Where's that title from?









Altarwise by Owl-Light

I.

Altarwise by owl-light in the half-way house
The gentleman lay graveward with his furies;
Abaddon in the hangnail cracked from Adam,
And, from his fork, a dog among the fairies,
The atlas-eater with a jaw for news,
Bit out the mandrake with to-morrow's scream.
Then, penny-eyed, that gentleman of wounds,
Old cock from nowheres and the heaven's egg,
With bones unbuttoned to the half-way winds,
Hatched from the windy salvage on one leg,
Scraped at my cradle in a walking word
That night of time under the Christward shelter:
I am the long world's gentleman, he said,
And share my bed with Capricorn and Cancer.



-- Dylan Thomas

23 September 2007

Bullsh*ts-With-Wolves

The other day, I heard a very repulsive commercial on the radio. (Actually, I find pretty much all of radio repulsive, but this especially.) The argument was essentially as follows:

1. When we play, we are returned to a state of simplicity and innocence that is closer to nature, and we are thus psychologically refreshed.

2. Native Americans are closer to nature.

3. Therefore, gambling -- or "playing" -- in Native-American-owned casinos in upper Michigan is the best way to return to this natural state.

I kid you not; this is a real commercial. Actual human beings think it is all right to say this.

If any of you poets out there are wondering why you should keep at it --- well, here's a reason: to put some true words out there in the world to counter this sh*t.
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