: what is ? what was is

is this a verse? or a shamble
a camel?
vet of moon'd weeks

: what is ?

was it yer birthdate?

I believe so ~ sir birthing


yer posting weak verses mister d

indeed i is as wink to shoulder makes older
to nary a word stung its rung pate
blast'd the fruited waif

my wither crumble the agin' stone
its marry girth fumbled to raking


kale away

so it shall fee

weak writing between the actual writing which is not posted here. the blog form

and the written printed form outside of here measures rhythm differntly very much
so very like a pale

pale away me hearties
think of her


what is ?

what is a body? though Mister D? do you know? remember?
it s folly rage and tenderness spent thru mornin'?

as sweet sleep covers the lover's vase
gathered by caresses you humbly turn
turn again its song

nursing awake the love
cuttin' past sorrow

kissing tears inta' pearls ~

that's how you know she's seen
your name knowing you before
as summer's bliss is love



captured Plane hEartT waits for th Poems like FrAAAGGMENT S

liKE AiR

la nuit

le nuit est long et ennuyait
le foret des doutes tu suive

mon ami monstre
comment tu a faits ça?

comment ?


the how men hollow men ...

a aversion of the hollow men

Voice & Music by Voxinabox

Video Copyright - VoxVids (C) 2007

"Directors Note: This is an experimental film with the voice track, the music track and the visual improvisation video each done in one take and then put together. The visuals are obviously heavily edited."


between yer thighs
yr hips

O wait its between your thighs
i find safety like a tea gown
running across the street!
am I crazy!

well summer time tips
its hilted hat my way

lifting yer dress
as usual
darling near the sun of your eyes ~
the summer .


take off

I dont mind if you take off your clothes

here in the nearness of this spell
that twists like a symbol
all the rifts of your song my darling
weathered like you I am borne
by night and day


always wondered how we'd sound
in our lover's bed

after the hot beast
of four legs
two heads
double hearts
our mouths chin to chin
like any saving lover ~

i see her naked

That her heart has been many days,
she knows i love
her day over word
her hair hanging as

what escapes as i wish to speak
her word flying over the terrace

and I see her song
in my bed
lover of night and day

my repetition is a tawny thing like a lover's rag?

what image pearls the mist from her skin?

I've always seen her as lover

her tears
turn to pearls

so we walk the prose saunter of infinite returning


That she forgives me as night is day
walks in sandal over air ~


Colloque sur Pasolini I

Not every poet gets to make movies publish novels and books, and then!
by an assassin's knife!

O these days of thunder and light!
thank god Pasolini lived and mad e the movies he did make
Ive not read his poetry or novels and I am sur e they wont do a thing for me
but his Cinema is Pure beauty Intelligence and sensibility

He is what I would characterize as a kind god
not an arsehole demishit

Colloque sur Pasolini a Nanterre en 2006.
Intervention de René Schérer.


more about zizek

and why does zizek tell the interviewer at liberation that in the anglo saxon world deleuze derrida foucault and the others are lumped together as deconstructionist
"ns l'espace anglosaxon, on a l'habitude de mettre tous les grands noms français Derrida, Deleuze, Foucault dans la catégorie de ce qu'on appelle le post-constructuralisme, ou bien déconstructionnisme."

hes being glib trying to create a false seperation when in fact, of all the post WW2 French philosophers Foucault Derrida and Deleuze
shared what Deleuze calls a common cause

and the three are equally but differently and rightly so, thinkers of Difference in one form or another. I mean what gives.
with Mister Bizek?
hes a comedian

its like that interview with Baudrillard i happened across a few months ago, his saying O deleuze Guattari they got desire all mixed up with revolution and marxism that was very naive of them.. and they were wrong....

he is wrong for stating such falsehoods. as if they were a priori claims with an ontological status.../.
and this new term he uses post constructionism? no one confused Foucault and Derrida ever. Certainly not in the anglo saxon world, which I imagine might include the american world. most of the original studies of foucault and derrida came out of the states. deleuze and deleuze and guattari and guattari are becomings that keep getting found....

think of the Guattari Effec t conference this April past in England with Eric Alliez and others as key note speakers.

Zizek is silly.

