Hang it all Anthony buRgEsss! LRB | Colin Burrow : Not Quite Nasty

Changes: turns out this review is quite reductive and personal as well. Onewonders, is there envy at the heart of the critics who lambast Burgess even after death? this indeed
is partially what he states in the second volume
of his auobioraph: the critics, I never understood. Not having yet read the biographee yet , nothing to say.

LRB Colin Burrow : Not Quite Nasty: "Not Quite Nasty
Colin Burrow
The Real Life of Anthony Burgess by Andrew Biswell: Picador, 434 pp,20.00(pounds)
"There is an awkward period in the lives of clothes, furniture and writers, when they become something more than dated but something less than a piece of history. We call things that have reached this state 'unfashionable', and usually throw such stuff away without thinking any more about it. Everyone sees a 1960s sideboard or a 1980s haircut as dated, and, beyond an embarrassed smile at our folly for ever having admired such cheesy horrors, these things rarely give rise to any thought."

This biography sounds like a wonderful corrective to that dreadful book by Roger Lewis, which was 'funny' in it own
perverse and mean-spirited way (for instance, Lewis begins by meeting with Burgess and Richard Ellman, at Oxford, with Ellman playing teacher biographer to Lewis), as well
as being reductive of Burgess and his life. Which doesn't mean everything in it was not true... But that is another story. Hagiographies, biographies, blogographies.

photo of Burgess from

"Andrew Biswell’s new biography, which generously allows Burgess’s friends and enemies to speak in their own voices, flushes out the worst aspects of Lewis. It presents Burgess’s life with a sobriety and care that are at once admirable and slightly chilling. Burgess’s life was always one of the main sources of his fiction, so much so that his two volumes of autobiography, Little Wilson and Big God (1987) and You’ve Had Your Time (1990), make it very hard to work out where life ends and art begins. Many of the central events of his life became stories, which were retold in different versions on talkshows and in novels. How much time did his father really devote to playing the piano in the local cinema in Manchester, as against his less glamorous day job as a tobacconist? Was his mother really a music- hall starlet known as the Beautiful Belle Burgess? Biswell kindly remarks that no lady of that name appears on any of the playbills he’s examined. "

It sounds as fun as reading the master Burgess himself, and his many legendary selves of learning and fictionalizing. For instance, the story of having written a master's thesis about Marlowe. Who has ever seen this?

Everyone knows writing a dissertation, while bombs are
falling overhead is not possible, now is it?

O dear O fictions of Popes and Ropes
Read on O Writer Reader Reader Writer
Re-Compose thy selves and Drafts

there can Only Be One Don Van Vliet_ Hang it All Ez

is this the last supper ?
is there gonna be a Last Supper?

Wee Montage by yer humble Blogger

Kandy Korn

Originally appeared on Strictly Personal

Yellow and orange and
Well they taste so good I want to eat 'em
And they taste so good I get to need 'em

Candy corn
yellow and orange and
candy corn
yellow and orange and
be reborn
be reformed
stay stay warm

Don Van Vliet's early writing partner found and interviewed
The Radar Station is very proud to present the first part of an extensive telephone interview with Don Van Vliet's early writing partner, Herb Bermann.

Think of All you ever do is Blabber N Smoke

that song _

in the mood for love John Lee Hooker & Bonnie Raitt

his "I'm In The Mood" duet with Bonnie Raitt

"I was born with the blues,
and I just dig it.
Nothing else I want to do,

and I wouldn't do

any-thing else in

the world but this."


When I go

a pome by Roethke, i like the re-versa-l of the normal discourse between sender receiver etc. He sort of reminds of Christopher Smart.

Theodore Roethke

When I go mad, I call my friends by phone:
I am afraid they might think
they're alone.

How stand to now near
its decades after a then
was now its alive not
fear weeps into the terrace

of his giving and sweet lamb
svelte tail of her spray whisper
my darling


there Can only be one John Lee Hooker||and One Robert JohnSon|One and Many

John Lee _

Robert Johnson

AKA Robert Leroy Johnson

Born: 8-May-1911
Birthplace: Hazlehurst, MS
Died: 16-Aug-1938
Location of death: Greenwood, MS
Cause of death: Murder


remembers rosy-cheeked & the pale

Jan Vermeer
+ + +
Die Milchmagd
Vermeer war ein Genremaler. Obwohl er hohe Auszeichnungen für seine Bilder bekam, starb er als sehr armer Mann.

