Ode to Walt Whitman

. . .(latter end of poem)

Man is able, if he wishes, to guide his desire
through a vein of coral or a heavenly naked body.
Tomorrow, loves will become stones, and Time
a breeze that drowses in the branches.

( read on dear hearts )

"Beneath the city sidewalks - the beach!"

Anonymous graffiti, Paris 1968-- Guy Debord??

twenty?

Mourning, or, Suchness

All these no-poems
and that tree there comes into flower.
The snow is clinging to it like cherry blossoms
in so many droplets.
Today, we read mournful words;
ice skims on a water pail.

I brought my reservations-- surrounding next sunday's actions-- with me to Quaker meeting and left feeling more secure. I asked the meeting if there can be such a thing as compassionate violence, and what it might look like. Is non-violence really the skillfull means to revolution? A calm man stood in the silence and said

"In Western cultures we ( Read more... )

If I were to kiss you here they'd call it an act of terrorism--so let's take our pistols to bed & wake up the city at midnight like drunken bandits celebrating with a fusillade, the message of the taste of chaos.--Hakim Bey ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

Someone wrote, "I know what you did!?!" on my door.
Who wrote it? What did I do? Does it involve urine or latin men?

Viewing Peach Blossoms and Realizing the Way

In spring wind
peach blossoms
begin to come apart.
Doubts do not grow
branches and leaves.

--Do-gen

Sweet. My proposals were accepted for the Dirty South Radical Queer Convergence. And I found the workshop-list on theanarchoqueer group on LJ. They don't characterize the workshops the way I asked, but hey- whatever. It's all a hermeneutical variation man. So, if yall are free- come on down to Durham on the 19th of May ( Read more... )