shadows: Tom Beckett
Self Similar Writing: Jukka Pekka Kervinen
The Little Workshop: Cassie Lewis
Sky Bright: Jay Rosevear
Poesy Galore: Emily Lloyd
Lisa Jarnot's Blog
Poetry Hut: Jilly Dybka (has moved here)
Pornfeld: Michael Hoerman
Seven Apples: Justin Ulmer
Hi Spirits: Andrew Burke
Bacon Bargain!: Joe Massey
Ivy is here: Ivy Alvarez
Whimsy Speaks: Jeff Bahr
Umbrella: Jeff Wietor
Chicanas! (Susana L. Gallardo)
Masters of Photography
Blog of Disquiet: Gary Norris' Teaching Blog
Suzanna Gig Jig
Bad with Titles: Jay Thomas
Spaceship Tumblers! Tony Tost
Desert City: Ken Rumble
E-Po
Zotz!
Optative Mood: Tim Morris
ecritures bleues: Laura Carter
The Ingredient: Alli Warren
Skanky Possum Pouch
Slight Publications
Jewishy-Irishy: Laurel Snyder
Sea-Camel: Alberto Romero Bermo
Growing Nations: Jordan Stempleman
Tom Raworth
Entropy and Me: Hal Johnson
Scott Pierce: Snapper's Junk
Chicano Poet: Reyes Cardenas
Semio-Karl M&M
Stephen Vincent
Hoa Nguyen/Teacher's & Writers
a New Word Placements
Narcissus Works: Anny Ballardini
Richard Lopez
Tributary: Allen Bramhall
The_Delay: Chris Vitiello
Jukka Pekka Kervinen: Nonlinear Poetry
Lanny Quarles: Phaneronoemikon
Clifford Duffy: Fictions of Deleuze & Guattari
DagZine
Carrboro Poetry Festival
Steve Evans: Third Factory
DEBORAH PATILLO
SKANKY POSSUM PRESS
Tim Peterson: Mappemunde
WOOD'S LOT
Geof Huth: DBQP
Ann Marie Eldon
Jim Behrle: The Jim Side
Ray Bianchi:Postmodern Collage Poetry
Never Mind the Beasts
Diaryo
New Broom
Flingdump Scattershot
Tony Tost: Unquiet Grave
Grapez
SB POET
Mark Young's Pelican Dreaming
|||AS/IS2|||
Li's A Private Studio
Anny Ballardini's Poet's Corner
Tom Beckett: Vanishing Points
Dumbfoundry
BadGurrrlNest
Jean Vengua's Okir
Hear-it dot org: info on hearing problems
Tim Yu's Tympan
James Yeager's Modern Lives
Tony Robinson: Geneva Convention
Daniel Nestor's Unpleasant Event
Ex-Lion Tamer
Carlos Arribas: Scriptorium
David Nemeth
Ela's Incertain Plume
Mairead Byrne's Heaven
Catherine Daly
Black Spring
Br.Tom's Finish Yr Phrase
Shin Yu Pai: makura-no-soshi
Harry K. Stammer: Downtown LA
Corina's Fledgling Wordsmith
Jilly Dybka's Poetry Hut
Ben Basan's Luminations
Katey: Chewing on Pencils
YaY!! Eileen Tabios: Chatelaine Poetics !
Jill Jones: Ruby Street
Geoffrey Gatza's BlazeVox
Bill Allegrezza's P-Ramblings
Gary Sullivan's Elsewhere
GoldenRuleJones
Poetry_Heat
Bookslut
Chickee's SuperDeluxeGoodPoems
As-Is !
John Latta's Hotel Point
Sawako Nakayasu's Ongoing Show
Shanna Compton's Brand New Insects
Crag Hill
kari edwards: transdada
Fluss
Michael Helsem's Gray Wyvern
Word Placement
Bogue's Blog
Jordan Davis: Equanimity
Robert Flach's Unadulterated Text
Michelle Bautista
Ironic Cinema
Mike Snider
Farewell Tonio!

