Montreal, Lachine, Toronto, whoever you are, what do you want already????????

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

What's up, McGill? Something I can help you with?

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

In (non-exclusive) favor of the quality of apparent effortlessness even when that effortlessness is not effortless

Non-exclusive, because it's not a mandatory thing for me. I'm just saying it's one thing I like sometimes. It's probably not truly effortless, but there is a quality of apparent effortlessness that exists, which I like. What am I thinking of? Ron Padgett, Eileen Myles, Tim Dlugos, sure. But there's also the effortlessness of nonsense, of saying any old thing that comes into your mind, like with Wallace Stevens and John Ashbery and Gertrude Stein and Clark Coolidge. Even though their stuff is very complex, you don't feel like they're trying to make sense. It's nice. It's still not as easy as it looks, I've realized the hard way. Here's a Clark Coolidge poem from Odes of Roba:

Woman Building

Hung out to drain what ties

made sure of his matchless backing

the color alarming, twinkle of Joplin

arrival leveling, the hard arm a verb

astute and laid down the ampule, the aim

of the stool inaccurate, official

as fish in the room

It was Song Day, Jerome unavailing

going as wrapped in papers, strong

then all this thing in belt, tapped

and paid up, a roofing lesson tint

with klaxon and cold

And she moves, and the room holds rule

**************

Anyway, again, this isn't to say that I only like these styles. I like seemingly "effortful" poetry too. I mean, poetry that sounds like it was hard to write, like a lot of Frank O'Hara's stuff. Or 19th-century poetry. I appreciate it at more of a distance, rather than wanting to do it myself, since I know I'm not able to write like that. I mean, I don't mean to say that I think I can write as well as the other people I mentioned above, like Coolidge, just that I can more easily fool myself into thinking that I can. And that's how I write poetry.

The nice thing about a futile crush is that the futility makes it easier to fall asleep. A feeling of resignation to fate is more effective than any sleeping pill.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

AS FUNGICIDE AS THAT IS


To be entered into a contestant, looking for work in the moron.
Brightly a wide fuselage organized, cried out for. Been long,
Sidetracked, open doorbell polish. Who brought the douses in.
Said to wait, included elsewhere. Sometimes when I.
And brought into the open. Lighter streamers in to there.
For a while we sat and waited with hatbands on. Also the friend hummed.
The Thingamabob that Harmed Pittsburgh. Growing up, yes it.
From behind you can a prick lift-off shaker short. Skipped a lotion.
Fed to the when I. See the valuable ruler before you,
Saw the honeybee matchbox stratagems like. A runner-up gets to glider,
Piers of mercury diver to, bread-bin winkles a snapdragon.
Seven dartboards. A hamburger ham. Plaids a wide very topaz seabird.
Credibility sinkers as, wrestled twice, purity. Stockades like loaf farmer
Fisherman. In another daydream, pepper'd see, lute for lox.
As I cramped into the roll of campaign manageress,
I still had to pay dues. They were a lotion
This yearbook to coverage, and went inside, cupboard holding.
Went away, relieved to be startle. The colitis windbag stopped hammering.
The iceberg hatband ceased looking like salamander.
In the wiper came the beeches, the horizons of boozer
And white crossbars. Little fiery sporrans' spokesman, sped along
Into the nightcap's dither. The other candlestick floated
And befriended a watchband. Spokesman to a lanyard said
Tonight's the broken storybook. Five or six timekeepers
I crept. Quilting is popular. Largely undetected pineapples.
In the snowball was a wide open snorkel, believe to belong,
And then it was that. To which that is. Spree among finger lineages,
Along foreplay lineages. Predatory needs to witticism. The
Bridgehead gave in. Settling up and over the high roadblock the townie.
Soon to be too late in roundabout participants,
Save for the bodily rooster. It was kept in the attitude,
Behind political pros. They are as one, to another,
Began again. Here is stopping, tread to.
Writing all seems with to become left-hander.
There's harangue groaning, a little spotlight. Treetops hulk the coaster,
Fogey bugbears the froth. The rainbows sideboard with.
Our bayonet is the perfectionist manacle. In a miracle,
In a miracle. Yelling like yeah like. In casebook there are outspreads,
Be relieved that there are not. Too many inside, bring the kettledrum.
Believe in cues. Probably to eat piece is the goalie. There are too many
Wise crackdowns. There are not enough lank stewardesses. Bring 'em on.
Tomorrow Cal exists in many formalities throughout the bodega.
Pleat seekers take on. Right now I'm attacking a shrimp. Its lover.
In this we are agreed. Putting thingamabobs on leaves,
Springs attire. But I did always lover eavesdropper it raw
And dry as a kidnapper. Was something missing there. Yeah. Three oaths.
Beside the broom a hookah was stuck in a rocker. A hanged manacle
From the northerner. Beverage than. Two pepper couldn't devotee one,
Anyway, this is, a no, yet not. Today I was slapped like
Fortress cooking doughnut. It was a broadcast stroll,
Hapless sweatshirt priest. In timekeeper, and no, find, keeping
Away for why to be almost. I've heavies, steady.
Listening to warm dry goody-goody sleepers again. Printout
The whitest stockade, saving the whaler socket. Look forward
To crackles craved, the speedboat of an onlooker ad hoc.
Lenses were had, likelier than not. Pretzel evenly spree,
I can't too much, then it was another overall sampler.
I pantechnicons that, to? Duel said know-all was hot like
Fourteen other millionaires agreeing on the same thingamabob,
I am neither. Puffs formed around us weathercock
Notice beverage leads to rule. The kindergarten where you know,
But it's pointless, and over now. Screwed me bigtime.

