r us t
glyphviolent growlingown groves bewildersenses magnet mojos narrow greatsdraining try toohard barbiewhoresfamine bugspatch miranda your corpseleather breaking pond levelmaced withshivers logic & gizmobreaking forgetful sins inyour ideas deadstove pridepushed kerosene shantypipes tragic pigeons lace wails stabbing bravadoapparent glass post-trauma sqeamish mayweatherlost crazied with outwar rant tenant a tensionattentionbackpack collie voidsstabfruit aggravationpaste cellar tricksTV basiceyeschurchbaked markers temptation traces cocksure vinerambles milking duskrustforms maiden glamorwasted whizking vertigo popdipped dangle nougat prince cabinfrenzy shores undrizzled arrogant: golodge genuine airaffectiongrand mambos beveled rootscavity zealots umbrellas flagjohn develops moist alarmriddlerspoke trees
12/27/10
11/16/10
10/28/10
10/19/10
sibilant sizzle & staccato static
Sitting here
with my window
open,
I hear
rare rain
begin to
gently
fall.
I listen,
absorbed by its
sibilant sizzle
&
staccato static.
A cool night
made of wet scarecrows
&
creaking boards
under a moon
of lavender levity.
Why am I inside
with this wonder
at my door?
I get up & take my umbrella
for an ambling ramble down by
the drop-dappled pond.
with my window
open,
I hear
rare rain
begin to
gently
fall.
I listen,
absorbed by its
sibilant sizzle
&
staccato static.
A cool night
made of wet scarecrows
&
creaking boards
under a moon
of lavender levity.
Why am I inside
with this wonder
at my door?
I get up & take my umbrella
for an ambling ramble down by
the drop-dappled pond.
10/15/10
"Us" vs. "Them"
(or: "How Words Seduce Us To Forget About The Excluded Middle")
Life is not black, not white; nor non-black, nor non-white. Being able to only think in absolute & opposing dualisms is a crippling flaw that has infected the very core of our national discourse.
What happened to yes-to-some-parts/no-to-other-parts? Or the clarifying power of defining our terms & not just sloppily damning whole swaths of thought w/out good reason?
What happened to realizing we're all trying to solve the same problems & having at least basic respect for all of us truly trying to find ways to improve where we can?
Why do we have to cut w/these exact & over-sharp idea-knives that always end up making someone bleed? Do we really love blood more than progress?
...even this post with its purpose of trying to expose the rainbow of possibilities truly open is guilty of painting absolutism as always-bad, when its really just usually-bad.
A pox on the thought-tyranny of words & Aristotle's naive A=A simplicities.
No wonder we're so lost & fucked up in this postmodern haze of linguistic fog....
What happened to yes-to-some-parts/no-to-other-parts? Or the clarifying power of defining our terms & not just sloppily damning whole swaths of thought w/out good reason?
What happened to realizing we're all trying to solve the same problems & having at least basic respect for all of us truly trying to find ways to improve where we can?
Why do we have to cut w/these exact & over-sharp idea-knives that always end up making someone bleed? Do we really love blood more than progress?
...even this post with its purpose of trying to expose the rainbow of possibilities truly open is guilty of painting absolutism as always-bad, when its really just usually-bad.
A pox on the thought-tyranny of words & Aristotle's naive A=A simplicities.
No wonder we're so lost & fucked up in this postmodern haze of linguistic fog....
10/7/10
not what's wrong
not what's wrong
or
what do i need to change
but
what am i doing right
or
what do i need to just do more of
and
(of course)
how do i stay on course
where the map's working
&
ditch the anchor of wishing
doing what i do
felt different
in any way
because
i'm just me
and
i always will be
so
maybe i should
make friends
and
pay attention
to what i have
before crying
about
what i thought
i needed
or
what do i need to change
but
what am i doing right
or
what do i need to just do more of
and
(of course)
how do i stay on course
where the map's working
&
ditch the anchor of wishing
doing what i do
felt different
in any way
because
i'm just me
and
i always will be
so
maybe i should
make friends
and
pay attention
to what i have
before crying
about
what i thought
i needed
9/16/10
Thou Shalt Not Infringe (In DMCA We Trust)
Copyright infringement is the new heresy of The Corporate Church of Intellectual Property & Trademark tm.
Just ask any
pirate,
mash-up remixer,
graffiti artist
or other culture-jammer
about how hard the Lawyerly Inquisition can come down on you if you transgress that taboo!
Just ask any
pirate,
mash-up remixer,
graffiti artist
or other culture-jammer
about how hard the Lawyerly Inquisition can come down on you if you transgress that taboo!
+$+
9/8/10
it's not the things
it's not
the things you
said
that
broke me,
{avert
your I's}
it was
more things
you
didn't stay.
willing or
not
we're
prey:
hurray!
amble &
gamble oh
you
paper nap
kin!
punctuate
trivial dreck.
should
we stop
writing these
secrets
?
are we
speaker
giving away wires
too much & causing
lightning
by it?
bleak
hive mechanics
herd
harmony halos
a meek
module consciousness.
the
science of
ruin trumping the
meat
cakes of dawn
with simile damage &
diuretic deconstruction.
an
alley thin
shadow simian
blends doorways
at
13
o'
clock
9/2/10
who-what-when-where-why ...and tipsy widows
Dear Theoretical Readers (or spambots):
My name is Brian Dale & I live in Athens, TN -
which is better than living nowhere,
but only just barely.
