Humble Pie

Humble Pie

Roll call. Every neg. That spikes the plunder. Now can pop like bubble wrap. Think of as capture. Put in columnar as artifacts that rhapsodize. Rolling with the thunder.

One foot hopper. Holiday mulct ? Every wag hog creates hampers, and cavorts with titillations in mulct that rallies with love.

Work thru the moo cow — as beauty stretching after limits. To cross into neg can assume sacred posture. As revelation.

Thralldom was a catch of fire. That love burned from. In the body.

Can become a treachery, and sufferance too. Relating to battles with the absurd and the fallen (cycle of death bunnies).

Thralldom can be about grace and its attendant insurrections. Body of the fallen, can get captured by violent sulks with the singular. Must push through push through — reactionary traumas, puzzling hurdles of structural blindness.

Take work seriously

Yes take work seriously but do mock the reveries.

And at this point can call “it” anything, from soup to nuts. Metaphysical has become that “liberated.”

Homeric? even.

There is Pre Monotheism Greek influence in my nostalgias. A kind of war, with gods and sirens (taking sides?) in a milieu of curious darkness. That windmills with Cervantes.

Also heavy influence of St. Mary coming through Queen Isis.

Primitive lures versus holy spotlessness of the devout, bares weight, as a struggle between beauty, violence, hunger, desire, horror.

Excursions occur at religious elevations — the cum bunny’s angeologies, taking escape from trudge drudge into Dantean dramas, into the woods searching for woody.


For me, its just not that harsh — I don’t think of other artists as decoys. But working through their own reds, glimpses, exponents, hydro and nightmare.

Is Joyce a decoy any more than rhymers I peel fruit from.

Intentions are now quite plain. Don’t think of other artists as decoys — but colleagues. And that includes any metaphysical elaboration — haulers, suppliers, miners for hearts of gold, steam ship operators.

Other artists inspire me at points of departure, where am afflicted with sudden touchstones, phrase hunting in the rhetoric.

Its a Joyce foist. Thats how I see it. Rub in the tub with the flowering shrub.

Even if scathing. Scathing is an old cleanliness torture.

Carpet bagging is about taking advantage of the defeated. I am not taking advantage of anyones defeated. Not even my own. And I let it be whatever it arrives as. Play at its beautiful distraction, live in and outside its mystery.

Starts Back with Blake

The “sunflower” way I fell in love with Blake.

How his rhythms swim across in excess of time, as spirit in an air, immersed in its wild dare. And that there is a “true” authenticity in the “breadth” of his delusional wanderings.

It leant to me a search for genus and range of authenticity with respect to my own such as it is odyssey —


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