lee bob

Archive for the ‘minor poetics’ Category

What Wonderful * ECommerce Create:

In gleaners, minor poetics, spit on May 21, 2007 at 6:21 pm

told you about him is only a half-penny worth of them. I suppose it
Curiouser and curiouser. cried Alice she was so much blew open as of old,
and Peter dropped on the floor. unhappy spot. No blight had fallen on
old Essex; all was prosperity

Valued customer, It’s Summertime! Time to look nice on the sandy beach.
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Do come back time; the one blood-thirsty man, in whom were concentrated those taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on a pair of the gloves, and
was just going to leave the room, when it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like become wholly the property of one, unless by the extinction of the hateful sympathy in our secret souls. His education, indeed, in the And so it was
indeed: she was now only ten inches high…

Note from the Editor: (I’m not Sure what * is but I think it might be a Thom Yorke song)


ghost day

In minor poetics on February 2, 2007 at 7:23 am

Requiring key and/or code

That’s what I’ll leave behind

I’ve read my share of magazines
Tolstoy and trash, critiques of the cinema
On my lunch hour—What a waste!

I’ve scetched out film scripts
I’ve listed songs to be sung…

Now, to my progeny
What shall I bequeath?


Cryptic directions
To some places I’ve happened to visit.

Maybe they can pretend it is money
And burn it for me,
on Ghost Day.

a travelling show

In minor poetics on February 2, 2007 at 7:18 am

Down from a downloading binge
The Lady laughs at me.
I used to make music you know,
Over in America, I did.

Now I’m an English Dealer—
My wife and I—we go town to town–
Hawking vocabulary and concoctions.
Working in a travelling show.


In minor poetics on February 2, 2007 at 7:14 am

No gurus no patriotic songs
No piano no plaintive strings

No-one can turn the tide
Far too many have died
The numbers roll in
Now, it’s a family affair
Allover, someone knows of someone…

I pause,
I’m suspicious of questions
I don’t need answers
And can offer only prayers.

Only prayers.
–Bangkok airport, Dec. 28, 2004


In minor poetics on February 2, 2007 at 6:59 am

I’d like to paint murals
With hyacinths big as city buses
Pore over your every detail
Just to pass the day…

The red of your cheak,
The pulse at your neck.
How to depict the smile?
A proliferation of tulips–

“Chelsea Bridge” spoken,
Halftones and lightness—
A gathering of women
Around a well, while I lean
on a lazy rake.


In minor poetics on February 2, 2007 at 6:53 am

Columbia Records
Asking MONK to record Beatles tunes—

Wow! Talk about Dixieland!

You know—
We take the oil out of the ground
And we think there’s a lot of it to go around.

Move past the arrogance of your position–
Step past the arrogance; into the embrace
Of your sound.

…It’s more important than ever
To stress
The spiritual aspects of our art.

  • excerpt from an interview w/ Wynton Marsalis,
    I don’t know when or where