Mona Jilly an Franny got their boots out to kick his arse. The zeek was a freeking bad radio station... frequency...

sincere sad and wrong mister zizek as usual

-- My gosh this Zizek fellow just wont let go. will he. Deleuze and Lacan, Deleuze in another category all by himself seperated from Foucault and others. Zizek the great seperator the scission maker. the one who decides. ... read the interview with him..,. he's silly still raving on....... Then Zizek quoting Mao, the great murderer, molar maniac. Not even as good a Poet As Ho Chi Minh.
O and Mister Zizeky is wrong about his readings of 68. Guattari says in an interview he gave to someone that it was not Just May 68 that counted as an Event but what followed what hapPEn'd and that is the Important news, or Equally Important. The real
UmHeimlich Mister Zizek is nOt that May 68 is over but that
it continues.

So much that Mister Sarkosy had to attack it, in the same some of the kids from the Paris suburban riots attacked what they thought was the May 68 spirit. THey can be forgiven and understood and compassionately disagreed with, but one knows why they had no choice in their lives and m inds

where as Sarlozy did and so does Zizek.
Not that Zizek is like Sarkosy
but they ar eboth wrong
about Deleuze and about 68

they are wrong the same way Baudrillard is wrong and Badiou.

they dont get desire/

and they want to rip Guattari out of Deleuze and guess what!?

Its Impossible. It will never happen. I t cannot happen and Wont

Felix Guattari and Gilles Deleuze
are like two sides of the similar coin
like that other great double and third mind of the 20 th century
a certain Doctor Bob and Mister Bill Wilson.

Ya dig?

Benoît. Vous citez peu Gilles Deleuze, quelle place occupe sa pensée pour vous?
Dans l'espace anglosaxon, on a l'habitude de mettre tous les grands noms français Derrida, Deleuze, Foucault dans la catégorie de ce qu'on appelle le post-constructuralisme, ou bien déconstructionnisme. Mais je crois que c'est crucial de souligner que Deleuze est d'une toute autre catégorie. Dans ma lecture, Deleuze est beaucoup plus proche de Lacan. Je crois précisément que pour sortir du champ de ce qu'on appelle, post-modernisme, la référence à Deleuze est cruciale. Mao, a dit qu'«on doit distinguer entre le débat qui est à l'intérieur du peuple, et le débat, la bataille, avec les ennemis du peuple». Deleuze est de notre côté.


work withtext and colour yawns- CinEma VEritie

Flag this messageflagthis medium [PoetryisawayofLife] works with text and


"poetry isaway"
: YawNS

I had a inkling that the WeaKLing who said
to me Life is short ran Away here to this group... and yes indeed here is where he is lurking away.. a beat pedagog a real swanker rhetorical flourish my arse....
O I true dada Hippy dance around the Bullshit of poetasters high school principles tagging along thetext,"Abelablecapababable neathenorth deistmachine" <ableschizo@yahoo.com>, "able country doctorofBWO" <able@yahoo.com>, , "andrew m" <andy.jACohn.miller@umATRrix .ca>, "andyhandy man engineer" <ababble@schizo.com>, , "arkdefrur" @yapppy groupsscalm>, "yearny , , "bach andhermother daughterofgender" <bach@music.com>, "bitterbuttershrive usedtobesinbut sometimedesirewalker" <janine@hotmail.com>, ""British & Irish poets" <fetish and gush poets@jiscmail.ac.uk>, "c j" <ceecjeeeones@fine better.com.bcad>, "calmer thanyouandher kidschiz" <calmkiddingshizo@yahoo.com>, "clear still parniture" <parneture@dialogues.com>, , , "dan forth" <danfrothpreviews@banada.ca>, "Daniel Carter" <abzzz@syninch.com>, "Liza arius Brotman" <jizzazz@hatan.orgie>, "deleuze fran moona" <deleuze-guattari@fists.villageveronica .edu>, "DelIre desIre" <textdesiremachinesonlyworkwhentheybreakdown@yahoogroups.com>, "desire machines" <desiremachines@yahoogroups.com>, "giselles beaulsema" <eboelsma@hahaha.notcalm>, "phenix Guattari" <deleuze-guattari@pissed.pillage.mother mary at shit.gob>, "fictionsof cd" <fictionsofdeleuzeandguattari@yahoogroups.com>, "freddy printerpoet" , "grass of china" <henrymiller@miller.mi.com>, "hereader diss hereaderssthere" <derridadada@yippyiock.com>, "hulsen beck fantasiticprayer" <randoo@umymudum.com>, , "huffpuff" <ipiffraff@yahee.nowhere>, "isabelle huppert" <isabelle.bbabababba@wanadoo.fr>, "jeny j" <admitabloodyname@yahoo.com>, "jill franny" <deleuze-dialognet@yahoogroups.com>, " "laundry yers andmineshoes" <binky@binkyorg.com>, "lizzythegoodone goodfaith seenhisface" <lezzbean@nothingness.com>, "major domo" <majordomo@lists.village.virginia.edu>, "Matt Lee" <matt.lee7@ntlworld.com>, , , "mister plateau" <gillesdeleuze@yahoogroups.com>, "mona`s home maiden made at" <deleuze-dialogue@yahoo.com>, "mysymphony nadadaorcanadada itsthefifthmovement" <bachbeethhover@music.com>, "nietzsche the one" <nietzsche@godis head.linggam.edu>, "noani rauschenberg" <noanirauschenberg@yahoo.ca>, "ruelle" <reallyonthestreet.comt>, , , "<hanna.knot@yahoo.com.net>, "sinema goget waitinfermovies" <mixedmovies@cinema.com>, "sisterdeley frannny monasinventor" <deleuze@sisterstink.com>, "siter mariahunkers buttockstheos" <sistermariabuttocks@yahoo.com>, "sop oclees yerknees" <oedipus@canoe.ca>, "steven zacharias" <ontheroadsz@yahoo.com>, , "dadaphonymyloverboy "usedtobe sortof influence" <joshposh@hot.com tteam sport of betrayals... conveyer belts of mystery bullshit.. second rate oral poets huggered down intheIr limosiNes of Desiredeath....
Yawn arT thou another levi??
Yer Lover, Verlaine.


