Greatest Living Poet

Killing Me Softly With His Song [Album Version]

* I sit, coiled, like a fucking snake, waiting for someone else (interesting) to fuck with me (who I can then _devour_, BANG!). Without provocateurs we are blank, with nothing to gossip about ("What was that head-butting French guy thinking? Does Anne Coulter really want to beat 9/11 widows with a socket wrench?") At some point I *will* get new tricks. Until then...*you know*. BANG! With my fangs! In your fucking neck! Pow!

It would be fun to run at people completely at random. The problem with Being Funny (or trying really hard to be) everyday is Being Funny Everyday. But what would be funnier than taking someone out blogwar style that was completely loveable and innocent? Like beating on a bunny with an aluminum bat (or *Better* having a bunny beat on me with an aluminum bat). Satire moves in mysterious ways but it should only makes you *stronger*. If it doesn't then you're probably broken. Who told you you had the right to be so sensitive (Time to revive Whiny Self-Important Poetry Victims?)? I just want people to stand up to me (or guys like me). If there was a World Cup of Moping Americans would win. See you in tall grass! Hiss! Hiss! #1 on the crush list has new flarf!! Kiss Kiss!

Snow Strong As a Theorem

To modulate the darkly stoical
whose circumference is nowhere:
a fierce, magnetic clarity while searching
the already attained, the microcosm achieved.
It is impossible to translate the exigencies
of a pride one finds but rarely.
But the poignance says "Recover!".
Few can temper the expression
of pathos with as much elegance
or that good old Columbia charm.
So deftly whimsical with violin ruins.
On the edge of experiment yet the
center of the universe is everywhere.
Every nuance an incredible mastery.
One is reminded of an exciting circle.

Will Donald Hall refuse to visit with Laura Bush?? The world waits and I molt...

PS: Does *anyone* miss Ron Silliman's Blog?