two poems at zygote in my coffee. one about ice cream and death, the other an ekphrasis of a dream i had wherein gandhi and einstein make slow love.
for some reason nothing but solid winter keeps coming out my pores and mouth. my body doesn't know it is summer and i don't have a calendar i can hold and point to in front of my body. i drank the ouzo in the fridge but before doing that i set the glass on the counter and stared at the milk cloud that happens when you add water. i am not a traditionalist. i just wanted to see a chemical reaction.
book news is reverberating. blake butler's novel scorch atlas can be pre-purchased here. you can see him rape and set fire to his own book here then partially ingest his book here. ever was an experience unlike anything and i devoured it. i expect to do the same with scorch atlas. afterward however i will treat it kindly. maybe pour champagne on it.
shane jones's gorgeous light boxes is being adapted for film by spike jonze and ray tintori. on hearing this i said oh my god mantrically for several minutes. i danced a little. i dreamed about shane jones and electricity and woke with the chorus of ready, able in my head. i plan on leaving my cave to attend the premiere. i want to be there when hollywood is (tenderly) violated by independent literature.
i like getting things in the mail with staple qualms. staple qualms are sexy.
you can view reverence, art and porn courtesy of pear noir! here. i will say the porn is the most riveting porn i have ever viewed. i am glad pear noir! is no longer suicidal.