The milkmaid
Vermeer was a painter of household genre. Although he received high prices for his paintings, he died a very poor man.
+ + +

• Holland/Dutch
Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam


who remembers the Duchess of Malfi?

I do .

When I saw this painting I see the Duchess..
of Malfi_ she is a Kierkegaardian heroine.

Or Amy Lanyer

its the work the work which counts work work work whatever one is doing
work do more do less do do do. do. time tick. counts. do
no matter what think. do. do and then do more. dont die, dont stop. work.
work. never mind the definitions or the ideas. the ideas are in the work.,
the theory is in the practice. the practice is in the do. get to the point where do is die is do is do is do . breath do. do do. breath do. sleep do. love do. rest do. And then i ask myself myselves the believers is this the production machine of misery? of work. no.


do and do its fun and fun and more. its do and fun and fun do do . hahah dodododo fun? capi fun capi fun capitalist fun. notso serious as all that dreadful becoming. I hereby renounce the becoming that I claimed so High and Hyped and Mighty of becoming before. I diddle diddle the Cow and Fiddle Denounce Deleuze and Guattari! themselves! my fathers and mothers!

so its do dodod do. And i renounce the others too. I nounce them
and nounce them and Nounce them!!

Flounce them!
Scrog Them

Give me my Cup of Tea!

"The ascription of beauty to truth and to meaning is either a rhetorical flourish, or it is a piece of theology. It is a theology, explicit or suppressed, masked or avowed, substantive or imaged, which underwrites the presumption of creativity, of signification in our encounters with text, with music, with art. The meaning of meaning is a transcendent postulate...it is the enterprise and privilege of the aesthetic to quicken into lit presence the continuum between temporality and eternity, between matter and spirit, between man and`the other.´"
Real Presences, George Steiner

I think it s interesting to set this beside Keat's idea of the Egotisical
Sublime, and the Negative Uncertainty (in the letters... think of this guy younger than my father at the time, writing these letters, writing the things he did, meeting Wordsworth, ... dying in Italy.. a few years younger than Arthur Rimbaud... it so funny! he studie to be a pharmacist... the poet as drugstore operator that idea pops up and reappears in one of Tzara's earlier pomes... the poet is a druggust he says... ). Beauty is truth and etc. from that famous poem...

and presence, what presence in a body in a unreal world?

O Duchess! O my Duchess!

Webster and Browning the Ring and the Book
the wrong and the right! or the flight!

By George we need no more Secondary Cities.
But think of Pope and his Enormous

Apparatuses _ is that how you spell the word?

Notes and inner notes, and quotes
within quotes and coats
within bodies
and bodies within bodies
and dreaming in side fantasy and hands
over the astral waves

and presences inside magic carpets
which wing us to the


On the other hand, Steiner is topheavy. as they say.

How's this?

Alberto Giacometti: When I walk down the
street and see a girl walking ahead of me, all dressed up,
I see a girl. When she is in the room and naked before
me, I see a goddess.
Jean Genet: For me a naked woman is a naked woman.
She doesn't make much of an impression. I certainly
cant see her as a goddess. But I see your statues
the way you see naked girls.
Giacometti: You think I manage to show them
the way I see them?

The Studio of Alberto Giacometti _ Jean Genet.

Giacometti does not work for his contemporaries, nor
for the generations to come:
he makes statues that ultimately delight the dead.

To be among the dead, wandering
like Ulysses and Orpheus
Antigone and Eurydice

there is so much to absorb and always has been
I could kill myself, the wealth of it overwhelms
me. the wealth of world art, and nothing
a fraction seen with my own eyes.

What eyes do I have?
The museum without Walls will have to do.

My City, my beloved,
Thou art a maid with no breasts

283. N. Y._ Ezra Pound

I know where is an hind

moxy & funk

now those are two words you dont
hear very often. got moxy?
its funky. I love that word
funky. to me something
funky is solid impeccable
available down to,
earthy. Angela's voice
is funky. One piece
is working.
As for the cello.
it terrifies me in its beauty.
as for the stand-up
and its deep vertical
rilling sound trickling
no not trickling
' the earth

for now
as the bassist has got a gig
is that how you spell it
in Winnepeg. so we're on hold.
im reading tongue twisters
to improve my enunciation
and speech.
jaws need work.

need space.

throats need tonic

you dig
my daughter?


a thread of tune

Guattari's voice on the cdrom repeating "le ritornello,le
ritornello...' somewhat hi pitched
not quite as I

one v entures from home on the thread of a tune

o r chune as Yeats pronounced


as Pound exclaimed






Joyce exhaled


two new hours cbc


this programme no longer exists, it disappeared, and i've no idea what became of those
ideas and the content,


Sofia Gubaidulina

February 19

Two New Hours and the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra present a concert from the WSO's New Music Festival, called EARTH TO HEAVEN

Guest Artists:
Xiao Nan, flute
Elenor James, vocalist
Ivan Monighetti, cello

The Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra is conducted by Andrey Boreyko.

