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Flannery O'Connor has a blog

Fred

http://flanneryoconnor.blogspot.com/

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9/24/2007 01:07:00 AM
3 Comments



Dalia

I will stay with the patterns inside my eyelids
What is whimsy when you have walked up the junction
Trash collectors’ dues
This is the Baghdad street
We know what happens here
Leave, leave
They just want
I mean, possibly, they must just
Examine
What the pillage
All in a day’s
In a daze
Pardon me it’s just
Take this opportunity
Remind me again why
I never thought of it well
Encounter
Probably, son.
We just multiply
Reason, repeat
We don’t find
Strewn
Like feathers
Expanding
No but
This isn’t like
We and our histories
It’s not
They are alone
That’s how they do it
It’s in a book
Like what else
Surely not this isn’t
It’s a curse,
Just like the one in that book
I didn’t mean
It’s a line
I was fed it
Don’t worry me about
Real, really
I saw it on the
You know this one
Can we not do this tonight
We parade the stain
Just this, please, justice
Non-certainty
Predictable
If you’re so, then how come you
There it is again, throbbing
Look they said it again all at the same time
It’s inefficient
Mark it
It’s a brief time
Penned, penned
We wrote it down, we locked it up
Forget it
Like it was before
Just apologize
Right, zero
Fountain inside
Don’t try to quiz me
Desert, December
Don’t like this
Fine, just
Don’t forget to remember
Like it was
It’s all too
Marred
Like it was in the summer
Up to Uptown
Uptown jungle
It’s not like this
Listen, repeat
Forget it’s all the same
This time
We don’t have this moment
There’s a line
We can’t always do
Why don’t you just
Say
Like the way it was
Excuse it
We don’t want to just come out and shoot it
Like the books, this time
We don’t have to fire
Right, but listen
It’s not what I said
You can’t just command it
I will just stay here on this side and watch
That’s what they said
That’s what they said
That’s what they said
Now
Look at them now
It’s not frightful obedience
You don’t mean
Yes
I said it last time
Mighty pavilion
Rises
Through the smoke
Chamberlain
He tells a prayer
Like the last
Effort
Don’t remember
Remarkable.
You don’t have to
Sleep, just sleep
We’ll come again tomorrow
Fortress shattered
Milk the cattle
I get by get by
Forcing, fighting
Let’s draw
It was not that way
Excuse these times
Less than what they would
But now, this time
Much worse this time
It’s the same

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9/19/2007 03:19:00 PM
2 Comments



something is in the water in brooklyn

Fred

... and it must run in my own veins.

Akron/Family
The Dirty Projectors
Grizzly Bear
TV on the Radio
Yeasayer

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9/16/2007 07:49:00 AM
0 Comments



new favorite new bands

Fred

myspace.com/bodiesofwater
myspace.com/yeasayer

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9/14/2007 09:59:00 PM
0 Comments



Dalia

Even the cosmopolis gridded itself

until its hues were

pixelated;

Liquid could not pass.

[around the corners of its systems]

And it, too, froze and shattered in the substucture

and like fine bacteria clustered around the underbelly

Scurrying from indistinguishability

ever mitosizing,

Extinguishing and organizing.

It blindly found its way.

Lest we diviply our multivided

manufacturisms,

and based on believings

(conceivings, actually)

self-deploy a fine feathered fiction



in boxes in boxes
in boxes in boxes
in boxes in boxes
in boxes in boxes

in boxes in boxes
in boxes in boxes
in boxes in boxes
in boxes in boxes

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9/12/2007 03:32:00 PM
0 Comments



all that there is

Fred

it isn't superficial, exactly,
it's just that there's nothing to hide
everything is garish and as obvious as neon

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9/11/2007 03:09:00 PM
2 Comments



Leaves on my Heart

DrewTM

Yesterday, a harbinger came
She softly cried and wore cloudy garb
in a coach of summer lightning.

The message she brought made me pause,
written in gold on sun and breeze,
and traced by indolent insect wings.

Now she's gone. Her message fades.
A perfume trail from her Mistress's vial,
though, does not quickly fade away.

"Autumn is coming to find you."

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9/11/2007 02:01:00 PM
0 Comments



Mistake

Greg

my mind screams, "NO!" and yet...
i will not listen

a brief reprieve
from a moment of solitude
in a life of relation

mistake

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9/10/2007 11:36:00 PM
0 Comments



my 3 lines

Fred

DrewTM wrote...

"Ok, here is the plan. I am going to seed a poem, and you will each add 3 lines, rearranging the whole thing as you wish. You should all do it, all seven of you, and then it will be full grown, and we can title it, depending on what it's about. Post each expansion as a new post, and feel free to post other stuff in the meantime--this doesn't have to monopolize the blog. Here it goes..."

Wood is made of mud, and stars of sawdust.
Magnetized, steel-throated tunnel of a mind
traipses through the marsh,
to another place and time.