1,2,3,4 is it a metaphor or an assemblage

Able Danger The Movie: Elina Lowensohn

the first film I saw Elina Lowesohn in was Amateur.

She played in that film, with Isabelle Huppert ~

who recently return
ed to the stage

dig this youtube

Paris, Théâtre Antoine
Vendredi 25 janvier 2008
Soirée de première de la pièce
"Le Dieu du Carnage" de Yasmina REZA


Hanna Schygulla - Passion (3)Hanna Schygulla no filme "Passion", escrito e dirigido por Jean-Luc Godard em 1982, Também no elenco Isabelle Huppert, Michel Piccoli e Jerzy Radziwilowicz, entre outros

you wer e quite mister d

yes and yet still all the rain
imagine that
rain all that rain


Carmelo Bene - La "meritata" follia di Nietzsche

why do younsay yer sick?

why? ___ everyone is ~ the world someone said in a poem,is a hospital.... clinique et folie...

yes yes... and ?

yes a nausea... rides around my dizzy ....

Upheld vision and forging out ~. Vision & Fire and Forage ~
the mouth cries out


here & this

why do you come here?
is there air in your breath?

this ~

yer heart is a mouth in which you sit
sitting's good ~ it burns
lover's tongue
speaks to her name

this love
this huff and puff ~



at Atwater market she says 'I go shopping on Sunday .. I think Shopping... She continues... going through the dumpsters... for my fruit and vegetables.... you know, our society ... is so picky ... one little dent and bruise, one purple spot on a peach and plum and out it goesssss....'

is love an old card?)
-- in the rain walk a million rosies thought the name on the plate. gallery on the pan . apocaylpse on the lawn. they dont' believe smoking
s gonna come back
if war comes... they say and think
that's not possible no
war here
here no war
it's not possible a world war three around the world like world war and everyone united in a cigarette ....

in Multitude Empire who knows? how the Tower eye beam tumble over the body leap cup up to rain fairing its foul weather....

th e hu ma n v oice / ingrid bergman does ..

"Ingrid Bergman gives a virtuoso solo performance in this Jean Cocteau one-act. The plot of this hour-long piece is a simple one: a woman, devastated after her lover leaves her for someone else, speaks to him on the phone one last time. The piece is beautifully, perfectly written and performed--all of the little lies and desperate hopes of heartbreak are captured. Bergman's performance is as brave as it is complex--she is willing to let her character crumble into an embarrassing weakness that few actresses would risk. Anyone who has ever nursed false hopes of salvaging a relationship will find this piece all too well done. See it, but not right after a breakup. "quotes
from the poster at you tube

one of the most anguishing roles and performances.. and Ingrid Bergman conveys the intensity and pain of this terrible.... situation... her tears... her sobbing...and weeping and the ... click when it comes....

was if if

is this 'bad' poetry Mister D?
Hmmhmmm maybe maybe but I think not
knot as wood gnarls round the tree of love ~

and her bed bless her bed ~ .

