here's a new poem I've been working on called "how long must I live in a world where back to the futures outrageous crimes against the doctrine of karma go unpunished?"
most people couldn't drink a pint of heavy cream without gagging. but they'll happily call it a family event if you make them eat it half-frozen. heraclitus would have loved this.
a quarter white onion, finely chopped
6 serrano peppers, finely chopped
big handful cilantro, roughly chopped
big pinch fleur de sel
grind to a paste in mortar
add 3 avocados, mash
stir in handful quartered cherry tomatoes
adjust for salt with fleur de sel, not kosher salt
thank me later
really like it when nature makes two of a thing because the second time it always looks like a person tried to draw the first from memory. skips straight to farce.
this Easter I am advising children everywhere to go to the grave with the song still in them because that which we can find words for is something already dead in our hearts
“Well Harry,” said Hagrid, “a translation is a lot like a plane crash. The smartest people in the world can recover 100% of the pieces and tell you exactly what happened, but that bitch ain't flyin.”
Reminded of @lazenby.bsky.social riffing on (help me out here) Cocteau or Godard, etc., in the Paris Review, that it's an indignation for an artist is to win an award, a sign the artist is finished.
It dignifies Raging Bull that it lost to Ordinary People--but Barbie ain't Raging Bull.
¿Aceptarás el asombroso poder de mi nave para ayudar a la humanidad por todos el tiempo futuro? ¿Usarás nuestro poder para destruir el hambre y el dolor y la muerte sin piedad ni excepción?
me: abuelita soy tu nieto
hello copbot 4000 do not shoot me in the head,
or if you must please grant my last request first
and explain the english pluralization rule at work
in
'my scissor collection' &
'the frames of my glasses'
During World War II American soldiers would scavenge the acrylic windscreens from downed bombers. They would whittle these into "sweetheart grips" for .45 caliber pistols, so that photos of loved ones could be embedded beneath.
me: [taking the laminated card out of the drunk's hands and his fifty] sorry friend to read is to comprehend and to comprehend is to understand and because you do not understand, you did not read.
him: but I just read you the first sentence!
me: [over shoulder] then say what it means