In Through the Out Door
The Blonde Brunette
Awake at Dawn on Someone's Couch is Toast
Jukka-Pekka Kervinen:Non-Linear
Xpress(ed) !
Chris Lott's Ruminate
Venepoetics
Laura: Yellowslip
Stick Poet Super Hero
Mighty Jens!
Radio UTA: Toni's Thursday Poetry Show
Tim Morris: Lection
Gabe Gudding
Constant Critic
Sappho's Breathing
Waves of Reading
Jhananin's Insite
Fanaticus
AdvExpo
Stephen Vincent
Stephanie Young: New Well Nourished Moon
Kasey Silem Mohammad's Newest Limetree
Lanny Quarles: (solipsis)//:phaneronoemikon
States Writes
Rebecca's Pocket
Simulacro
Braincase Links
Sentence
Sor Juana
73 Urban Bus Journeys
Poeta Empirica
poetry for the people: canwehaveourballback?
Ernesto Priego's Never Neutral
Nick Piombino's Fait Accompli
Weekly Incite blogresearch
Jim Behrle's first monkey
Jim Behrle's Monkey's Gone to Heaven
David Kirschenbaum's Boog City
Not Nick Moudry
Laurable
David Hess Heathens in Heat
Jack Kimball's Pantaloons
Li Bloom's Abolone
Ron Silliman
Chris Sullivan's Bloggchaff
Chris Sullivan's Slight Publications
Chris Sullivan's Department of Culture
Kasey S. Mohammad's Old-New Limetree
Kasey's Old Limetree
James Meetze: Brutal Kittens
Cassie Lewis: The Jetty
Joseph Mosconi's Harlequin Knights
Nada Gordon's Ululate
ultimate: Stephanie Young's First Well Nourished Moon
Steve Evans: Third Factory
Noah Eli Gordon's Human Verb
Jean Vengua's Blue Kangaroo
Sawako Nakayasu: Texture Notes
Free Space Comix: BK Stefans
Crosfader
Malcolm Davidson's eeksy peeksy
Marsh Hawk Press group
Catherine Meng's Porthole Redux
Josh Corey's Cahiers de Corey
Very Nice! Shampoopoetry
UTA's Lit Mag: ZNine
Wild Honey Press
Jacket
JFK's Poetinresidence
Malcolm Davidson's Tram Spark poems
HYepez: RealiTi
HYpez: Mexperimental
Aimee Nez's Gila Monster
BestMaX: Jim Behrle's jismblog
Cori Copp's Littleshirleybean
Jordan Davis: Million Poems
Eileen Tabios: Corpsepoetics [see Chatelaine above]
YaY! Liz's Thirdwish
Ultra Linking
Henry Gould's HG Poetics




Saturday, July 03, 2004

 

Awwwwww... gee (blushing deeply) -- many thanks to Nemski.com for the good words about my chapbook Meme Me Up, Scottie! And btw, if anyone is interested in seeing it, then email me your address so I can send a copy out to ya. Email me at cmurray88ATyahooDOTcom


chris at 4:29 PM |

 

from Standard Schaefer's superb collection, Nova * :


CYCLONE

It was a gusty kind of house, rambling, brick
        on the inside
and on the outside the fence was all white
like the jury, only more aimless. South and west,
        abstract
as a wall casually tossed up, but invisible
        as the hand that fed us
I gave them mine and they gave me theirs,
        and we waltzed
        in front of
the headlights, outbound like rabbits or leaded gas,
the constant sleet of golf balls bearing down and wild
        engines,
sirens on the CB--and the old man's habit of high beams
cuando no pueden dormir en la noche, todos no pueden
        dormir

wind off the concrete pero no hay paz entre nosotros
having blown past the horrible immensity of no sirens singing,
        no crow where no sigh subjective
when the question is posed in relations of force.