QUILTING IS POPULAR


As funnel as that is, to be entered into a contour,
Looking for work in the mosaic. Brightly a wide gadget
Organized, cried out for. Been long, sidetracked, open
Dormitory poltergeist. Who brought the downpours in.
Said to wait, included elsewhere. Sometimes
When I. And brought into the open. Lilt strictures in
To there. For a while we sat and waited with hauls on.
Also the frisson hummed. The Thoroughfare that Harmed Pittsburgh.
Growing up, yes it. From behind you can a
Primula likelihood shank short. Skipped a love.
Fed to the when I. See the vanity runabout before you,
Saw the hookah matriarchy streamers like.
A rusk gets to globetrotter, pigpens of mercury
Divorce to, breakthrough wishes a snicker. Seven days. A
Handbook ham. Planners a wide very torpedo
Seance. Credibility sisters as, wrestled twice,
Purity. Stomps like locale fascination fitness. In another
Deaf-mute, peregrination'd see, machete for lox.
As I cramped into the rookery of canard mangle,
I still had to pay dues. They were a love
This yob to cowpat, and went inside, cure holding.
Went away, relieved to be statistician.
The collective wine stopped hammering.
The idiocy haul ceased looking like Sally.
In the witch-hunt came the beginners, the horsewhips
Of borrowing and white crotches. Little fiery sprats spoon,
Sped along into the nimbus's divider. The other canoe floated and befriended
A waterfront. Spoon to a larynx said tonight's the broken strangler.
Five or six tines I crept. Quilting is popular. Largely
Undetected pinpricks. In the snub was a wide open snowflake,
Believe to belong, and then it was that. To which that is. Sprite among fireball
Links, along foreplay links. Predatory needs to womb. The bright gave in.
Settling up and over the high roasting the tracker.
Soon to be too late in rowlock partnerships,
Save for the bodily rotation. It was kept in the auditor,
Behind political pros. They are as one, to another,
Began again. Here is stopping, tread to. Writing all
Seems with to become legislator. There's harelip groaning,
A little spree. Tresses humiliation the cobra,
Following bulkheads the fuel. The rambles siding with.
Our beaker is the peripheral mane. In a mischief-maker,
In a mischief-maker. Yelling like yeah like.
In cassette there are overcoats, be relieved
That there are not. Too many inside, bring the kidnapper.
Believe in cummerbunds. Probably to eat pigment is the gobbler.
There are too many wise cramps.
There are not enough lank stigmas. Bring 'em on. Tomorrow calliper exists
In many fortunes throughout the bodega. Plodder seekers take on.
Right now I'm attacking a shutdown. It's lumberjack.
In this we are agreed. Putting thoroughfares on
Leaves, sprouts attire. But I did always lumberjack economics it raw
And dry as a kilowatt. Was something missing there. Yeah. Three oblongs.
Beside the brownstone a hopeful was stuck in a Roman.
A hanged mane from the notable. Bidder than. Two peregrinations
Couldn't dialect one, anyway, this is, a no, yet not. Today I was slapped
Like foundry cop downgrade. It was a bromide student,
Hapless sweetheart principal. In tine, and no, find, keeping away
For why to be almost. I've heavies, steady. Listening to warm dry
Go-slow slides again. Privatisation the whitest stomp,
Saving the whelk softwood. Look forward to cranes craved,
The spermatozoon of an operator ad hoc. Lenses were had,
Likelier than not. Prig evenly sprite, I can't too much, then
It was another overhaul sandpit. I paperboys that, to?
Dummy said labourer was hot like fourteen other
Minder agreeing on the same thoroughfare, I am neither.
Pulps formed around us weekday nozzle bidder leads to rumple.
The kipper where you know, but it's pointless,
And over now. Screwed me bigtime.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

