“Author’s Choice”

As many of you already know, the elimae archives for 2005-2012 are now housed as cooprenner.com. (At the moment, they are still at elimae.com as well.) But a new distillation is available as well: “Author’s Choice” allows authors that Kim, Brandon and I published to select their favorites from their work at elimae. Have a look.

Dang me!

So Brian Beatty (y’all know Brian Beatty), he posts on Facebook

Sitting here high, just getting ideas
You’d have to be a big fool to live like I do

(quoting, more or less, Roger Miller)

which he (Brian) says “may be the best country lyrics ever”

so I post a link to a clip of Miller singing a snippet from “Chug-a-Lug”

and my friend Lou, she pipes up and tells how

I was on a plane with him once flying from LAX to Albuquerque. The luggage thingy was chewing up our luggage and he picked up his mangled garment bag and said “Dang.” True story.

and I’m thinking, Dang me, that’s good.

i sing of Olaf glad and big

A tribute to those brave folk who just said, “No.” Courtesy of e.e. cummings.

i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or
Read more

The Silent Flute by Bruce Lee

Miracle Jones, the pearl of Texas, tosses a Bruce Lee poem to the youtube gods…

Dirge – a lewd Dorothy Parker poem

The way we were became a tale
To caution would-be lovers.
A shroud, a veil, a pallid pall
Replaced our common covers.

Every ride down every street’s
A funeral procession.
An icy grip is every slip
Of your name as it’s mentioned.

The blackbirds in the garden
Sing a misérable chanson.
Oh how I miss the way my lips
Wrapped right around your johnson.

More here.

BBC Scotland Weather

BBC Scotland Weather. It’s a thing.

(Thanks to Wil Freeborn.)

Lucy Foley: Songs for People I Will Never See Again

If you are in or near NYC, you have time to get to apexart for the first performance of Songs for People I Will Never See Again, a new live multimedia show by Lucy Foley, accompanied by her four-piece band. Sound design and additional music composition are by Lucy’s collaborator Ross Bonadonna, and instrumentation will include guitars, steel pan, synthesizers, laptops, toy piano, and clarinets, with a driving and playful rhythm section. There’ll be live and recorded music, projected imagery, and a spoken word narrative. It’s at 6:30 PM, and it’s FREE!
Read more

Ecstatic poem, annotated, call-and-response

Via rejectamentalist manifesto.

April Holy Foolish Palm Sunday Interview with Patti Smith

An hour-long interview with Patti Smith, endearing and, dare I say, inspirational.

I liked her music less and less after the first brilliant album; that much said, I worshipped her when I was in my early twenties and went to see her perform every chance I had. She was brilliant live. (And I have one of her guitar picks from the Radio Ethiopia tour.)

At bottom I have always admired her terrifically. She is tremendously endearing in this interview — both genuinely, unaffectedly girlish at 65 and mature and wise.

Watch or listen to this interview even if you do so in bits and pieces or while tending to other things.

dueling banjos

The Emigrant Irish (Eavan Boland)

Like oil lamps, we put them out the back,

of our houses, of our minds. We had lights
better than, newer than and then

a time came, this time and now
we need them. Their dread, makeshift example.

(Undye-ing gratitude to @Howlinow for her tip to the full text of Boland’s poem.)

Hipsemantic Oratory from Lord Buckley

in recognition of the Ides of March.

(Cf. Willie the Shake. Julius Caesar. Act 3, Scene ii. Lines 74-108)

Hipsters, flipsters, and finger-poppin’ daddies
Knock me your lobes
I came to lay Caesar out
Not to hip you to him
The bad jazz that a cat blows
Wails long after he’s cut out.

tweet of the day

from the spam

His bread fell into the honey.

ur-sound

I suspect, even without knowing the context, the sound would be deeply unsettling.

via Suzanne Fischer

The Mother Courage of Rock

She was skinny, quick-witted, disarmingly unprofessional, alternating between stand-up patter, bardic intonations, and the hypnotic emotional sway of a chanteuse, and she was sexy in an androgynous way I hadn’t encountered before. The elements cohered convincingly; she seemed both entirely new and somehow long-anticipated. For me at nineteen, the show was an epiphany.

Luc Sante on Patti Smith.

Springtime 1976, I was living in the cinderblock building on the glorified median strip there where they split Highway 13, and one day I went over to this one girl’s apartment, she lived right by the guy who dealt me speed, and she said, “Hey, you know who you remind me of? You remind me of Patti Smith!”

Gave her a possum grin I’m still grinning.

Damar, Mon Amour (out of context)

In context: Starlingo ii.

Damar torn from the flock.

What is Damar? Who is Damar? What is Damar?

What does it feel like to be alive?

Mich Kemeter on the Taft Point in Yosemite, CA is walking unprotected a 30m /99 feet long highline both ways.

(via ★slyoyster)

from the moderated comment spam

All we ever wanted was everything?
I like the discussion set into the sidebar.
I bet everyone would do great if they were
to wear a great Santa Claus Outfit or Costume.
And then get everything for Christmas that
they need! Great work!

from the comments

KevinQ:

One day

Xiao Ming another class ….
a sudden “rush”
(fart)
a cry;

sitting next to a small U.S.
scolded and said:
Xiao-Ming

Ah ~ if you could not make a noise;

in a haze

seeing isn’t necessary, running is. so say the limbs to the eyes.
screams echo in a haze but there is no body.

from the comments

Michael Lang:

I wipe with Quilted Northern. A brand whose complete lack of shame about its naked body inspires me. And so I honor it by putting my poop on it.

from the comments

Amanda Mae Meyncke:

This car is mad crescent fresh, I want this in baby blue with crushed diamonds up in the paint job. I want white leather seats, soft as silk. I want it. I am Johnny Depp flying across the desert at night, trying to get to Vegas and write my story. If I crash the first one I’ll buy another one, hell I might have two laying ar ound just in case I want to try and drive both at once like an old timey chariot race. One will be retrofitted for English driving practices, then I will stand, one foot on each of the doors, and drive two cars at once. Fly on, my blue steeds.

Offer 5 Fish — Asbury

Posted to the Dubuque Freecycle group Tue Aug 9, 2011 7:28 pm (PDT):

Freshwater. Don’t eat much.

1 very large pscosamis 6″
1 white algae eater
1 Dinosaur Bircher
2 unknown middle swimmers

Must take all.

Asbury

Andy

A New Favorite–Adam Robinson

Okay I found this guy’s book of poems– Adam Robison and Other Poems poems by Adam Robinson– in Marfa (no, I didn’t get the spelling wrong here) and as Cindy will tell you, I have not yet stopped laughing about things found in it. Here’s one with a sound that kills me:

Steve Reich Hears a Pentecostal Preacher

it’s gonna rain hew
it’s gonna rain hew
it’s gonna rain hew
it’s gonna rain hew
it’s gon rain hew
it’s gon rain hew
it’s gon rain hew
it’s gon rain hew
it’s gon fwip
hitsit’s gon fwip
hitsit’s gon fwip
it’s gon fwip
it’s gon hitsfwip
it’s it’s heep
if heep it’s heep
if heep it’s rain
heeit’s rain heeit’s rain
rain h rain h rain h raib
sgon! ifraib sgon! ifraig sgon!
raigsgon sgon sgon rai
sgon r sgon ra sgon r sgon rai
it’s g fwip
it’s g fwip
ifsy g fwip
he rain
he rain fwip
herain
herain

Not all of the poems are like this one, but risk abounds throughout. He’s a person who realizes that sometimes the only way to make a poem is to kick the shit out of it, and then sort of prop it up there and step away.

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