(15)

* * *


LA CIUDAD DE LOS ANGELES

X-ray, Yankee, Zulu. Off with his redneck Ju Ju.
Wear bolder, roll up your windows, and sleep it off,
said el conquistador to the occupant who never stopped
        asking
          "What fort?"
and took the palm beneath the palms to that city
that was never mysterious only exclusive
everyone's crying "Where is the heart?"
habria hecho algo diferente--no es distinto
"My heart is a foreign object,"
the terrible ambiguity, the unproven click
of a latch swung in both directions

(17)



* Standard Schaefer, Nova. Los Angeles: Sun and Moon Press, 2001

~~~~~~~~~~copyright of Standard Schaefer~~~~~~~~~~~~cm o~o/


chris at 1:04 PM |

 

Some very fine work of Anny Ballardini's (another wonderful, former Texfiles Poet of the Week) just up at Nth Position. Do check it out.


chris at 11:21 AM |

Friday, July 02, 2004

 

Yipes: I don't understand this: why does the post that comes right after a preset html post, such as Marcus's poem below and my holiday wishes post just below here,change the margins of the preset html post?--changes it to flush right margin rather than flush left. I mean, it is an interesting feature, poetically, but it's not the effect I wanted, nor is it the way the poem was originally lined out. One of these days I'll get it figured out, ya kno? Meanwhile, it's a sign of my lack of knowledge about webstuff. Thanks for indulging.

And: apologies, Marcus, if this is not how you prefer the poem.


chris at 12:23 PM |

 

Wishing everyone a happy holiday weekend!


chris at 12:21 PM |

 

from Marcus Slease, Texfiles Poet of the Week: 


You'd never want to even TRY NEW SHOES,
because your OLD shoes are the VERY LAST SHOES
you will EVER WANT. ...



(((((((((((()(((((((((((((((((((
(()))))))))))))))))())))))))))))))(
))))))))))))))()))))))))))))))))()))))))))



There’s no magic
in money no mum
in the clouds no guess
list on the table thence
passion betrayal
is a streetcar full of slaphappy
dead tense oak come glory
dulled down metaphysics metacarpal
metacorporeal.



I breathe legions lesions liaisons

the weather he said

I said the weather

he said the weather
is not the issue ditto imagination
or stolen cuff links hibiscus cream jelly
sinister hands.

Resolve: mother many I.
Resolve: wolf crumbs.
Resolve: confess confess confess.

I cry with my little eye swollen on the brink.
The price of carnage never raised
past the eyebrow. Frankesteinian.

How divert, how diverse, how pervert,
how panic the tiger the temper mental elephant
the last good guffaw sent out the window.
I apologize, pluck out my eyes.
Overdid, bit the tit, froze sun.
O wearied one, mistreated, this is a search party.

My sad mistress, mother may I many one,
treason of all sorts, lifelines of bodies.

((((((((((((()((((((((((((((((((((()))
))))))))))))))())))))))))))))())))))))))
))))()))))))))))))))))()))))))))

In case you aren’t for the dogs you might turn
over a new leaf without two shins
to your name for example Krapp’s Last Tape by Mr. Samuel
Beckett interrupt memory memory interrupt a tape that will
not stop winding garbage can ON FIRE thirsty wings ON FIRE
it’s my party and I’ll sing during commercials Mr. Fib
what a lovely memory machine
act now with ALL THE BETTER and receive ALL THE SAME
for free that’s a 99.99 dollar value.

Here’s to the new
year
the new
leaf
the new
toadstool.

((((((((((((()((((((((((((((((((((())
)))))))))))))))())))))))))))))())))))))))))
))()))))))))))))))))()))))))))

In the waiting room mymymy what big tits cushion
for the pushin
and in the other corner
a little man with calculating machine.

The first symptom cannot be named.
It is neither fetal nor fatal.
Second symptom and so on.

((((((((((((()((((((((((((((((((((())))
)))))))))))))())))))))))))))())))))))))))
))()))))))))))))))))()))))))))

Brushed hair lopped off fat morning face a little
less chiseled than the night
before it wouldn’t do so they called for knives
serious engorgement with the body politic you are
what you eat: jellybean
the course of course a three course meal
supper double sized happy meal with lollygagging clown.

((((((((((((()((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))
)))))))())))))))))))))())))))))))))))()))))))
))))))))))()))))))))

Our friends compliment you on your new alligator
shoes and you're barefoot.
OLD IS WHEN you’ve suffered from the dry heat
winter plague of Alligator hide (dry flaky ... Mar 26 '03
Pros: soft smooth skin inexpensive)
Alligator Technologies:
lubricate rough skin with hyperallageneric
the horror film beauty starred in such classics as It
Conquered the World and The Alligator People
test probes have screw-on alligator clips
he pulled into a place called Alligator Jimmy's Fried
"See You Later, Alligator" "Razzle Dazzle" "Rudy's Rock"
ALLIGATOR BELT LACING TOOL, ... $49.98 -$125.00,
- BuyItNow, 6d 15h 52m.