brim here

day was if

today is a long day. rain goes in. out goes. light. come.
over there. inside her. what was that? is it air?
c'est la plein jour. now it feels like hinder. me
timber leaves plush fish the frightening breeze

tucked in over bodies walking the avenue
it's this which pouts and saunters
giving you what 's open today it

beats like your pulse. her favoured pulse
is my heart
opening like turtledove
nosing along a lover's hitch

hiked to the end of the rainbow I can't
seem to let go of her name its dream
around letters like my own

when I almost write even her name
shudders in this body
if I think of calling i
shake worse than a wharf in the water

he says to hi s angel what does it mean?
how doe s it persist? insistence of the body sober
its electric throb encounter to the weak
week inside weekend she's heading to a plane

train goes chuff chuff puff smoking pouring out of its
eyes its chimney goes sweep sweep sweep
i circled the air the planet

i cried today sometime the year a tear and more
crushing out of my eyes
this somber date of no one and meet

in her city it lights up lightening to her fire ~


does she speak English Mister Duffy?
yes she speaks the syllable of intelligent beauty i shake shake shake

and does she speak french mister D?

yes yes elle parle anglais francais
et elle parle si beau beau
elle est le grande

et je connais pas le mot pour elle

but it bells round the world
in the plane across
landing and arrival

she's whispering your name
in her sleep her sleep
your name her sleep ~

do you understand this? experience?

non no no, mais oui oui yes yes
parce ce que je l'aime
c'est n'est pas compliquee
c'est une amour

it's alove
love amour love
que je comprends pas
et je n'ais pas besoin de comprends

undertand this? no i speak to her
over airs of telepathy

inside a pocket of riant rain she is the good one
love one ~

but you are intellient monsieur?
she is intelligent in the ville dans le ville in city of light

are you angoisse?
(je pense
elle est esprit
assez large
que je ne pue pas être .."angry..."

to her never no never never always a spirit of love she
is the crowded bus of my love

she's the alphabet
of what I cannot speak ~

she's the flower
of her sex
her aura
astral body
and body
her body
i thirst
not known

non prevue
c'est affaire
dans ma vie ~

did you lose your dictionnaire?

i dont think she minds

l'amour n'est pas un dictionnaire ni un accent

do you have a cadeaux pour elle?

i missed her birthday
mais j'avais quelque chose pour elle
une chose secrète
et je donnerais
une jour

vous avez
des chose
tu vue lui donnez....

oui beaucoup beaucoup...

maybe she'll laugh
if she read this?

laugh and cry

cry laugh
we cry and laugh
et un autre
une autre chose
on va faire un autre

elle connaît bien ma cœur
elle le connaît
et elle est libre
de faire que-est ce que est le meilleur chose pour elle

for it must be as
it is as is
as it is
entre les chose
les devenir
personne ne pue les savoirs
les devenirs
sonts des devenirs

des devenir

pour elle


you make mistakes
crazy as you write
yes yes
mais pas elle
elle n'est pas une erreur

et masculine et feminine?





je fais beaucoup des mistakes
mais elle n'
est pas un 'mistake'
jamais jamais

elle est ...just right comme telle



is it true yer sick?

of course of course ... what did you expect...?

knees, rare, air,

sun in feet

heart in river

what happened?

its atrue story with long tales
i invite you to see it

as long as the river watches
washes it s bed

night makes it s mind up

before and then ~

she said , i like my lovers hazy and weak

she knew the prime someone or other of belgium

that week we were in Italy
i got arrested by the cops
spent a week in a jail cell with a friend of Negative nEro no,,
it was Negri, Antonio Negri .... imagine that! the sun burst
across the shadow of the beam

I was the Stalin prison grad.

Not real by any means I was less than real.
But a glimpse into the virtual life of time ~!



Rome Paris, Toronto
a n interview

with Deleuze's daughter about film.

later a dinner with someone she knew
who claimed to have read a book
I wrote . I was 14 when I published it.

I met the one who had the secret keys of heaven.

she came to my plac e.
with Arthur. With other dignitaries.
Rome was beautiful but Joyce
did not like it.
I know why.

I too prefer Trieste in th winter.
Especially with her hips against mine.
In the big bed ~


You lied! again Mister D! you never lived in Rome!
yer a street urchin and you have no feet!

You idiot! I love you Mister Idiot Spinzoa Becomings je t'aime comme ca ~ .

Mister D and Mister Du

have stories to say to you.
Laugh your heart and yer box
he squeeze his accordian in the Paris metro.
Docking the rain, like any choo-choo train.

it was for her he docked ~ .


by the way I dont like jail
none of these stories are true ~


ihave a pyramid in my head ~

it knocks at the door . goes three times wish ~

knock knock who's there?

is that Stalingrad? or love?