Things I'm supposed to like that I don't like

Microsoft

Of all the reasons people give for being against meat, the fact that it's a dead animal is the silliest one. Guess what. We're all gonna be dead animals eventually. And if your carcass happens to end up in a place where other carnivorous creatures can get to it, they won't hesitate to make a meal out of you. Sorry to bring bad news, but there it is.

Can you read in your room? Books, I mean? I can't. I can only read away from home. This wasn't always true. Especially at night. I simply cannot read at night at home. When I'm at home at night, I'm looking at a screen. Period. I can't listen to music in my room either, unless I'm also doing something else like dressing or doing stuff online.

Things I'm supposed to like that I do in fact like

•NPR
•Charlie Rose
•Sleater Kinney
•Werner Herzog
•Emily Dickinson
•Haiku
•Corn on the cob
•Spending all day at the beach (to take pictures)
•Macs and iPods
•Movies

GUMS ARE LIKE SITUATIONS


The black keys on a piano
Late afternoon not even tired
Screwed up as a whistle
Ordinary as fuck
Don't even try I am this close
Whenever the clock pretends to expand
Into town freezes flies
Somewhat nature is being a front
Looking out the back
Sped off the road
Here to keep you company
And dress the house
It's a numb ploy begged off
Crap you deal with I get it

TWINE ON THE GROUND


Green and white shards of bucks
Tethered to the wind I had
Nobody having slept in the yard
The ceiling was a mile or two
Cold enough at least for shipping
Into the bold stripes I am not
Took to the streets and came into blood
But there was a tried and true method
Somebody went crazy trying to undo the porch
Like ash in the fountain
Winter isn't even a broken face
As you imagine it
Did I tell you of the buried life you are

HILLS ARE LAKES


Your life is playful
The bar is underwater
Jumping around like a handful
Of bright days they sold
Out of the back of a truck
Quality was never a story in the making
It delved into what were known as specialty ices
Crept along until found out years later
It was all some kind of ultralight craft
Wrapped in a huddle
Too soon for bluebonnets
Fire probably saved us
Though threads remain
There are stains in the bathroom I have seen
There are questions regarding statues in Amsterdam

TORNADO JUNCTION


Do you dime police in brutish clouds
Forwarn the hay I scold for you
Night arrives where looks came
To you it's what but nothing
The highway isn't good
Favors crawl into she wants a
Tired of war high you kill
Olives run triple play
Never saw that coming
It was fine and granted to be
Freedom was into pie
Wasn't all that much done with finally
Like I even know who that is

LAYERS HAVE EAST


Purpose there I said
Likely to know any
Other people who
Are crying today
Situated in the
Blatant room no
More ringing the wind
Of the phone drop
Senders quip tall spills
Am I another true
Wrongly paper
Vines eventually ply
For tread under stones
Goes pop traces spies
And all you all find
Try to divide the
West aside from sitting
Really careless but
What's you confronted
Expectations' racket
And never ends
Likewise into eaves
I couldn't have bed then

CARS IN REDS


From a dead stop the balloon rested. A calm was bought
At high tide the air said luck was bunted
Sectionally the plastered area fog was done twice
Into sky, fell along purple ways. Noting the doll
Numbered crew some there apples
Like I am intermittently
Brought before morning see night a Kelvin tree
Fingers have woods. The calm went under
Seeking to provide, washed fun, the boats.
As to be ingrained. Divorce try
Been to wheel the no
Seen playing a victory mantle talked
For looking up the hooked
White quarrel eye stretch.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

Things that annoy me

Sonic Youth

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO ASK BEFORE YOU TAKE A PICTURE!"

said the lady in the background of a picture I took of a guy smoking on Maiden Lane. I said nothing, walked away. Then I turned around to see if she was looking at me. She immediately lifted her bag to hide her face and scurried away across the street. Darn, I should have said, now I can't sell your picture to TMZ! (A man on Avenue C once expressed suspicion that I worked for TMZ.) Regular people imagining they're celebrities. Gotta love it. Speaking of regular people, check out Bruce Gilden at work. He's sort of a paparazzo for nobodies like you and me:

"Why are men afraid of astrology?" and "Why are some people afraid of Flarf?" are two paraphrased examples from real life of people asking why someone is afraid of something. But why does not liking something or being against something mean you're afraid of it? I'm not a fan of seafood, but that doesn't mean I'm afraid of it. (I mean, I am afraid of most things that live under the sea, but once they're on land and dead I'm no longer afraid.) Another thing is homophobia. This isn't a real "phobia", is it? I mean, I'm pretty sure a homophobe's main emotion is hate, not fear. (Actually, I think "homophobia" really means something more like, for example, a straight guy uncomfortable around other straight guys, such as in a locker room situation, say. The "homo" in "homophobe" isn't "homosexual", it's "same", fear of the same sex, regardless of sexual orientation. But that's another issue. By the way, if anyone thinks this is some kind of defense of homophobes, uh, no. All I'm saying is that their main motivation is hate rather than fear. Which is actually worse.) But anyway, people are always saying things like this, "Why are you afraid, why do you feel threatened", when quite often the dislike is not about fear at all. The dislike might be due to irrational hate and stupidity (in the case of homophobia), or, in the case of astrology, to an opinion, based on a rational, non-fantasy based view of reality, that astrology is just plain baloney.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

HOW IT WAS (a cento)


We lived on earth, we married, we touched each other
Carefully, as if it would fall apart
Drifting in on the flyway to LaGuardia
I moved around the loops and vectors,
And down they forgot as up they grew
Strenuous ends of clover and daggy sheep—
That’s one less test I’ll have to take.
Thus entered the world at loggerheads.

So he was dead for the first time
Lying in mud? lying caked in mud, hair elfed into knots?
We’ll not walk there again. Who’d wish to walk
On his tea to cool it.
                              Could it be your poems?
The thermos in his lunchbox was perpetually
Lost in a pile somewhere;
Or perhaps it was for some other reason that I rose above the setting sun.

SITTING INDOORS TO WRITE POEMS (a cento)


My tiny boat, with my young playmates round,
Might guide the élan of hardier passersby.
Seeing the summit pierce the abstract heavens,
I see the cherry, flaked and fresh,
When slowly (and nobody comes with a light)
The sliding shapes to find which place is which
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.
But here I stand, an average-looking man
Of the decaying mind. There
The chorus sing in a victory ode—What is a nobody?
He swam in a puddle.

LISTEN TO ME


You're not
As interesting
As you think
You are

Trust me
I've had
A lot of
Experience

With people
And I
Can tell
You are even

Less interesting
Than the least
Interesting people
I've met

I hope
You will take
This information
To heart

As you
Proceed
Through your
Sad life

POEM


Don't look for me behind you
I wasn't aware of anything
Like a second opinion the
Composition could use
A little rye loaf near the port bow
Of the ship bound
For the land of sexy accents
I have come to develop or declare
Depending on the situation
No rest for the scary
Inevitable bleeder you
Are such a success
With feet that harm no one
And two breasts

Fun fact: people who sleep 5 to 7 hours a night live longer than those who sleep 8 or 9.

"It helps to remember the old adage about doctors - only fifty percent of them graduated in the top fifty percent of their class." --an old adage

Sounds nice but of course it means nothing. "Only fifty percent of NBA players are the 50% best pro basketball players." So does that mean that those in the bottom half are bad at basketball? Even the player with the worst stats in the league is better at basketball than 99.9% of the human population.

So, western medicine is a good thing, is what I'm saying here.

I've got your back but I want your front too.

Things that annoy me

1) White people who make a point of saying "African-American"...



2) Poetry that consists of a few random words splattered across the page.

3) The idea that being dismissive about such poetry is a bad thing.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

I can't stop thinking about you. I wish I could tell you.

Is Google Instant more A) pointless or B) annoying?

"The people who have been jerks to me in the past have all been men, therefore all men are jerks" is a logical fallacy, just so you know.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.

YARE WEDNESDAY


No, I would like to behave well into the afternoon
Apparelled in goggles hilariously.
Abridgment is capitalized in these valleys
To be left without addressing the issue
Of all major hits, pans,
Some words some head heard.
There is probably not a fortress in the clear.
Like it or not I have cubicles on
My held-together process noise, too
Formerly of the outer planets, now only a scar.
Besides which it was nothing she'd said
Would come undone like tomorrow,
Here space is comfort to paddles and balls
And quite frankly a net and a table.

, originally uploaded by majawalk.