nagisa ni te

Ah, abandon the exhausted horse
Board the sinking ship,
It'll be just like that dream,
What happens after that,
I don't know any more
I already know.

Ah, Fading away, me on the beach,
My beach.

ode to fire island by vada sultenfuss

I like fire island a whole lot.
It tastes good when days are hot.
On a cone, or in a dish.
This would be my only wish.
Vanilla, chocolate, or Rocky Road,
Even with pie a la mode.
That's all I got so far.

just cuz

right
ride
my bike
and whistle
take a right
what's left
behind
behind
me

me, the non-man, and you in the glass

me:
today sky and water form one colorless canvas
"i want to dissipate"
curtains of water hung from high
rustle across the pavement
the man on the loading dock isn't moving
"isn't a man"
and all the drains and gates have rusted
i look at my chest darken in a cracked glass
"all the people caught in the net"
keep hidden indoors, dry in their cubes
while the bleakness enlarges
"and stains us
me, the non-man, and you in the glass"

me in the glass:
"there's a man on the loading dock and a vibration in the highway, summoning, saying death, saying sway stagger lift, they wear me out, they'd knock me down if they didn't pass through me see i'm not on the axis, i'm not on the plane, elevated away in a chemical stream a safe blood from the cold call the nearness the fall to the cold, the call, the nearness of--his eyes don't penetrate, the cars will go through me"

the non-man:
...

The birth of Kim Jong Il in the days when the liberation of the country was dawning was a great event for the Korean people.

check out uriminzokkiri, a website run by the north korean government and start losing your mind. the lady above is kim jong il's mamma.

a bit about his childhood:

"Kim Jong Il was unusual in his abilities of observing, discerning and analyzing things.

In his young days, with sincere and careful observation, he learned why hens hold their beaks up after pecking at water and why there are no black flowers. One year, on the night of August 15 by the lunar calendar, he was watching the moon. Someone told him that according to a legend, on the moon there is a cinnamon tree under which a rabbit is pounding something in a mortar. Remembering that a plane seems to grow smaller as it flies higher, and eventually disappears, Kim Jong Il refuted the legend by saying that a rabbit on the far-way moon cannot be seen.

His abilities of observing things and phenomena, and creative thinking were quite exceptional."

favorite lyrics as poetry

good
we slip through mansions with fences full-grown.
we slip through streetlights in crooked rows.
I saw the sky split in two: one half jealous and one half cruel.
I felt my chest cave in under a pile of synthetic grins.
the fields are day-glo under sobbing rainbows dragged through filthy thoughts,
false applause and camouflage.
I couldn't see the solar system,
it was camouflaged as a tape loop repeating.
I couldn't see the glorious meadow,
it was camouflaged as a smashed stain glass window.
I couldn't see the love and affection,
it was camouflaged as a jungle of erections.
I couldn't see the skeletal lightning,
it was camouflaged as a young machete.
-blood brothers

better
First the outside-legs of the bear
Up and fell down, in the water, like knobby garters
Then the outside-arms of the bear
Fell off, as easy as if sloughed from boiled tomatoes
Low'red in a genteel curtsy
Bear shed the mantle of her diluvian shoulders;
And, with a sigh,
She allowed the burden of belly to drop like an apron full of boulders
If you could hold up her threadbare
Coat to the light where it's worn translucent in places
You'd see spots where
Almost every night of the year Bear had been mending suspending that baseness
Now her coat drags through the water
Bagging, with a life's-worth of hunger, limitless minnows;
In the magnetic embrace
Balletic and glacial of Bear's insatiable shadow;
-joanna newsom

best
Beetles and eggs and blues and pour a little everything else
You steam a lens stable eyes and glass
Not get pissed off through my bird lips as good news
Still we can find our love down from behind
Down far behind this fabulous, my turn rules
Beetles and eggs and blues and bells and eggs and then blued
Beetles and eggs and blues and pour a little everything else
You steam a lens stable eyes and glass
Not get pissed off through my bird lips as good news
You'll hang the hearts black and dull as the night
We hanged your pass and start being as you in ecstasty
Still being cried and laughed at before
Should I be sewn in hugged I can by not saying
Still being cried and laughed at from light to blue
And should I be hugged and tugged down through this tiger's masque
-cocteau twins