Goats
the unheard-of sailing
beautifully at least are you, and you,
and we, even me, as we bow to the Muse,
from silence, to work, to make music.
for far more by you and her tresses of blue
shall we speak freely and fluently flow
round her sea-song, along, on the leaf,
of what sort me and you happen to be
being, she sings and she whispers it slow,
an unheard-of sailing, through the distance.
but just now, were becalmed, were in irons.
which turn of the tide or twist of a rope,
which way of the wind, from Delos the boat,
by teeth of a goat on his own green grass,
how would we, under grey, manifesto for you
the impasse, the power, all her own.
cause shes full of it too. kompsos
like the chomp on her bridal-white jib
of a child, crocodile, laughing.
καλῶς γε σύ
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
ποιῶν
μᾶλλον γάρ σοι
παρρησιάσομαι
περὶ τῆς ἐπῳδῆς
οἵα τυγχάνει οὖσα
ἄρτι δ᾽
ἠπόρουν τίνι τρόπῳ
σοι ἐνδειξαίμην
τὴν δύναμιν αὐτῆς
156α
cf Phaedo 99ξ-δ
it was the goat
who said
on beautys child speaking
placing under by the other
to be taken hold with care
lest over and against a lion
of that coming-going fawn
be seized a dividing spare
this cut of me would be
a kings delight to see
the first to meet us whole
for it seems to me itself
under such a creature
as we — i bleat — is caught
ὃς εἶπεν
ἐπὶ καλοῦ λέγων παιδός
ἄλλῳ ὑποτιθέμενος
εὐλαβεῖσθαι
μὴ κατέναντα λέοντος
νεβρὸν ἐλθόντα
μοῖραν αἱρεῖσθαι
κρεῶν
αὐτὸς γάρ μοι ἐδόκουν
ὑπὸ τοῦ τοιούτου
θρέμματος
ἑαλωκέναι
Charmides 155δ
cf Phaedo 61β
our wordless moment
and after the showing
of Critias that i
would(suffer)be(ing)(it)he
knowing the pharmakon
and it(you) would look right into my eyes(is)(isis)
a sort of helplessness(amechanon)
and it(you were) leading up as(if) will(ing love to) ask
(would you be here forever
i am already here
were this my nature)
ἐπειδὴ δέ φράσαντος
τοῦ Κριτίου ὅτι ἐγὼ
εἴην ὁ
τὸ φάρμακον ἐπιστάμενος
ἐνέβλεψέν τέ μοι τοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς
ἀμήχανόν τι οἷον
καὶ ἀνήγετο ὡς ἐρωτήσων
155ξ
what drives me
toward (you)there
nevertheless
O beloved
i — already (pleasure-
mermaids)was at(they
were)an impasse
indeed my previously-
(delivering she)recklessness
had been knocked out
witch(her)(i-
was)(they had
been)having(and holding back) — i
as if altogether easily
by itself (what nerve)
will dialogue
(drives me insane
i do try sometimes not
to interrupt)
ἐνταῦθα
μέντοι
ὦ φίλε
ἐγὼ
ἤδη
ἠπόρουν
καί μου ἡ πρόσθεν
θρασύτης
ἐξεκέκοπτο
ἣν
εἶχον
ἐγὼ
ὡς πάνυ ῥᾳδίως
αὐτῷ
διαλεξόμενος
155ξ
for setting practice
who
(going)(coming)
between
me
and Critias
sits down
ὁ
δ᾽ ἐλθὼν
μεταξὺ
ἐμοῦ τε καὶ
τοῦ Κριτίου
ἐκαθέζετο
cf Phaedo 67δ
my dawnlit daybreaker
there beside himself he would sit
until (their own) (dawn)
of the (ones) seated at the eschaton
the (one we) raise up
the horizon (we) throw down
ἵνα παρ᾽ αὑτῷ καθέζοιτο
ἕως
τῶν ἐπ᾽ ἐσχάτῳ καθημένων
τὸν μὲν ἀνεστήσαμεν
τὸν δὲ πλάγιον κατεβάλομεν
his own death
πρὸς οὖν ἐμὲ ὁ Κριτίας
Ἔναγχός τοι
ἔφη
βαρύνεσθαί
τι τὴν κεφαλὴν
ἕωθεν
ἀνιστάμενος
ἀλλὰ τί σε κωλύει
προσποιήσασθαι
πρὸς αὐτὸν
ἐπίστασθαί
τι κεφαλῆς φάρμακον
nothing
(they are)(it was)i was(saying)
Critias calls
to the follower
and at once to the follower — Child
he was saying
(beauty)call(and
always be calling)
Charmides
καὶ ἅμα πρὸς τὸν ἀκόλουθον Παῖ
ἔφη
κάλει
Χαρμίδην
to the graveyard woman (who keeps his kid) (goat)
saying that i wish
(with)by the doctor
(you)to put it(self) together
(around)about the (she)weakness
of which before
(it)was telling(laying) me
that (it)(you)(are)weak
εἰπὼν ὅτι βούλομαι αὐτὸν
ἰατρῷ
συστῆσαι
περὶ τῆς ἀσθενείας
ἧς πρῴην
πρός με ἔλεγεν
ὅτι ἀσθενοῖ
and the blanket on his bed (small print re: freckles)
guess im on vacation yall
being told nothing
the valley out
dont forget to use sun protection
get your skin check
at the dermatolologist
sh(weakness)
🌕 x 3
visit to a Javanese grave
