Taking a break from socials until I get back to the US to keep myself from fragmenting. Love to you all, and to the poems that wait to write you. 🖤

Notebooks with blue and the light of Aix. I don’t know why I’m here. Or where I should be. Or what being means.

a person puts on special trousers (‘buxur’) to plan a special thing like find the self and kill it like skate past poets arrogant in their overflow stop! I like the ones who stop hellish jungle indeed and finally I say okay you try ‘Smile’, a poem by Anne Carson. www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v4...

life on the walls and turrets of Chateau Tarnac — a taste of a ruin cut short by the plaints of les teens

French post office telling me that postcards might not make it to the US given Trump policies— but I bought €60 worth of stamps anyway, and we will see what happens. PS Trump is a shithead.

🖤

Mono in a heat wave is a uniquely desubjectifying experience. Like floating over language.

Had to close my DMs because I owe so many of you a reply. Please forgive me. I reopened them. But I’m not really getting wifi out here? Tis wonky.

Delerm’s version of this song has been looping in my head. youtu.be/gJpgVNVPXyo?...

The Summer Issue of Cable Street is now live! Great work by @uhume.bsky.social • @alinaetc.bsky.social • @janinalapapita.bsky.social • @stridermarcusjones.bsky.social and many more! cablestreet.org

Aix palette for poem on chaleur.

Aix in the heat — with a cicada shell in my hair. :)

HE: I thought you didn’t care about sports. ME: I care about storming things though. HE: How is that r— ME: Look, I just want to party.

Fuck it. Make the fireworks even louder. The best way to lose is by enjoying the after party to spite the game.

Absolute fact. And that’s the real “American exceptionalism”: we are the spoiled, miserable brats who think the rules don’t apply to us. We are exceptional at that.

Being a good sport is important of course — but not tonight! The urge to storm things has arrived!!! - Me to the teens just now

Putain merrrrrrde

France, please pick this game up pronto

bloodsport and horror in the swirling shadows of the tormented past is tomorrow, friends, you'll get your match

Blackberries beaches and Racine.

Dear humans who DM’ed your mailing addresses, I made a little address book for this project and your name is in it. I have been making yr postcards collage-style from old magazines found in France. Soon I will be getting writing and railing them. Thank you for trusting me. 🫶

Bowed to the Massif du Cheiron and then met some Cretan pincushions whose lavender blooms had fallen, leaving only the exquisite, calyx-like fructifications which begged to sit near a bowl of apricots after the sun set. Happy July to all who celebrate. 🖤 youtu.be/VFl-1cYQWa4?...

I ‘went back’ (was table host at last gala) because Dinaw asked. He was trying to chart a new course. Most dissenting writers had always wanted dialogue, even when the outgoing director and some board members tried to smear us. Now I’m following him and hope to be part of something new

what Dinaw Mengestu said, yes. 💯

Last night in Honfleur.

Of the six of us traveling together, everyone now has mono— except for the son. 🫠 If my brain wasn’t such porridge I would salute the world’s virologists and encourage them to find antivirals for this brilliant virus.

Great thread from Matt.

My heart hurts for Nolan Well’s mother 💔 www.pbs.org/newshour/nat...

Yport with lots of wind, seagulls, and Lynne Tillman.

The best recording of V’s Opus 30 🖤 youtu.be/PmlFgKPHq2A?...

Found a series of old Westerman magazines from 1969 in a little free library in Honfleur and this lovely portrait of Paul Klee was among them.

J'ai dépensé ma jeunesse comme une poignée de monnaie J'ai fait un peu de tout, un peu partout, sans savoir rien faire La fleur aux dents, c'était tout ce que j'avais Mais je savais bien que toutes les femmes du monde m'attendaient

🫶 youtu.be/U7iIP8Gc3OY?...

the shadow puppets were insufficient

I finally got around to seeing Amy Berg’s “It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley.” what an amazing embodiment of grace he was/is, makes me believe that all of us need to burn in/through the fire of (a) psychotic breakdown(s) “songs just come out of poems and sometimes poems come out of dreams.”

J'me pleins, j'me pleins, j'me pleins, mais dans l'fond J'aime bien ça Je l'aime, je l'aime cette belle putain de vie

Micah. With her permission. In Normandy. 🖤

Non esiste l'amor È soltanto una favola Inventata da te Per burlarti di me youtu.be/pTIvoHCrw6c?...

Of Sofi Stambo’s wickedly wonderful Bulgarianismo. 🖤 www.epiphanymagazine.org/features/sof...

Me tino and Micah

Good morning from lemon and Biolay! The teens have absconded!! Long live the teens wandering the streets of Paris! 😆🫶

Jeff! Fancy meeting you over an ocean!

Me at the airport v my middle child and her love at the airport 🥹

Celebrating this for every single furred mammal whose senses are tortured by fireworks. May it rain on our parades! May Trump’s toupee look like a wet rat on his bunion-shaped head hallelujah hocus pocus amen!

Happy birthday, Franz Kafka. This is the tattoo I got while I was in Prague. It's a Franz quote inside one of his drawings.