I was hitchhiking

I had no money

at all

imagine that
I was safe

something was ....

protecting me....


that time

One time or was two/ at Vincennes / after the teacher spoke.
his head. buzz. smoke ear. He heard Spinza he thought it was
the voice of Spinoza. After Tues day lecture. Prof. Deleuze
was mighty . the crowd. was a herd .

they walked. pavement wandered. Guy Debord was there.
at the that cafe was it ?

Deleuze is there . his friends. a chaos halos circle.
words voice boom boom. ring echoe walk.
now this then. Felix arrive. he walk fast. SPeed. Intense.
Prof. Deleuze is slow raspy his breath. love of air.
by emphysema. Was poetry Mister Beckett? dying in his dying?

As the side walk open. cafe. cafe creme? smoke the philosopher's hair. he's there
with his own. name. as . this is pressed witch clandestine ride.

over above the name. world after world. le philo the poet
young a s shy can breast. her fist tiny hung the diamond her curl
waving hair. now the thunder concepts ride the talk.

back to Montreal Orpheus on the Sidewalk does his show.
Between Ways of Escape they jaunt.

in his kitchen she tells him about Deleuze lectures.
she lean close to say to him, Oui Oui je suis je raconte le veritie

c'est la suite d'une amant non prevue.

Soon Soon its Live Performance at les FouFounes Electriques.
Mister Deleuze is there. "En secrete".

Le nuit est jaune.

That summer will be one of many stupidites foolishness.
revenege? for a love gone dead?
Maria, Sandra, Christine, Nancy. Spanish, Hungarian Black, French Canadian, German Ontarian. Film student running to the Berlin Wall , Lady catholic swinging her haunches .... left her 11 year
marriage ended, meeting over books , the Brown Hungarian television producer tells stories of who she was ... her bisexual history is a tornado of what body she knows.... Catholic lady is a staircase of wanting babies last minute longings... film student wants her thing long and her palms are cold as grease, cold as her hair, kisses slurpy as mud, months, weeks, years, Maria her breasts she has no breasts walks him home nightly waits for the door ... her mouth comes like a long .. walks dancings... coffees. years months weeks, apart, lovers O night shadows of bed, masturbation alone in the afternoon,. Brigid calling .... about her poems, her long hair down her long fingers... doing her masters ....letter after letter beauty and love.... who heard that letter dropping on the door ? in the mail box... summer of 87-88 89 what winter love of Priapus banging on the door? what sapphic sense sent her wafting yer way... ... then 90 was 90 ninety but where was 90 90 and not 89?

who but these have loved?

loved heard gird your loins
gird your thigh tighten them legs

iron steel around a belly of wheat
ill have your child in the morning ~

who was the name of god



the 90's is another story and there's more!
wait see hear the magic memorex pad ~

or things that go hump in thee night.
yer breasts hurting ~

her bone

her bone was his cock spelled by her name ~

one day he got out of jail. it was summer. the bell rifted the deemed sidewalk.
he carried a name her name in his blue veins. she was wanted in six countries by
many men and women. she was the Queen of dozen.

her bone was caught by his cock. as it was his .
his bone was focused on her sex in a plac e he couldn't call.

once a letter he dropped. he made her a birthday present.

it was her year to second in .

she chinned her heart.

her petal sex was wet in the wet open of his spirit sex.

cry to her eyes.

was the bearing stone ~

he made no cents or dollars
didnt resent her at all at all ~

he had a plane to . fly around . the city of walks and board ~ s .s.

heft her bone

Seventeen was her real self. she commingled her juices with his.
not sweeped over liver and gale.

she's run trees to ground
in the great green haze

summer's a buttock on the door
how explain this missive paradox

gone by the gaol
hung by the heart

love's gizzer's gone hung by the pate


lean yer hand
there touching yourself
as each word
like a kissing cock
up yer alleys

slumber to your love

love to any beast

She leans to him in dream
hands around his backing to her
into her river
her city's name
on her lips

fly to his name!
like any cape
bull to the air of night
tooting her horn

it 's plenty in the
daisies, dandelions


she gave her sex
to his word

for broken faucets keyed the word
piano to her knave
he's buttocked down on her burning

his cock travelled the length
of her beaty innnards
in out up around
a hand inside her song ~

her sheets are gone with coming
rescued her lover ~


a knock watch

11:30 was her watch tick tick . tick. summer forest. field. of forever. trapped by money he's down at heels on the docks. a street balker. he's a worker, a hooker in shoes. wondering if her name 's the same. if his tu is vous . well, tread the heels of your belly, lover, night is a knock me down.