I have been recently published
in the whirling eddies of 3 streams,
the whispers of your mother's gynecologist
&
on the back of the last pack of gum
you left to melt in the car's back window.
Otherwise, I am saving himself for
some nifty tornado
or
a biped with more words than legs.
I'm not really sorry,
but I'll make you a sandwich if you're hungry.
Be glad you're not him, because I am (usually).
My name is Brian Dale & I live in Athens, TN -
which is better than living nowhere,
but only just barely.
I have been recently published
in the whirling eddies of 3 streams,
the whispers of your mother's gynecologist
&
on the back of the last pack of gum
you left to melt in the car's back window.
Otherwise, I am saving himself for
some nifty tornado
or
a biped with more words than legs.
I'm not really sorry,
but I'll make you a sandwich if you're hungry.
Be glad you're not him, because I am (usually).
9/1/10
out by your quiet [poem, 09.01.10]
out by
your quiet
pool, a darkly
eyeing
shine told
me to
avoid
evaporation.
its watch
bled
1:23 & laughed,
but through
the
swagger i
thought
i detected a
glint &
asked again
seeking
sureness
- ignore that
splash it's
just the
cricket
pastors
preaching insect
hymnals with
broad mantis
glee &
fine
stitchery
still,
it reminded
again
me:
avoid
evaporation
8/12/10
On Starting to Start
It's not that we don't know what to write, it's that we don't know where to start.
It's as if the bewilderment of choice overwhelms the decision-making circuits somehow. The raucous din of 1001 ideas and desires and fears, all clamoring for expression now Now NOW! A man with 2 watches never knows what time it is and frequently misses the train.
But all that racket and hooplah just won't do. To write effectively, we have to drill down into the very word and phrase of it, take the idea's wings and polish them to shine, then fly it seductively into the gaze of their mind's eye to grab their attention.
The dance of meaning must be precise and properly dramatic, or one of the other thousand nearby explosions of sensory input will drown our words in the numb disregard of distraction.
The glint and glare of unwritten ideas can wreak havoc with our ability to begin, continue and finish with any semblence of sanity afterwards.
We're like sugar-high children at a carnival of possibilities. All the noise and magic and sawdust frenzy of the whole thing makes it hard to slow down enough to do anything except marvel, and want to do everything at once because it's all so amazingly alluring.
If only doing everything didn't mean nothing would really get done.
The other side of the same can't-decide is the slothful difficulty of actually FINISHING something and giving it final public birth. It's so easy and alluring to let it loll around unformed and unedited, always just about to be The Perfect Idea, The Perfect Piece. Just about....almost. Almost never happens.
Unfortunately, creation demands we slay The Possible to birth The Actual.
We have to make explicit, defining choices over and over again till we've soaked it in our intent and our vision. And no one can tell us how to do that but ourselves, because the answer is scribed inside places we can't even see without the creation acting as a bridge into them.
But so much of life is the direct opposite of that, a near-constant stream of discouragement and jockeying for position with little regard for what your say is. A tide of No's and demands that you must adjust to.
Writing is hard because it requires courage enough to simply have an opinion or story. But to take the time to nail that lofty butterfly down and tag it with words so others can enjoy it is even more difficult.
The butterfly would rather flit free afield, far from the semantic eyes of the reader. And it's easy to get entranced simply watching it fly around.
However, the net won this battle. Next time it may go to the butterfly.
Remember: you can't catch if you don't chase.
Start!
It's as if the bewilderment of choice overwhelms the decision-making circuits somehow. The raucous din of 1001 ideas and desires and fears, all clamoring for expression now Now NOW! A man with 2 watches never knows what time it is and frequently misses the train.
But all that racket and hooplah just won't do. To write effectively, we have to drill down into the very word and phrase of it, take the idea's wings and polish them to shine, then fly it seductively into the gaze of their mind's eye to grab their attention.
The dance of meaning must be precise and properly dramatic, or one of the other thousand nearby explosions of sensory input will drown our words in the numb disregard of distraction.
The glint and glare of unwritten ideas can wreak havoc with our ability to begin, continue and finish with any semblence of sanity afterwards.
We're like sugar-high children at a carnival of possibilities. All the noise and magic and sawdust frenzy of the whole thing makes it hard to slow down enough to do anything except marvel, and want to do everything at once because it's all so amazingly alluring.
If only doing everything didn't mean nothing would really get done.
The other side of the same can't-decide is the slothful difficulty of actually FINISHING something and giving it final public birth. It's so easy and alluring to let it loll around unformed and unedited, always just about to be The Perfect Idea, The Perfect Piece. Just about....almost. Almost never happens.
Unfortunately, creation demands we slay The Possible to birth The Actual.
We have to make explicit, defining choices over and over again till we've soaked it in our intent and our vision. And no one can tell us how to do that but ourselves, because the answer is scribed inside places we can't even see without the creation acting as a bridge into them.
But so much of life is the direct opposite of that, a near-constant stream of discouragement and jockeying for position with little regard for what your say is. A tide of No's and demands that you must adjust to.
Writing is hard because it requires courage enough to simply have an opinion or story. But to take the time to nail that lofty butterfly down and tag it with words so others can enjoy it is even more difficult.
The butterfly would rather flit free afield, far from the semantic eyes of the reader. And it's easy to get entranced simply watching it fly around.
However, the net won this battle. Next time it may go to the butterfly.
Remember: you can't catch if you don't chase.
Start!
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