Tuesday, March 27, 2007

William Carlos Williams - To Elsie

To Elsie


The pure products of America
go crazy–
mountain folk from Kentucky


or the ribbed north end of
Jersey
with its isolate lakes and


valleys, its deaf-mutes, thieves
old names
and promiscuity between


devil-may-care men who have taken
to railroading
out of sheer lust of adventure–


and young slatterns, bathed
in filth
from Monday to Saturday


to be tricked out that night
with gauds
from imaginations which have no


peasant traditions to give them
character
but flutter and flaunt


sheer rags-succumbing without
emotion
save numbed terror


under some hedge of choke-cherry
or viburnum-
which they cannot express–


Unless it be that marriage
perhaps
with a dash of Indian blood


will throw up a girl so desolate
so hemmed round
with disease or murder


that she’ll be rescued by an
agent–
reared by the state and


sent out at fifteen to work in
some hard-pressed
house in the suburbs–


some doctor’s family, some Elsie–
voluptuous water
expressing with broken


brain the truth about us–
her great
ungainly hips and flopping breasts


addressed to cheap
jewelry
and rich young men with fine eyes


as if the earth under our feet
were
an excrement of some sky


and we degraded prisoners
destined
to hunger until we eat filth


while the imagination strains
after deer
going by fields of goldenrod in


the stifling heat of September
Somehow
it seems to destroy us


It is only in isolate flecks that
something
is given off


No one
to witness
and adjust, no one to drive the car



Author: William Carlos Williams
Online Poetry at PoetryFeast.com

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Why did your employees ejaculate into my grandmother's milkshake?

This is just my sense of humour in a Digg post... An actual McDonald's FAQ, according to the Register.



read more | digg story

Thursday, March 15, 2007

How are you/You are Who?



I am OK. I am broke. I am dreaming that I am drunk. I am.
I.

Am I? Am I dreaming, am I drunk? Am I broke? But am I
OK?

I am maybe two hundred and forty five thousand euros in assets
more or less disposable
than me.

I am maybe tired, and need to sleep or maybe poor and need to work
before they dispose
of me.

I am maybe in love and uncertainly feeling something
breaking through the
books and
CDs and
car and
clothing,
kettles,
washers,
and the
weekly shop
that cradle me.

I buy new boots once every 14 months, whether they are required or
Not.
I spend some time with my family, but more on the Internet where I can be someone I'm
Not.
I shout at the television, and fear no argument, engagement, because the other person is
Not.
I am coming through in negatives, a shadow and a cutout, a silhouette, tied up like a series of
Nots.








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Monday, March 12, 2007

Jolie Holland sings "A Little Rain" by Tom Waits

Beautiful song, sung beautifully.

Jolie Holland rules.


For Mother's Day...

Mr T sings us a valuable lesson.




Think it's time to stop just posting videos and actually do some writing...

Friday, March 09, 2007

Tom Waits Doesn't Wanna Grow Up...

... and neither do I!


Friday, March 02, 2007

Facism is fun!

Australian, but relevant to all of us!

Dreamt for Lightyears in the Belly of a Mountain

Hope Mark Linkaus will forgive me for stealing his title. Just love the phrase. Here's a baby picture.