of her hands. he saw not. of her ass, he felt not. her sex, he kissed not .

tasted not. her tit. her tit in his mouth. his self in her pocket. carried
for fare around the world. where was it go?


one afternoon. he was coming. he said her name . it escaped his clock. it was differnencs of hours, Horus the god, incarnation reincarnation, his soul drifting to her hand , hupped she yanked him into her thighs longing, panting with the breeze of his. breath. choked by day and night.

angel 'shugah' of river round its old city. eyes cried tears for the not seen in summer after summer . he was in prison.
city prison where folks and cousins mad e their way. death was on the way ~

grim reaper who smiles so. his name is not known

over hip

Somone stole the boat. It must have been bucaneers! from the
high hip sea. over at brim, the deck is awash with navies from
whorin' foreign parts! ah! me hearties! swordsmen bucklers
to the end we'll find our part our way back in!

beckon to night hush to the bird
her sweet soft petal
fluttering its waves to me from
far and long

as any whooping crane does
whipping up a fervour of love's

tinkling on the window of her sea.

Fictions! Fictions! Fictives! O me admen and pluck me
what sport bird is this over the castled
rain where pecking birds maw the

number of love's maids?

we'll find and refind our fictions ~ .

like the plump lips whose taste you 've never her heart beats nightly with yer train ~


maybe this is all bad!~ poesie! could. cld b e. the full moon's made me crazy!
or the light from stars
hit the street

as summer kicks my arse. work work work.

one day soon, enoug h I hope a holiday and days in the country.

head in the water.

head upside down in a brook

émission du mardi 15 juillet 2008
Jean Ristat

A propos des livres de Jean Ristat :

Ode pour hâter la venue du printemps (Poésie Gallimard)

Artémis Chasse à courre le sanglier, le cerf et le loup (Gallimard/coll. Blanche)

Le Voyage à Jupiter et au delà. Peut-être (Gallimard/coll. Blanche)


Jean Ristat. Ecrivain

Omar Berrada. Préfacier de Ode pour hâter la venue du printemps

Alain Nicolas. Responsable des pages littéraires de L’Humanité

des livres à découvrir

Jean Ristat
Ode pour hâter la venue du printemps
Poésie / Gallimard - 10 avril 2008

Remettant à l'honneur la tradition du vers élégiaque, avec son mélange de narration et de confidence, Jean Ristat fait côtoyer l'épique par l'allusion et le lyrisme par l'aveu, sans jamais déchaîner les grandes orgues. Il y a chez lui une retenue du ton, une liberté dans l'enchaînement des propos, un humour dans l'évocation mêlée de souvenirs réels et de souvenirs culturels qui se conjuguent pour offrir un dosage très singulier de lucidité amère et d'espérance.
Avec Tombeau de Monsieur Aragon, Le Parlement d'amour et La Mort de l'aimé, Jean Ristat renoue avec ce genre littéraire qui, au-delà de l'oraison funèbre, confère à l'émotion, à la douleur et au deuil une inscription à la fois sobre et frémissante.

- Présentation de l'éditeur -

Jean Ristat
Artémis chasse à courre le sanglier, le cerf et le loup
Gallimard - coll. Blanche - 8 novembre 2007

Artémis aux blancs sourcils artémis la blanche
Quel souci la pique dru à son front d'argent
L'arc à double courbure tendu pour la flèche
L'œil d'argile peint et diamantine la dent
Au rire l'accroche d'une froide colère

Battez graves tambours sonnez trompettes légères
Voici artémis aux dures cuisses que la main
de l'homme jamais ne caresse ni ne déplie


- Résumé éditeur -

Jean Ristat
Le voyage à Jupiter et au-delà, peut-être
Gallimard - coll. Blanche - 23 novembre 2006

"Je marche sur une scène jonchée de
Corps décapités fleurs en bouquet dans mes bras
Grappes sanglantes que nul vase ne recueille
Et leurs têtes en tombant font le bruit des cigales
Viandes à l'abattoir promises à la vermine
Et aux chiens te voici donc Ô pourriture " (Jean Ristat)

- Résumé editeur -

was pirated bucaneer?

is it possible certain fictional elements have pirated brim? takingthebrim?

swamped swarmed and swelled? its boatcapize capped? foam and nave?

black caps _splash and whoosh of summering winds or rapids of river overflooded its gates?

what was that?