~~~~~~~~copyright of Marcus Slease~~~~~~~~~~


chris at 12:06 PM |

 

Danny O'Connell!--how are you?--email me, please--let me know!


chris at 1:37 AM |

Thursday, July 01, 2004

 

A special post for the Zen-cool *Mr Malimbicus* : )

--from Paulo Leminski, as translated by Chris Daniels* (Chris, Hi!)--

from Chris Daniels's Introduction:

"Paulo Leminski Filho ... worked as a teacher and in advertising, and taught judo. He translated Joyce, Beckett, Mishima, Jarry, John Lennon, Petronius. ... If he were alive today he would remind us with utmost rude hilarity that reverence, if due at all, should not be owed him, but his work.

"... He was the fastest poem in the south, this 'Zen Anarchist' 'bandit who knew [L]atin' this erudite blackguard, rogue judoka, oxymoronic inhabitant of every artificial paradise (especially, and always, poetry)..." [italics are mine, here, for emphasis on what seems especially resonant to me--cm]


from Leminski's poetry in translation :


a letter an ember athwart
inside the text
cloud full of my rain
crossing the desert to me
the mountain way
the sea between the two
a syllable a sob
a yes a no a cry
signs to say us
when we are no more



nothing the sun
could ever explain

all the moon more
chic yet still plain

such flowers do not
fade in rain

...

back then
we were gonna be homer
the work an iliad no less

but then
it got a little harder
we'd settle for a rimbaud
an ungaretti a fernando any old pessoa
a lorca an eluard a ginsberg

and then
we ended up the provincial
poeticule we always were
behind so many masks
time treated like flowers
...



*Paulo Leminski, Meta(/other)poems. Translated by Chris Daniels. Edited by Chris Chen. Berkeley: Grand Quiskadee, 2003.