Music includes:

Olga Victorova
(Russia): Rhythms of the Earth (13:00)

Jim Hiscott (Canada): North Wind (World Premiere - 12:00)

R. Murray Schafer (Canada): Thunder: Perfect Mind (12:00)

Jennifer Higdon (U.S.A.): Blue Cathedral (11:00)

Sofia Gubaidulina (Russia/Germany): And: The Festivities at their Height (Und: Das Fest ist in vollem Gang) (30:00)


        the artists still exist                       ____________________ one imagines
            however, the show's gone,



mixes| cry good news so

mixes cry so much good news it comes
her voice and mine blended like
soaring eagles? hahahah not so funny!
Maestro! i t was


D u D

which is fine and better than I expected.
or expectorated.

voice and bass and cello 're not so simple
to meld and mate and mix or fix and unfix
the decomposition of voice words and cello
blooming, if I can put it that. I keep
hearing baroque piano and quick violins.

and like Allan once
said there is nothing, and it's true, its true,
there's nothing as sexy as a cello between a woman's legs
especially S's. SHe is naturally body sexy
and completely more or less unthinking. Her
body slides into the cello.

well workingwith David made this magic
or easy. now we're a new crew, excepting Angela,
and its an interesting week. I am relieved,
truth to be told, that things 'll move along
slowly. Rushing to 'perform' has never been
my forte, neither in artistic performance or
relationships. So we go back to Studio 1
next week and work on 2 other pieces
let the last lie fallow while the old brain
'chews it over' seeing what comes forth.
meantime poetry is always being or
becoming in deleuzoguattarian terms,
and poetry without rhythm, I've decided
is not poetry at all, but piddle. or
something else, a form of language
practice which I dont think
is even the same genre, though
the terms have become inflated in
all sorts of unnecessary manners.

for now
we are puffed.

and roughed up with the wheat of voice .


w o n
der f u l




but really my musical sense
is arrangement, rhythm and the body
of the thing not the musical understanding of even
an 11th grader. I gave up reading when I was 14
reading music that is. and playin it on the piano and
organ. So I play a body-without-organs,
a voice without organs?

perhaps forget the idea of baroque folly
aim for the deep earth hum of bass
and the cello carrying the earth far
& forward to the sky


is there something Orphic
about the Cello
is the body of the cello
and at times the body
of its player Eurydicean?

some fated shadow
hid in the wings?

creation is hard,
always hard, even when easy.
to drink a cup of tea
whilst creating? to smoke a cigarette?
In the long interview he gave to Hubert Fichte
Genet talks about not smoking while
listening to Mozart's Requiem ,
how vulgar it would be to do otherwise .

the cellow this round bummed instrument
is a fierce instrument, funny as that sounds!
but then, again, think, think,
of how a woman's bum can be fierce for the lover,
who lusts, or how a woman's bum her buttocks
can herald the shape of the whole universe for a man
what tragic lusts! what comedy! too.
O life is funny.

really I, and my ears
are savage deceivers.
however, we Will carry on.
Ears or Not I trust mine
to spin the treble clef of desire

cello and bouncing waves

of word body


Jacqueline Du Pré

One of the great one S ~ . and
  • www.jacquelinedupre.net

  • Olga Bovrovnika pianist

    Is there not something, then Eurydicean wild ?
    here |in|this ...

    Maybe a song like the one from I.O.G. days? the
    Baudelaire one? or something something...
    THis force exemplified in her face hands,
    arms, shoulders..

    "Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine; I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine" (P.B. Shelley - To a Skylark)

    greatness's burden is what?

    Ô saisons, ô châteaux,
    Quelle âme est sans défaut


    young Arthur Rimbaud wrote .


    as for the apartment _ ah books all over the place no order
    a sort of brook a flow a stream of them from here to the windows
    both back and front... but warm thank god, warm, unlike that
    nightmare I lived in, had to live in and through last year...
    a flow of books in the running brooks, is something from
    Shakespeare in some play or another....


    studio| Bach

    Gould is right about Bach~all that fiddle-
    faddle about Mozart's misleading.