Something Mona, Franny and Jill knew about?

if lovers had fingers
over the wind
tasting its change of pace
what bodies become us
in the dainty fox fuck of love?

what fox trot limbers over shipping lanes
hungering its love
tramping the deck of some steamer in the navy
over love's little burial
even goin so far as to say thank you

the artist protects himself from the frosty jewels of a friend's love

No, is Mona the Jill before fancy that was love's baking?
take a shower boy,it's summer and the lather bears down baloons
petticoats and wombs.


like who?

like steve mcqueen who remembers him?

theres so many movies to see so much cinema to se ..e

indeed... lately Ive spent time discussing movies a lot... a friend , who is a film student and I have had coffee and spoke of movies ... yes, he knows far more than I do, as he did a degree in Cinema...
>Here's a few classic 'gone' scenes from The Wil...eed

the Wild O

from wiki pedia on the wild one

mary murphy is

a now pretty much forgotten actress... her part in the Wild Ones... may have been her most intense role from what I have read ... I dont recall seeing her in any other notable productions... actors ar elike poets... so many forgotten....

.. times change and the circumstances of how films are made change... so then do the parts different types of actors can play... then there is of course, the personal matters... think of the actors in Jean Eustache's films....

movin a friend's niece

call'd a friend Sunday after noon hadnt spoken in a while he says he's helping his niece move unexpectedly ... just a fridge stove and a few things, says he'll call b ack to tell me how much more he does call back says yeah there's not much a bit more than he expected he and another friend are goin to help ... I will sure, glad, I'm glad to help... be fun.. movingthings... yeah, i KNoW about that AboUT MoVing things, seems like thats what I beeN Doing all my Life...s o round six thirty he pick s me up, we're ready to go me him and the other guy ... we head over his niece is there not just right away but we start to get things going ... takes a while before you know it's eight o'clock we're waiting for the truck ... it's a pick up a good friend of his.. know s the niece... we start to pack up the truck... add more later but it ends up taking hours we finish around 1 in the morning.. it's fun it's a riot its all good moved moving late night it's riot a ritornello... life's ritournello a tornado of this's and that's zzzzzzzzz

more of this life later... exhausted..... body bed... sleep sleep......



----------------------- I don't know anything about this movie except that a friend of mine told me about. I've not even seen the film, just the clip, because that's all I was told about Its a breath-taking and to me, at least, entrancing scene ~ . In some strange way it reminds me o f the story of Orpheus and the Thracian Women. At least some elements in this clip resemble that old story. I wont draw a parallel though because like I said Ive not seen more than this tiny ten minute clip, which also has a comic side to it.

put up by orpheecd

it cuts ominous eerieness with threats of death & laughter...the music and laughte a game of almost dying death.. the music is intense extraordinary and dissonant cacophony surely the mad music a person hears before being stoned to death... yet ....yet .....
the dance moves back and forth are heartending wild and a hint ritualistic... (for someone like me anything with dance grabs me.. if i had not been a poet I'd have been a dancer, and I've danced all my life, one way or the other ...). but it does deterritorialize the roles or sections of who and what is who in the body... what I mean is the relation of the movement of the apparently threatening moves contrasting to the stronger visuals of the women.. this is what lends the look of the Thracian women allusion against the man standing alone .. who seems authorial like in his aloness and therefore as I said Orphic... the threats against him and the woman who makes the threats, near the end of the scene, dunking his Head, under the water three times before he get s the hang of what she's driving at .....and the ambiguous "other" woman off the side staring glaring in what looks like envy jealousy or wrath... or perhaps there is something else , here, which I dont know about as Ive not seen the movie....

"Il pleut doucement sur la ville

"Il pleut doucement sur ma ville"

walking 'Ive walked in the rain

on Sunday rain is riant ~

is walking sauntering?


i dont mind

______ i hold your imagined body ~

and ____________these people will do anything~!

fr cash

earning her bread

strip away







as johnny law

shes wanted for 'indecent exposure and public begging

if she's nabbed doing'

"La Diosa del Metro" or Subway Goddess. She called her performances "happy minutes."

o Strip my darlings for the beauty and strength of yr love
of the world

its prudish dead aunt
same gaggers of Pinochet
stoolie bums of the four forests of dawn

the strippper assailed by goons

the stripper assailed by goons after happy minutes
other variants at takingthebrim


tundra tune

in yr little world rocks and berries
bees and bullies

Fred MacMurray and forts once climbing soldiers
musketeers clacking at their shoulder's

harbour mouth flicking open here
Russian trained ballerina waitressing

dunkin n' Donut her look an apparel
of pearl Erroll Flynn on the late night show

in Paris, along the Boulevard St. Michel
coffee sippers sip and revolution bides

its time hankering for the good old day
and night comes like a revolutionary pardon