"TRANSLATION FIGHTS CULTURAL NARCISSISM"--chris daniels


~~~~~~~~~~~~~ZaZen, Y'all~~~~~~~ o~o/



chris at 6:11 PM |

 

Yes, "The lilacs!" [we all] "would never have known..." had you not so generously taken the time out to blog about it for us. Gee, Deborah, I was out of town and so missed this post by several days, but I got it now. Thanks so much for this grand image of lilacs in Russia. I just love thinking about it!


chris at 6:06 PM |

 

Wow! Many thanks, Tom Beckett, for the great post,
detailing the inaugural issue of
Steve Tills' new journal, Black Spring!


chris at 12:58 PM |

 

YaY!! Black Spring is on its merry pranksterish way to Tex

Okay, I finally cleared out the 500 spam emails from my university box, and then got the Yahoo box up and working. Was able to respond to Steve Tills--and ever so gladly!--he's sending me copies of the first issue of his Black Spring lit journal to share around here, which includes work from one of my all time favorite poets/activists, kari edwards, as well as work from Catherine Daly and Steve's own cool work (more on that coming up here tonight or tomorrow & hey, I guess I should also say this inaugural issue even includes some of my work!). More on Black Spring as soon as it arrives here.

So, stay tuned!

: )


chris at 12:06 PM |

 

from Joseph Brodsky : *

Venice: Lido


A rusty Romanian tanker, wallowing out in the azure
like a down-at-heel shoe discarded with sighing pleasure.

The crew, stripped to their pants--womanizers and wankers--
now that they're in the south, sun themselves by the anchors,

without a coin in their pockets to do the city,
which closely resembles a distant pretty

postcard pinned to the sunset; across the water, flocking
clouds, the smell of sweaty armpits, guitars idly plucking.

Ah, the Mediterranean! After your voids, a humble
limb craves a labyrinth, a topographic tangle!

A camel-like superstructure, on its decaying basis,
through binoculars scans the promonade's oasis.

Only by biting the sand, though, all tattoos faded,
can the eye of the needle truly be negotiated

to land at some white table, with a swarthy darling
of local stock, under a floral garland,

and listen as wide-splayed palms, above the bathhouse pennant,
rustle their soiled banknotes, anticipating payment.

1989


(52)



* Joseph Brodsky, So Forth. NY: FSG, 1996.


chris at 11:38 AM |

 

I'm just blown away:

by a baby picture, so happily!--

Jill Stengel sent me an email
with a beautiful picture of her wondrous
new child, Calder Joseph Hilliard, born 14 April,
this year. I would love to say aloud
and to give hugs

but here I am instead, in this non-material
blogosphere space:

So, here goes, in tribute:


Oh, YaY!!--dear Mama Jill, Daddy Andy & family--

The power of many light years
& stars leaning to go to you all, always
& with volumes of the bright-strewn
heaven path that cannot be grasped
yet is always song
with its beloved thumb press to being
goodness & the best
of so much
love

oh, yes, in its many sparkles against ceilings of hot nights & human
attempts: thus means to weave its beloved
cotton to cool
percale & sweet dreams
of summer window breeze
& stars & moon yet of always
& of supple dare:

the threads that weft to say
and to be "love" for this new child,
your beloved Calder!



life's best to you all--
xoxoxoxoxo

chris m



chris at 12:55 AM |

 

Geez. Also went to a baseball game. It rocked! I wish summer would just let itself last all year long--know what I mean?

Big fireworks at the end of the game.
Loved it,
yeah!


chris at 12:11 AM |

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

 

literal/figurative & so provocative:


Get (apropos a)

Voca

(hummmmmm) Tiva.


Ah, some very nice posts there, Hannah: thanks much.


chris at 11:44 PM |

 

& o hey (via the Rolling Stones):
dont-cha think ya need a woman's touch ta make ya come alive?

"I went down
to the demonstration to get my fair share
of" ya huh

they say "abuse"
& I have to say also

"about"


chris at 11:25 PM |

 

the blue light was my baby

the red light was my mind
--

might have to blog all night

to keep some

kind



oh some kind of


blasted from


chris at 11:21 PM |

 

Dept of Has to Be Said even if I am a fool:

I am in love
with the ocean.
I had two hours of ocean on Sunday.
I loved every second of (time cannot hope to encompass) it
and found many shells.
Mostly they are ordinary & that is what I also love.
I'm looking at them right now.
It was the Atlantic Ocean.
Hard to think this is true, but,
nice gentle sands, too.


chris at 10:53 PM |

 

Listening: But if you try sometimes...


(A blunt tribute to Mick et al: in kind)


Rolling Stones o who'dja think ye be
to Let It Bleed
& for one more thing

who will say this:

there's just something about that girl

say titles suck literally

to that track, the title & the track
the track & all those tracks

I

love

to song it along
& it can
still
make me

shiver'n like a girl
ya kno?

And then it's all o
baby

about "Gimme
Shelter"

"Monkey Man," or
"Midnight Rambler"
you-all
honky-tonk
& workin' it
topped

off with some cheery-
(dare

the girl-type
say cherry-chocolate
(woo hoo) licks:

(um... oh hey
& by the way...
& don'tcha just know) "You Can ('t stop
it now just holler