    [A qualified statement as per hyperbole]

    Angela is right _ why bother with a force

    that's misleading when the suites of cellos

    work like smooth rivers and valleys.

    So then, we proceed, but slowly smoothly

    like a concerto. The poise at the piano.

    The night like a serene suite

    the voices huffed and moulded to shape.

    I am exaggerating my new found reaction

    to Mozart, but is it any wonder that I recoil

    after so much an immersion in him?

    I know this will pass away~one can only

    imagine the wit of Mozart versus

    the weight of B~. Me and Patrick spoke of this once,

    he was second cello player at the M.S.O and I asked

    him which of the composers was "the One?"

    I could see it pained him,

    as he hemmed and hawed

    momentarily and he said , oh Bach.

    It was an unfair question, I see that,

    even then, I knew it was childish,

    like asking who is your favourite lover.

    As these things change & transform.

    Bach, Shaksepare, Marlowe, Joyce

    Genet, whoever whatever, who is who,

    what body what machine intersects

    with the other? to make others,

    and other becomings?

    Becomings of Mix. The question

    of immanence again __ negative critics

    like H. Bloom see this from the narrow

    scope of a gawky transscendence, ordering

    & creating lines of vertical ascendence

    when in actuality there are none __

    there is the archive, the library and the canon;

    the canon, what a funny word! the first time

    I heard it I thought of something firing off !

    it wa s only natural as I had a visual imagination.

    well, visual imaginations have their day,

    and dogs won't bite unless there

    is a sunset, and Bach is no sunset to M,

    and WS is no sunset to Joyce and Tzara.

    TT, & JJ so many coincidences

    in literature, in the names, what's

    in a name~everything.

    of course.

    The Brandenburg

    concertos made my mind spin again,

    as they have always , since the age of 17.

    This so crude as to beggar description.
    It's best to write the real thing, poetry
    is what they call it, than this damn
    expository prosey-rosy. But it's fun,
    and besides the work is being achieved
    'en attendant.'



    this business of writing about what we are doing,
    or wanting to achieve is wonderful, yet I
    write so fast and my thought speeds ahead,
    and I am so giddy with happiness at what
    is happening, and my head is vertiginous
    at the gladness of the little moments
    of performance creation, that I cannot
    write a straight sentence. not that I am
    known to write straight sentences, or
    even notorious for expository prose!

    Anyhow, who cares. Quick notes.
    a half hour's work yesterday afternoon
    yielded a move away from percussion
    to let the voice float freely above
    the instrumentation . what this does
    is free the voice to make its own
    statement as voice , but a voice
    permeated by the text. the words
    and voice become one being,
    one might say.

    End of the week ought to be interesting
    and see what becomes of the "mixes" and
    I don't like the lingo, and it's misleading.
    So then, we will see what happens
    as we try to mold the recording
    with the voice in midair.
    Enough for now.


    a new vocality

    a new vocality . I am thinking here
    of some of the things i've been reading in glenn
    gould's essays and notes .
    i m not even sure yet what I mean, however,
    it might (it being a conception of voice and
    recording I have not figured out yet)
    be more evasive, something
    whichspins off the top of the instrumentation.
    in previous work with musical accompaniment
    there was always so much emphasis on
    the live event it wore off (down) the
    truly experimental nature of things.

    its an old paradox, the live &
    the recorded. which is why I am thinking of
    the performance and show as being Radio,
    live radio. But a radio on stage.
    So no more readers that's for certain,
    readings or readers in any conventional
    sense had their better day,and in my view
    can no longer be useful.
    I mean who needs to see a reader reading a text?
    Music, sound or no sound. Whereas if the
    performance is a radio, one sees nothing.
    Radio walls as curtains .

    As much as I admire (admire might
    be too mild a way of expressing some
    of my feelings about great recitals|readings)
    some of the fine readings, the best, the least sick,
    readings or recitals Ive listened to
    none of them capture the richness
    or diversity, the largenss of a text accompanied
    by the augmentations brought on by
    the sound (music etc) filtering through,
    and being filtered by the meeting of the two.
    So then "readers," however one construes them, the readers
    must remain invisible?

    this idea pulls me and
    allures me More.

    So levity wins out the day.
    Levity and the lambent touch
    a light touch of the performance space.

    and to work on the voice
    , leeks and tonic water,
    for the jaw and vowels,
    the old exercises.

