blood a necklace on me all my life |
from The Collected Works of Billy the Kidby Michael Ondaatje
MMMMMMMM mm thinkingmoving across the world on horsesbody split at the edge of their necksneck sweat eating at my jeansmoving across the w... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Tue, 08 Jan 2008 06:17:00 PST |
Double Game |
currently reading/seeing/following:
Double Game, by Sophie Calle"Part I: Monday orange: carrots, cantaloupe, boiled shrimp. Tuesday red: tomatoes, persimmons, steak tartare.Whole days would be spent ... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Mon, 31 Dec 2007 11:12:00 PST |
the sight of my ears |
listen:
http://www.onlyrevolutions.com/
(volume and attention required) || (how could i not know there was audio available?)... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Thu, 03 Jan 2008 01:39:00 PST |
Issue Two Release |
WHAT: Vulcan: a literary dis-allusion Issue Two Release
FEATURING: Art & Lit from Beau Costa . Chris Roswell . Paul SolisScott Schiedly. Omar Zahzah. Chris Menezes Billy Han . Gerald Locklin . Pa... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Mon, 22 Oct 2007 11:01:00 PST |
Zhang Huan: at the end of an hour |
from New York Times, September 7, 2007"Chinese Art, in One Man's Translation"By HOLLAND COTTERPublished: September 7, 2007
Asia Society, "Fresh Open Buddha Hand" (2007).
When the exhibition "Insi... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Mon, 31 Dec 2007 10:58:00 PST |
today, that red memory will spill out from inside you and flood this valley con coraje |
From Heroes and Saintsby Cherrie Moraga
"Put your hand inside my wound. Inside the valley of my wound, there is a people. A miracle people. In this pueblito where the valley people live, the river run... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Sat, 03 Nov 2007 10:36:00 PST |
My mind moves in more than one place. |
The Far FieldTheodore Roethke
I
I dream of journeys repeatedly:Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnelOf driving alone, without luggage, out a long peninsula,The road lined with snow-... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Wed, 24 Oct 2007 11:13:00 PST |
dear god, i am so in love |
{listen to} Emilie Simon: fleur de saison
... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Tue, 21 Aug 2007 10:08:00 PST |
ashes of the late world |
from The Roadby Cormac McCarthy
He was a long time going to sleep. After a while he turned and looked at the man. His face in the small light streaked with black from the rain like some old wor... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Tue, 21 Aug 2007 09:07:00 PST |
como pajaritos en el aire |
from The Silver Cloud Cafe
by Alfredo Vea
They never knew that they would all vanish interstate, leaving behind powerless, jobless heirs who would someday divide up the Mission District and the... Posted by vulcan//a+literary-[dis]allu.sion on Fri, 27 Jul 2007 07:58:00 PST |