the platitudes of willful resemblance

Josephine Baker and Allen Ginsberg share a birthday (born twenty years apart) today. It is easier for me to have two people I admire have the same birthday and I could only wish that all my friends shared a birthday on Christmas and that I was not born on Christmas, not to be difficult but I would like my own day once in a while.

the Scottish poet, scientist and much more, G.F. Dutton died on Monday 31 May.

He wrote austerely passionate poems which search and illuminate the world about us. They are as much explorations as his notable scientific work: both draw on one continuous spectrum of experience.

The above is an excerpt from wonderfully written obituary which can be found at bloodaxe books.

when we know that there were no more deaths during Memorial Weekend (US Holiday) I will complete the work that is my reaction which is not the poem that follows.

LIT MAGS

being rejected by the highbrow
lit mags is good for me.
helps remind me who I am.
where I am from.
which most certainly is not in the
posh offices of the new yorker or a
public space.
I submit to them now just to
be an ass, I imagine that some
poor schmuck sits there and has
the job of reading the unsolicited submissions
only to send out the kindest regards of the
editors. So, I send what I think is good
but I know will never make the mag.
my exercise in futility, I do
this instead of going to church.
the beer I drink tonight is for that
poor schmuck that I am going to
submit the ingredients of cracker jack to
tomorrow.

this is the part of life that gets
me hard in the morning.

 – Hoc Scripsi