I follow my feet and still they lead,
from dusty hillocks and abraded desert
to screaming lakes of necessary vacuum.
From hunger to hunger.

The lead-beast

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9/10/2007 09:09:00 AM
0 Comments



NOW it's art!

DrewTM


But seriously, awesome photo Dalia! I just had to do a tribute... uh, a humor tribute to a non-humorous artwork. Yeah, that's it, it's a tribute. : )

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9/09/2007 09:04:00 PM
2 Comments



My 3 Lines

Dalia

DrewTM wrote...

"Ok, here is the plan. I am going to seed a poem, and you will each add 3 lines, rearranging the whole thing as you wish. You should all do it, all seven of you, and then it will be full grown, and we can title it, depending on what it's about. Post each expansion as a new post, and feel free to post other stuff in the meantime--this doesn't have to monopolize the blog. Here it goes..."



The lead-beast traipses through the marsh and would
magnetize its steel throated tunnel of a mind
to screaming lakes of necessary vacuum

So I follow my feet and they still lead
my mind to another place and time.

Wood is made of mud.

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9/09/2007 03:21:00 PM
0 Comments



Yesterday

Dalia

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9/09/2007 02:54:00 AM
1 Comments



the natural law and the unhappy medium

Fred

I taste every thought that squirts from your mind,
I see every word you say.
I don't even know that music, but my voice is begging,
just reveal the secret to me.

"It is better to give than to receive"
There is a silver balloon gloating over me.
I wrap myself in cloudy blankets
day after day.

Saturday is a mousepad, rolled, in my throat.
Yes, my eyes have seen the glory:
God is coming slowly, I am going slowly.
May wonders never cease

For your touch I would fling wildly
my flesh to the vast forests of earth.
The creaks of my heart caulk the cracks in my mind,
down the wood of my soul weighs my body's beams.

For your touch I would hate my life.
My strength, oh my strength, my links to you,
My strength never came to
for I do not understand myself.

My scattered self stares from all sides,
springing forth from proprietary psychoses, and I am scared.
I am a monkey in the middle
day after day.

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9/08/2007 11:36:00 PM
1 Comments



A new experiment!

DrewTM

Ok, here is the plan. I am going to seed a poem, and you will each add 3 lines, rearranging the whole thing as you wish. You should all do it, all seven of you, and then it will be full grown, and we can title it, depending on what it's about. Post each expansion as a new post, and feel free to post other stuff in the meantime--this doesn't have to monopolize the blog. Here it goes...



So I follow my feet and they still lead
my mind to another place and time.

Wood is made of mud.

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9/08/2007 11:04:00 PM
0 Comments



please to arrange this to a coherency thank you

DrewTM

PLEASE ARRANGE THIS FOR ME, AND TITLE IT.

I can taste lightning-it tinges the edges of my tongue.
"Goodbye, good sir, I am going to bed"
just reveal the secret to me!
but holy huddles are comfortable
wrap yourself in cloudy blankets
"I need a woman"
my brain is leaking and cooling
scabby crust of rock, of oblivion
I don't even know that music, but my voice is begging
salient to broadcast my pride, pleading
I hear every word you say
I see every word you say
I taste every thought that squirts from your mind
touch is the language of the unconscious
"it is better to give than to recieve"
there is a silver balloon gloating over me
springing forth from proprietary psychoses
change your password, sir, or forfeit
your right to use me, my right to my left
day after day
day after day
saturday is a mousepad, rolled, in my throat
yes, my eyes have seen the glory
God is coming slowly, I am going slowly.
may wonders never cease
for your touch I would hate my life
for your touch I would fling wildly
my flesh to the vast forests of earth
the creaks of my heart caulk the cracks in my mind
down the wood of my soul weighs my body's beams
my strength never came to
my strength, oh my strength, my links to you
for I do not understand myself
my scattered self stares from all sides, and I am scared
I am a monkey in the middle

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9/07/2007 10:28:00 PM
1 Comments



Madeleine L'Engle - November 29, 1918 – September 6, 2007

Fred


" Hold me against the dark: I am afraid.
Circle me with your arms. I am made
So tiny and my atoms so unstable
That at any moment I may explode. I am unable
To contain myself in unity. My outlines shiver
With the shock of living. I endeavor
To hold the I as one only for the cloud
Of which I am a fragment, yet to which I'm vowed
To be responsible. Its light against my face
Reveals the witness of the stars, each in its place
Singing, each compassed by the rest,
The many joined to one, the mightiest to the least.
It is so great a thing to be an infinitesimal part
of this immeasurable orchestra the music bursts the heart,
And from this tiny plosion all the fragments join:
Joy orders the disunity until the song is one."

- From Instruments (II)

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9/07/2007 01:30:00 PM
0 Comments



ARCHIVES
July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009

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AUTHORS
Fred (premature academic)
Dalia (not afraid of nothing)
Drew (sub-creator)
Ryan (tangling futures)
Daisy (tap the sun)
Matt (two-line king)
Nick (rats and wreckage)

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