Marquis De Sade knows about that it's what
saddens him loosens his masochistic streak

its taken so and so decades to write
learning to write pearls wisdom beauty

like the young lady's face her twenties lie ahead
a school a university a boyfriend becoming husband

children and sheep and dress down dresses
wedding bell blues and shirts at dawn torn

off in passion
like any lover's woo


it's been long since
knowing a lover's touch
a teal gown at the waistline
a real touch
you've forgotten

no night for the fixed
dawn ~

well stillness finds its song ~

this place

400 hundred years Quebec

robes & villages

the river the grand fleuve St Laurent

cooked to death on a gridiron on 10 August 258;

the river named for you ~ body of water surging piling pulling
rapids and locks

heart eaten alive
great tomahawk native chewing
brave white father's heart

his heart his heart


Saint who prayed in the lover's wood
saint finding her lover's hood ~


Imagine being baptized in this cold place

in nomine patris
et Filius ....

ego te absolve

Iroquois and Huron

Mohawk Cree Micmac

what country is this? the city flying

Hochelega Maisonneuve Champlain
Ville Marie devenir Montreal

apres le montagne Mont-Royal
Crucifix city

who came and went? what thousands
up the river down river black flies and dust

disease and ritual
corn and beaver

chipmunk & squirrel spooled gods
totems of haunting

roasting at gridiron s

this country of demons and

who are these black robes ?

and these painted women ? Chiefs Shamans

faces ridged by nature's

Hurons Iroquois


who're these white demons?

shaman shaman
forge path

body can fly fly
body fly to lover's runway

O Hochelega O Ville Marie

O City over the Atlantic

Atlantic waves fierce and force

crushing sailors in yr grasp
passenger and lover yawning in yer gulf

O Sea
O Ocean

O river mouth
flowin back swirling up around eddying out gales
of thunder Europe London Dublin Paris Lutetia


over the river
under the bay
ships head
b earing straight
on their course
navigation set
headings East
the sun
reverse immigration



chew choo

now you've done it Mister D, yer writin
poring verse
overtures of


really the banality of chairs

chiaroscuro ro a d feline feathers

light is a sword clocking o woo d

dare to compare lovers a nd fat

oils and camphor

cookies & barslike rock igneous portal shapes

pared by mountain girth

in summer hail
its spoiler's fog
over the coast of
Simbad's brood
its cutting sheaves
and lawn

carried to fested purge
and cambering steal

so wrapping her arms round the hour
hurries the seat to the front of the bus
her blackberry buried beneath th e seats


beneath beneath
for her hand
hand to hand
pole to pole


this socks

where is that verb
lent by word
as Ficti ve Jill honeys her way 'down to hell'
roar of
lord of heaven in hell

Mister ! Stop ,A! while you're ahead!

I will I willl!

in mosaic

------------thi strange alcoholic artist

Il est vieux et laid, il habite Cuers
Elle est jeune et belle, elle habite Aubagne

Dellamorte a risqué sa vie en pénétrant dans la demeure de ce dégénéré d'Arthur Syphilis vieux porc alcoolique, repris de justice, fasciste libertaire.

draw i ngnnotes

the border fly bird cardinal flee as flute ride

Interview d'Arthur Syphilis par Dellamorte

in mosaic not the law
but the freedom of mind

for a variant of this post
go here

stop loss back door draftSoldiers Iraq war....

ca n ada & america savi n g the world fr empire

death's a w asted thi ng han gin bodies on the road

bustin lovers before their breath
before their time

democracy democracy democracy

soldiers showi n g soldiers show i n g the war
as it is


is shit

soldier as reporter truth teller

"I never saw a y Coa lition forces'
My War

war kills the youung n& Old

July 11, 2008


Stop-Loss: A Look at the US Military Policy that Creates a “Backdoor Draft” to Force Soldiers to Continue Service

Casey J Porter's yo t u be cha nn e l

This is a look at the very real threats facing Soldiers in Iraq. This video deals with a new weapons system being used against Soldiers known as "Lob-Bombs". However, the Military reports any deaths from this new type of Bomb "a result of small arms fire." See the truth here in this video.

Colby Buzzell's Blog blog MY War