    Like in the old days.
    But we will mask the voice with the absence of visible
    readers|reciters distracting the audience from the text
    and its

    and after all that.

    Do a conventional show!

    Fun, madcap, zany!

    More anon.

    Call the show: the Secret.


    more of

    ok we spoke Angela I and the bassist, perhaps a cello wld. be good
    for the second piece, with her voice pre-recorded with singing, yes
    singing vocals. what a piece of imagination it is. did this ages
    ago with Nietzsche's Daughter and David with K.K. overdubbed in
    the Live Recording Performance of 1991_time! my god!
    I remember not being as comfortable with
    Pat's version of the Sappho voice as much as Angela's
    and so having Angela back is good, her voice is richer,
    and carries the sound of a woman letting go 'better'
    meaning she does not get that hysterical feel in
    vocality. angela lets go cooler. richer, meaning
    with lower registers in the voice yet the
    letting go as she reaches the high points of
    the piece, ie. "Orpheus on the Sidewalk"
    suits it perfectly. Its that Irish Canadian
    voice thats become modified by her acting
    experience and her strictly Canadian
    sense of voice, but it's more particular
    than that, as each woman's voice, is unique,
    instressed even as Hopkins might have said.
    The instress of her voice compasses
    the Irish and the spoken English Canadian
    of someone who lived in England and acted
    there for longer than she ever lived in Ireland .
    Combine it all with say, the cosmopolitan & deliecious
    accents of __ and one has,a well wedded voice
    and(take a breath readers)
    as once upon a time before, it fits
    the material perfectly.


    Hard to explain? no not really ; accompanied by the gestures
    we both make as we recite its perfect or going to be
    very interesting, Doctor. a cure for all miseres,
    miseries. if we can get Pat to come in for two or
    three pieces it would be a combindation
    that rounds out things nicely. But rounding is not
    that important, indeed it may be that rounding
    out is depasse for this project. I am thinking
    I might lift earlier recordings of her voice
    and lay them down again and remix them with some
    of the newer songs and see what comes of it.
    What images of voice and word evoke bodies of mystery?

    Cello Bass and two voices interweaving.
    the back and forth of death and life.

    this |you cry good news so much it comes

    this new band, band's a funny word. anyhow, its new and happening . its gonna work. rehearsals started. in conclave as usual. i did this the last time with I.O.G. the Invention of God. I have this penchant for the clandestine. anyhow this new project, or poetry ensemble is fun. guitars, electronic instrumentation. we're working on 5 pieces already. doing some dubbin over of voices with Angela. its been years since she and I worked, the last time was with Nietzsche's Daughter in 88! christ! time has flown. but we got better stuff now. interesting ideas floatin' around. studio to live to internet podcast? am not so sure of that idea as its not the sweating live body of the stage. i missed the stage and the leaping live performance. id forgotten how good it was. what release it brings. right now this is rehearsal and already i am hot with it. its a live wire through my body. spine tingles alive with the electric stretch of it. but no Name yet for us. how

    many are we? for now we are six, music and two vocalists. back to the older form . one male one female vocalist. but we will lay voices down and see what strange emanations of many ensue from this electricity of the live and recorded performance.

    sets and gigs being lined up: of course the slutty old home town first but already some venues in Toronto [I had put out feelers for this last year]appear in the horizon of interest toronto wld. be fun. later VanCouver then down to America. or into american. San Francisco wld.be a good debut to Amerique.
    the city of so much orality.
    we will see wont we dear tuckeroo. its been too long i done this. not performance becoming so to smooth over its transit ought to be interesting....

    Interviewer: What do you play?

    Me: I play radio and voice.

    I play desire machine.

    So it goes. taking the prose poem and making music of it is interesting anD combinding (a new coinage of mine found of course as always by accident-choice) this with electronica is cool a sort. of live poetry producing seducing machine.

    we gotta do mp'3s with some of the rehearsal stuff. because as always they yield something more powerful _to date _ than the 'live' before a paying audience style of delivery.

    once they is done we create a site, web and or blog.

    all is good. well. groody. another coinage of me himself.


    voice is /was a bit/tad out of shape. woman working with us is in fine voice. shes got a brain at times faster than me in the moment of concepting the best lay out for the tracking. newer digital stuff has changed how we can set the perception of the whole thing UP: ie. the Aural Event in the auditor's Ear and his body . in the Audience.

    so we revel in the glee of this new found fun.

    the taking of fiction into levels of audio with live over voices is going to be excitin'. then we go. to live an back to studio.
    so call it studio live. the original purpose of Radio.


    so then : last year adds to 4 readings: two "live" two at a distance : distance readings. into the work again with musicans.
    after all I am a musican.

