Pssst. / Wanna buy / an aircraft carrier?
Just the one owner, a little old lady who only took it out on Sundays.
If you're interested, here's where to go.
today / the postman / tomorrow the world
He used a simple
to install short-term
parking that limited
photorealism to a
handful of documentary
films from China for
which a bilingual hard-
cover edition was also
available. The process
small amounts of
Papaya Enzyme Peel.
me a concrete
poem. Just two
both of us to
carry it inside.
been known to call the city where I live the redneck capital of Australia, have described it, at various times, as being racist, patriarchal, bigoted, xenophobic, homophobic, chauvinistic, out of step with the contemporary world. & that's just what I've said publicly.
I didn't ever think I'd be provided with proof to back up my assertions. But, all things come—or, at least, some of them do—to those who wait.
There's a fair amount of discussion currently going on in politics about same-sex marriage. The Federal Labor Government has, along with the conservative Coalition, opposed it; &, so, in the past, because this has been, primarily, a two-party national electorate, it was never going to get an airing. But the dynamics of the new parliament, with its independents & a Green, have meant that a lot of possible legislation is now coming forward. Labor still opposes same-sex marriage officially, but it's a plank of the Greens' policy, & there's a lot of, now open, support coming from members of the Federal Labor Party, so it's something that is likely to be voted on in Parliament in the current term.
There have been a number of opinion polls carried out, one of which measured support for the statement "I believe homosexuality is immoral." The pro-respondents to that survey statement have now been plotted against the federal electoral divisions, &, surprise, no surprise, " . . . the highest proportion (44.7 per cent) was recorded in the Queensland coastal seat of Capricornia."
a couple of quite good British short season crime series recently. Both from the BBC, but very different. One was Sherlock, a contemporary rendering of the Conan Doyle character, in a style reminiscent of Dr Who—which is not surprising given that most of the writers & directors are Time Lord alumni—& with Dr Watson portrayed as being a much more serious & substantial character than the bumbling representations we have previously seen, & injured in a much more contemporary Afghan war.
The other series was Luther, with the lead character, a DCI in a Serious Crime Unit, played by Idris Elba whom I hadn't realized was an English actor, having only seen him previously as Stringer Bell in The Wire. It's a bit cliché- & angst-ridden, & more than a bit over the top at times, but Elba is a strong enough actor to hold it all together.
Wasn't their mother the one who wrestled a grizzly, bare? & likely to be the next Republican Presidential candidate?During the premiere of "Sarah Palin's Alaska" Sunday night — a boy named Tre who went to school with the Palin kids wrote a status update that read, "Sarah Palin's Alaska, is failing so hard right now."
The comment sparked an intense response from Willow — who replied on the boy's wall, "Haha your so gay. I have no idea who you are, But what I've seen pictures of, your disgusting ... My sister had a kid and is still hot."
Willow followed up that comment with another that read, "Tre stfu. Your such a faggot." Bristol Palin also got in on the smacktalk — writing a message to Tre saying, "You're running your mouth just to talk shit."
Reading poems, such as “Whoever Answers the Door”, in Philip Byron Oakes’ second book Sard, reminds one of a grandiloquent room—very modern and posh with amenities, and at the ready to receive the exhilarated mob attempting to enter all at once, in a crush of three or four abreast, through a door constructed for one and one only to enter in style. Luckily we have Philip Byron Oakes to defuse the chaos, magically narrow the door, creating tension, putting things in order, resetting the ratio of things to their meaning once again. The thrill of exhilarated facts, “the whirlwind scuttling/a moment of stillness”, of cultural information streaming off of each page at the speed of sound, places the reader at the crux of a savant’s poetic genesis, displacing the literal with the dancing heads of the figurative and in a big way. Often joking while performing his circus of fire eating acts, he gets around to lavish spectacles “Sooner or loiter.” Details mount and accrue, as what is real—objective—is less satisfying to observe than the ritualized, impeccably imbedded electrical buzz and charge of these manic fragmented tableaux holding place as they surge. Oakes writes as he guns the motor. There is a sense of vertigo that appeals to one’s right brain and left brain simultaneously. The language swirls—a whirlpool of stochastic images encountered without fault. The poems are, I feel, impressively unimpeachable—shards of focus as imagined works of art. What we are witness to is the random miracle seemingly made plain—a vase of flowers torn from a table by a cyclone in Kansas (the house ripped to kindling) and placed down serenely in Sarasota or Reno without so much as a petal harmed. Such is the force of the poems in Sard. Sard is a chaotically ruled, brilliantly conceived, devastating regime of organic and supra-organic devices that are as delightful to think about and ponder, once having read them, as they are to read. —Raymond Farr, editor of Blue & Yellow Dog
A man accused of tattooing a 40cm penis on another man's back has appeared in Ipswich Magistrates Court.
