Whudda W.A.S.T.E.

"Tell them I said something important. You're supposed to say something important when you die." Last Words of Poncho Villa

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Name: Monstro
Location: Northampton, Massachusetts, US

"Behind the intials was a metaphor, a delirium tremens, a trembling unfurrowing of the mind's plowshare. The saint whose water can light lamps, the clairovoyant whose lapse in recall is the breath of God, the true paranoid for whom all is organized in spheres joyful or threatening about the central pulse of himself, the dreamer whose puns probe ancient fetid shafts and tunnels of truth all act in the same special relevance to the word, or whatever it is the word is there, buffering, to protect us from." Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

a poem

My wife says she wishes I still wrote poetry. Oh well, but here's one from the old days.


The Age Old Art of Conversation

You talk, I talk
You talk, I talk
You talk, I talk
not
you talk, you talk, you talk


...and that, I suppose, is why I don't write poetry any more.

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