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Tag Archives: Sam Rasnake
– for Claude Smith, Quang Tri Province A soldier in dripping poncho, he could be nineteen, holds his helmet like a cracked skull – destined for the cedar chest’s family album, oceans away, seems a perfect view of war except … Continue reading
– for Tony Clifton And so we believe in comedy, in a perfectly timed glass of water that breaks us down to acceptance, that washes down all hesitation, and listen for the Here I come to save the day but … Continue reading
I remember the tremble in his voice. A coal miner, he spoke of mountains. Dust was his language. He gave me all his stories. A coal miner, he spoke of mountains. He never liked the darkness. He gave me all … Continue reading
Reading Donald Barthelme – questions raised by its own (temporary) existence, which ends when the page is turned – is like sitting on a porch, drinking dark roasted coffee early in the morning, listening to a recording of Samuel Beckett … Continue reading
“No obstinacy, ad absurdum, of hiding the coition through a glass pane” – Marcel Duchamp There are no tapestries here, no weaving, no nights spent undoing empires worth saving We are glass & tubes & gears that grind the wheels … Continue reading
The wish for sprawls of field so deep, so white the eyes must turn away, a need for something more than sun for shards of ice on creek rock, for smoke rising, for thin chatters of birds an aching for … Continue reading