Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Tempus tacendi

Blue (Chicago)

A brutal wind riled up about midnight. Half-sleep pictures of short-grain’d muscular oak limbs dashing the roof to pieces, and Beckett. Or a line out of Kenner: “Objectivity eschews nudges.” (Joe Friday: “Just the . . .”) Tempus tacendi, et tempus loquendi, as the reversible Mr. Pound in a black impermeable did not say.

There is a final big bounty of things to read in EPR 8, one of the electronic “ancients,” though susceptible—like us all—to irregular musketries of sloth and fervor. Edited by Katherine Hazzard, D. A. Powell, and Xu Smith.

I, too,
Visit’d by

A moment
Loose fly

Scarce anent
The ends

Of vernal
Skirl, and

Skew out
Vent’d dismay.

Shine a
Combine surfeit,

An implacable
Hey with

Ho nonny
Puttering about

Unfasten’d, unrestrain’d,
And quibbling.

Quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus . . .

Sleeping in Chicago