Sun Scanning

The rues and the run ons of verse, while tanning. Rhymers called it tanning. Half way there poems, in the Dust Bin.

The Dust Bin

Pulling together poems in The Dust Bin — but this time while reading Empson.

First and 2nd chapters nicely outlined. In second read Ambiguity.

What the article will be, has turned dynamic. Empson is often going on about usage and meaning.

Says sweetest thing about dead metaphors in English poetry. That its just sleeping. And in some of us reawakens with alust…

And how he talks about how words are used to help create spaces, bridges across meaning, he defines as a certain kind of relationship with meaning, that invokes metaphors, and as such ambiguity.

Liquid for my Gun

Viens de Empsons book started to come —- its thick as a drip drip, started back on some poems over at my site. Books of the wire dire trying to calm to wretched flat u lance. Most over there are somewhat more than half done.

Am dreaming now, for go betweens, especially on the negs, Pattio with the Daddio, for schemes on The Novel. And also as condense language in verse to its ex-tooling dog-ma. There’s something going on there that is conversation about shapes and dogma… Who knew? Dyna thats who…

Shakes finds puns between the rue and the run ons…

Also, Empson believes, that experiments in spelling were manipulated by shakespeare in way that explores wide openly where metaphor resides for instance, whether syllable derivative crossing even with sound syllable driven as expansive vehicle for poking around in languagge and meaning itself.

Darkness before Dawn Empson Quote:

“to drape ourselves in transparent chains of negative”

Truly LOVE THAT.

Going There

This poetry double collection am dreaming up, is a stuck in darkness book. And must be sold as that. There’s a Christina Rossetti in it full blast thats punk laced, errant of time, and that errancy is its Divine, its love affair? Being pulled first by its beauty and then by its madness.

None of my poems in this collection exists without going there, the book is about ecstatically being overtaken by drape of that cloud and getting lost with Milton’s paper hanger stuck in its mouth -

Its oddly reassuring to think about verse as in part a rain of pun runs, gaming milty treacherously off his beloved stilts, seamy silt paradise lost fulls — as beauty shockingly encumbered.

I say to Pessoa I dont write for today I write for tomorrow so I can read it. He says thats ok….I rerid constantinopully.

Pissy pussy Punk handles.

Yes APOLOGIZE — Punk for me is where excremental humor comes up as synonymous with kissing in the truth booth whilst mocking explodes the absurd?

Poems with checks are near finished. Those with liquor still in glass are half finished. Those with Green Hands have been edited at least once. If they are still unchecked I basically havent decided yet.

Link to a few —

Will Yee Nill Yee

Sweetie

Pernicious Contrary

Un Less