Matthew Francis Brady of Bundamba had one of his assault charges upgraded to grievous bodily harm as a result of an incident on October 18 at Ebbw Vale in Queensland.
The alleged victim, Chester Ives, 25, had agreed to have some Yin and Yang symbols and dragons tattooed on his back but was shocked to discover a 40cm penis and testicles with an obscene slogan.
The pair had argued beforehand, and Brady, unqualified as a tattooist, suggested the tattoo as a peace offering using an at-home tattoo kit.
Ives is now facing nine months of treatment to have it removed.
There's a great Bobby Timmons call & response tune called "Moanin'", recorded when Timmons was with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, given words later by Jon Hendricks—Every morning finds me moanin' / yes, lord / cause of all the trouble I see / yes, lord—with, of course, the "lord" a fifth lower than the "yes." One of those numbers that, once heard, stays with you.
Was reminded of it today by a conjunction of bird song. A koel, static in a tree, & a passing family of black cockatoos. Actually, song is a generous description. The koel, as I've gone on about at length before, has, in addition to the simple ko-el cry that gives it its name, an extended play version, a shrill spiralling piercing call, repeated often when it's horny. & it's breeding season now.
Part of my earlier rant:My bird book describes it as monotonous endlessly repeated "koo-eel". It's sort of like a slide (or swanee) whistle, with the koo rising in a glissando to the eel at the end. But when it's looking for a mate, don't think "put a cork in it" (though you pray for that to happen), think "corkscrew", for its call rises in a feverish accelerating crescendo. & to make it worse, it's nocturnal as well as diurnal.The white cockatoo has a raucous shriek, as annoying as the koel. But the black cockatoo—more precisely the red-tailed b.c.—has a single syllable call, "a rolling metallic krur-rr or kree, which may carry long distances and is always given while flying." Different birds, however, emit that call at different pitches.....
So, this morning, perfectly synchronized, the koel's glissando—every morning finds me moanin'—& then black cockatoo #1—yes—followed by b.c.#2, a fifth lower—lord. Koel—cause of all the trouble I see. Yes, lord from the cockatoos.
& on, & on. & then I finish off the middle eight for them. But I pray really and truly pray to find some relief. Don't mind the cockatoos—they're great birds, one of my favorites. But can't stand the ko-hell, even when they're doing standards.
At Trotsky's Funeral is a companion volume to the author's speculative novella, the allegrezza ficcione, which has already been described as "a 21st century classic."
It gathers together nearly all of the poems & short prose pieces that Mark Young calls, collectively, ficciones, a term coined by Jorge Luis Borges. They're not about alternative universes, rather histories of the current one tweaked a little—Genghis Khan as a member of the Barnum & Bailey circus, the movies that accompanied Mao's Long March, the origins of the bullfighting move known as the veronica & the popular song Bye Bye Blackbird.
Martin Edmond, in his Landfall review of Pelican Dreaming: Poems 1959-2008, wrote: "These ficciones both parody and explode causality as it is usually understood and thereby make available to us, not just an alternate past to our provisional present but a future literally beyond our understanding: as a real future must be."
About the author;
Mark Young's poetry first appeared in the N. Z. Listener in 1959. Since then, his text & visual poems, prose, essays & reviews have been published & anthologized in many countries, in both print & online journals, & have been translated into a number of languages. He is the author of more than twenty books, published primarily in the U.S.A., but also in Finland, Australia, New Zealand, Sweden & the U.K.
Available at Parsons Bookshop in Auckland & Dunedin Public Art Gallery Shop.
Now orange. The color changed through chemical impurities. & is pure.Move in then, reset the paradoxes. They seem to have stopped working.Su Shi, a famous Song Dynasty poet, said, "It is a return to the time before time, & historical timelines with inaccurate calendars can have significant impact by adding unreasonably to your costs."
The fact that
reporters from Fox
News probably tells
about both parties.
The gnomes are bored
with being enigmatic. Have
dumped the seasonally
changing menu &
its old world sensibilities—
the summery chic of
Gucci's classic synth-pop
with inflected voice, the
yodelling electronic loops
of Dolce & Gabana's
favor of a, one size fits
all & at the same time,
more dissonant, with
scratchy feedback. But
still manages to keep
precise time under water.
issue #19 of Otoliths is live, it means that I'm three print editions behind.
So, noses to the grindstone, children. No supper until you've done your homework.