Sunday, August 20, 2006

This blog is quite dead.

It goes on the cart now.

Saturday, January 25, 2003

Are you a poet living in Western New York?

Sign up now for Urban Epiphany 2003, a community gathering of poets. Each poet will read for two minutes each.

Saturday, November 16, 2002

Home is where the Lennon is

Joe and I have been rehearsing Beatles tunes to perform at the annual Cold Turkey: A Tribute to John Lennon show which happens every year at Nietzsche's, organized by the ever-industrious Michael Meldrum. Joe and I each picked one song to do--interestingly, each is about home, returning home. Can you name the two songs we are doing? If you can, I'll give a little prize. (Disqualified are my darts crew, who were there as we planned...)

Thursday, October 24, 2002

Sorry to have been gone so long.

Bruce Jackson, the most astute political thinker (NOT politician) in our town, offers this analysis of the "Lackawanna Six." I, too, have been supplied with no evidence that they did anything actually illegal, and think if a just trial is given them, that this will be clear. I fully believe Bush (who personally ordered the arrests) did so to make a point. The FBI and the men in question had been in what I understand to be fairly open communication for up to six months prior to the arrests. The media and the Resident are creating this "threat"; it does not exist in fact.

Friday, September 13, 2002

Terrorist cell block seemingly discovered just outside Buffalo....

Friday, September 06, 2002

Joe T., I think maybe this is one long poem, a poem of many moments and paragraphs and maybe one day we can read it as such on some jazz stage somewhere, here or there. C.

Wednesday, September 04, 2002

Today I am restless & thinking of the windy view from Sutro Heights, the most perfect place in San Francisco, to me. Take the 38 Geary to the end of the line. Cut through the gardens. The view at the edge of the park is of beach, highway, city, and wild land at the edge of the continent. Play some Glaga at the arcade. Is it gone now? Walk through the baths, picnic atop the cliffs lush with ice plants. Drink overpriced margaritas at Cliff House when the wind turns cold. Listen to the seals. Go home. Know not what to do with self. No words.