    As are you Angela.

    and the rest. vocal poets. auralists.



    how do 'they' talk about 'it' so much? i am baffled.
    funny word, that word baffled. raffled. baffled.
    as in sound ears. deafened
    to the sound. of. how to the word baffled talk about it.
    i cant do that, talk about it so much at least not
    in space. in person yes. casually flippantly
    elsewhere, but to speak of it in the thing.
    how. to speak the thing. flipping elegantly.
    death. how to talk about it. her hair
    blowing up the sky. i cant do that. crossing
    the avenue seeing her explode. like it . it
    just happened outside of the subway. while
    walking to 'work'. ho w can anyone die
    that way. i cant talk about 'it' that
    way. not here or there. in person yes,
    yes, in person one gesticulates wit
    h the hands, speaks meaning with
    hands but not there. or here.
    or somewhere else. its a concentration.
    a discipline, a following to the inner.
    casual flippant words which cost a
    person their lif.e. lungs. breath. hands.
    wrists. their sex life. gone down the drain.
    eyes ruined. hair loss. sleep loss. all for
    the obsession with words.
    carrying strength and breath. the life
    of them. by the lord living rood of
    them. Aye the strength of their
    bodies. her round of. round .

    no orthographies where non e intended .
    nor ornithologies


    the gathering of mouths

    O's and I's



    Imagine this :Frida Kahlo Fact Story

    "Mourners gathered on July 13, 1954 to watch the cremation of the world's greatest and most shocking painter. Soon to be an international icon, Frida Kahlo knew how to give her fans one last frightening goodbye. As the cries of her admirers filled the room, the sudden blast of heat from the open incinerator doors blew her body bolt upright. Her hair, now on fire from the flames, blazed around her head like a halo. Frida's lips appeared to break into a seductive grin just as the doors closed shut. Her last diary entry read

    'I hope the leaving is joyful and I hope never to return.'

    Frida was 47 on the day she died."


    So it goes.

    You gotta go sooner or later.

    Or more like when a goddess goes
    from this world to thee next
    its a big flame that Roars!

    "Stechler: So what does Frida actually leave behind in that case? I mean, why are we still talking about her?

    Fuentes: Well, we are talking about a resurrected artist, you see. Because she was forgotten for a very, very long time after her death. She was not considered. And suddenly she comes back. She comes back on the wake a lot of the feminist movement, no? Of the search for icons for feminism. But along with that it is discovered that you had a great forgotten artist. An artist with a unique personality. That really resembled…you can invoke all kinds of influences, but you cannot, you cannot supplant the personality of Frida Kahlo. It is very much hers. You recognize the Frida Kahlo painting anywhere in the world. So whatever the reasons for her present popularity, what is the basic fact that a great artist has been recognized worldwide, universal. I think she's even on matchboxes now, hum?"

    The Life and times of Frida Kahlo __
    Excerpt from an interview with filmmaker Amy Stechler and author/historian Carlos Fuentes.


    time to time from

    time to time from hand to hip
    its shoulder blade a knock me down wake
    weakness given into a moment too soon
    wheeling over the moon's ragged tent

    sometime too its glimmers by its wake
    the light burning over the face of celerity
    entities and heart speeds its destine;
    jealousie ought to be a sister, yet
    her shoulders high held disdain
    the eloquent;

    she would part her eloquence by
    garner and buds hymned at night
    cashiering its summer her mask a
    enjambment cheering the older

    of two portraits and comes to weakness
    spaced by its vision not a soon hour or
    moon met passing his 14 lines to cape
    her going . at the funeral a weeping bird
    over the air and I am funeral and grave at his speaking the high end of pairing drapes and death its spent sapphier lost
    to mouths of burial garments an hiboux
    puckers its nose? is that thing a beak?
    was she pert, am I pretty asked
    her me to mine own,
    I said I said

    I said
    Am I pretty
    I said , No, you're better
    you're better than light,
    you're better, than sick
    yer be tter.


    to india:| Ihave been many Travellos

    Image by way of Il Cannocchiale [external link Above] as when
    India is eternal to the beauty of

    to India

    Sitar __ Players at

    Hungry ____ India
    Tilos Radio _ always interesting cartographies of radio wave ~~


    then ~~

    gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhisattva

    gon e