I o lopside the

body gender genre) Always
Get What (my I/)You Want"

right?
Yeah.

Damn-straight. I hope
you guys keep sex

after it
another forty--

or hey why not four hundred?--

years--
of lovin'
to musicate those ol' rusted up stages
of boy bio (or in for example, Brit novels,
they say: boy-o)
between folks?

Stones,
you are
still so finely round
to the palms of my delicato
otherwise

so would be
too much the raised edge

shale & clam

shell or dare
one to come
right out & say

no need to polish
the fingernails or up so
to shine &
(stones are) hard?
unbelieveably right-on-it
yeah
oh you
are so.


chris at 8:38 PM |

 

a big YaY! for Tony Tost--check this out (found via Marcus Slease's blog):

Tony Tost's volume... may be read in almost any order and for any length of time and will unfailingly immerse the reader in a world of fantasy, of arbitrary incident and teasing non-narrative, of spin-dizzy diction and slaphappy phraseology. Once in a while a statement falls so flat it elicits a slack-jawed "Duh!" ("What the swans look like: white, with feathers"), but most of them are amusing, even when annoying: "Something bad happens every June and I am disappointed it happens during June and not to June directly."--review by Fred Chappell, of Tony Tost's Invisible Bride (LSU Press, 2004), in today's News Observer, a paper out of the North Carolina region of Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill.



chris at 1:22 PM |

 

from Marcus Slease, Texfiles Poet of the Week :


POG GLOP


He is, in all modesty and honesty, "just doing his job"—insuring that what we really think, and what we actually say, is a tight fit. Attention to details. Honesty. Integrity. Timeliness. Complete satisfaction. In all honesty, there’s too much “fluff’ here – and I don’t care purp is straight honesty.

She will really admire your honesty and cautious personality given which contrary to the Horatio Alger myth anti-Americans always reward greedy and ruthless individuals over those who aspire to honesty, integrity and hard work .

(NOTE: The summary for this Japanese page contains characters that cannot be correctly displayed in this language/character set).

Follow the steps below to begin POG (come back to items I can't live without: "Lukewarm water, good coffee, friendship, Butterfinger A Pot of Gold Coffee a wide range of hot beverage choice from standard to gourmet products).

Each player starts with four POG designer series.

We discussed our POG "Family Night" which will be on Dec. 4th cthulhu-philes love a good cock or dogfight and so do billions of kids now thanks to the latest POG-like rage.

(In other words: kids — make sure you get your parent's permission before you begin play).

Thanks must also DEFINITELY NOT GO to my other roommate, laughing boy MARK, who never made any coffee or cleared the trash in the kitchen.

Blue Raiders survived and achieved, this season could be the cornerstone of many great things to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~copyright of marcus slease~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



chris at 1:12 PM |

 

from Carl Rakosi: "Bush that bastard"

& RIP, Carl Rakosi, 1903-2004

Maybe y'all have seen this already (I'm coming back around now to add this parenthetical after reading some blogs: I see especially that Dumfoundry has some nice posts about this, so do check them out, too ), but because I was out of town and away from electronics, I just heard about it via emails from John Tranter and Barry Schwabsky (thanks--glad to have the news, even if it is a little sad). Anyway, the good part of the news (quoted from their emails) gathered from a message from Jen Hofer, goes like this:

"Tom Devanny writes:
Poet Carl Rakosi died on Friday afternoon June 25
at the age of 100, after a series of strokes,
in his home in San Francisco.
He was with his family and they were reading Mark Twain
and listening to music when he died.
Jen Hofer writes that Carl's last words,
or nearly-last words were these:
'A hospice worker had come by in the morning
to set things up with them and she was asking
Carl if he knew what day it was (he didn't);
or what month (he thought it was September);
or what year (he didn't know); and then she
asked him who the president is.
He hesitated and Barbara (his daughter) was
thinking that maybe he didn't know that either,
but after a pause he said 'Bush - that bastard!' "


Here's a poem by Carl (with a photo) from the very first issue of
Jacket, 1997:

Carl Rakosi, "The Citizen (1996)," in John Tranter's Jacket Magazine, issue # 1

Also, do note from John Tranter that Jacket will publish more material, including a conversation between Carl and Tom Devanney, in
Jacket 25.





chris at 11:18 AM |

 

Hi, Y'all! Just back from an added week of travel, with no electronic media. It was great, but I missed texfiles! Great to be back, and to pick up the blog pen again, though it will be a bit before I can get too serious: I'm cleaning out scads of spam from my university email account, and my email there appears not to be functioning, so if you want to contact me, please do so at my yahoo address:

cmurray88 at yahoo dot com

More poetry coming up soon!

: )


 

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