Lower Manhattan from the Q train.

She has been reading Debbie: An Epic, amazing text that it is. “Unhappy, frugal/hope has made me dote and vainly tell/of parts obscene below the waves’ crescent/now flecking heaven’s screen with stuttered light…”. Thinking of how essential the layout of the text is. One might say particularly in this poem, but not, no, it’s particularly...

January 25, 1918, Diary of Virginia Woolf, Vol 1, ed. Anne Oliver Bell. “My Birthday. L. slid a fine cow’s horn knife into my hand this morning. Nelly has knitted me a pair of red socks which tie round the ankle, & thus just suit my state in the morning…”

That much better now that I know Art Spiegleman was the man responsible.

snowing in soho

If it’s snowing in Brooklyn, then snow’s what we’ve got…

So long, flog.

Inauguration Day. Couldn’t think of a better thing to do than hear poetry…

Susan Howe, Belladonna, CUNY, January 20th, 2005.

Well, I did read Jeanette Winterson’s Light Housekeeping, and it was a good read–a lot more satisfying than The Power Book, which–well–which wasn’t, but still not quite The Passion, or Sexing the Cherry. Though she did write those, and Written on the Body, and Oranges are not the Only Fruit (which I am currently re-reading),...

Mairead Byrne, on the difference between poetry and stand up. Zinc Bar, January 2004. http://maireadbyrne.blogspot.com/

Kazim, Marion and Shafer, 11th street bar. January 2004.