Static from low to high, from moons to June,
What compressed liars in their manifestos stress.
Eftsoons it is noon—a day in June, a moonless moon
Called new for cigarette lycanthropes to obsess
And fester over. Binaural sound discovers the snake
Of my mind's medulla, makes each north star a moot
Muted point. No one now calls for the layer cake
Of geological sediments, though that butte's a beaut.
So earth sings sentiments sans our lips as Garbo
Laughs forlornly to cancel the curtain's play.
Layered with light from trash fires, the old century's hobo
Jungle flickers like a muscle in the face of the new day.
That is, the sun can be remembered by a rhinestone
And sex stabs the corner of your sweeter eye's cologne.
This is gonna be a loooooong post. What follows is a freely edited transcription of my notes from the Zukofsky/100 conference at Columbia t...
Thursday, September 29, 2011 Berlin. Fog of sleep deprivation coloring an otherwise perfect blue autumn day a sort of miasmic yellow i...
Elif Batuman has amplified her criticism of the discipline of creative writing (which I've written about before ) in a review-essay tha...
Trained it down to DePaul's Loop campus this morning to take part in a panel, "Why Writers Should Blog," alongside Tony Trigil...
My title is taken from the comments stream of an article recently published by The Chronicle of Higher Education , David Alpaugh's "...
Will be blogging more or less permanently now at http://www.joshua-corey.com/blog/ . Or follow me on Twitter: @joshcorey
Farewell, Barbara Guest .
In one week Lake Forest will hold its commencement and I'll take off my professor's hat for the summer. A few weeks later, in June, ...
That's one of my own lines. From an untitled (they're all untitled) severance song: After form fails a furling, reports dying away,...
Yes, Ithaca is home. Arrived yesterday evening in hallucinatory blue skies, the local climate of gentle hippies and spaced-out kids immediat...