bringing flowers in the grey of morning
we walk from the village to the graveyard
to pray and listen for our hidden father
the unmarked kijing crowd uneven paths
the buckled beds are bristling with grass
and creeping weeds and blossoming shrubbery
and overseen by shaggy jepun trees
their twisted bodies cross at knotted joints
their mask of all the seasons all at once
damp after rain the mud sticks to my feet
and sandals i rinse off before we leave
so other ghosts unclaimed wont follow me
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
for those (lovers / erastes) praise
aside from whats best
the things said
and the things done
// 233α
ἐκεῖνοι μὲν γὰρ καὶ παρὰ τὸ βέλτιστον τά τε λεγόμενα καὶ τὰ πραττόμενα ἐπαινοῦσιν
//
tonight is an engagement ceremony
its one more meeting of families to go
before tomorrow we return to Bali
and one more time with the toilet jongkok
splashing water up from underneath
with the gayung from the bak mandi
while listening to the two goats bleat
kept there by the neighbors
who live out back
//
what belongs to the goat (a love poem)
i dreamed she burned her poetry about me
made me a bonfire of the unseen i dreamed
she shaved me off her razor-scrivened legs
my bush sun-drowning its all good it was
the ribboned iris of a rabbis rose
of exodus the sandstorms seeing red
the aftercare for summer love but god
my creatured limbs are bristling with your fur
//
thremmata
corpse pose again, is it for real this time, as i
down to the underworld for Hades lower table
descend, the darker cloud of somebodys forever
to a banquet feast of charred fat strewn with ashes
i sit before the offering of my own left shin
my tender bone is bowing its familiar flaw
my meat is dripping ratios from the burning violin
i eat it all, although my name is not Issa
as eat the dead, by whispers, one million and seven
then i look down to find beast-legs with chestnut hair
my knuckled shanks uncrossed, my hooves are lightning-cloven
my kept creature walks on two or four, tall-horned
whose crescent shavings will be ground into the rock
whose name is leaving many by the blade of one
//
and the rod
Black Ajax bitter on my left
Red Ajax blooded on my right
grim speechless my bronze-armored kin
by serpent held Asclepian
//
new years 2026
i witness your erosion through the glass
my history disappearing by the hour
and snow consumes to whiteout; i am cold
turned witless by distance and disbelief
and there are no more familiar houses, faces
are spreading, thinning, greying, pale, the young
mere vanishing into the adult flood, like
we didn’t want any of it
the cruiseliner is sinking into sand
nobody made the call, nevertheless
it’s all you ever say; whoever has a camel
hard fast to roll the tents and carry it
how do you chase your longing through the dunes
and did her caravan leave any trace
or do you doubt if she was ever there
or do you see her in the doe, the goat, the raven
do you become her in the cursive carved
by thirst, the desert bridegroom winding through
until you haunt the edges of their encampment
inhuman as the hajj, kin to al-Shanfara
locals popping-off begin at dusk
explosions quickening unevenly
as child-sized rockets into midnight, when at once
fireworks engulf the island, terrifying animals
i turn a light on for the chickens
Black Ajax has fallen out of his black tree
he gibbers darkly as he hobbles toward me
the light, a blacker perch; gibbering, i walk him through it
//
selamat tahun baru🥂
//
our chickens are
most junglefowl
we don’t fight them
as, with cocks, is done
but they are fighters
//
semi-nude for a photo album
their birthday was the other night
the girls were going out; the grift
delayed by getting ready; gift
of tangled, sappy rattan; caused a fright
pan, she burned some flowers on you
meta-burban, real dream for two
polaroid tacky, pantries full
of shady tatters, curtain bulls
sister, it was no dress for winter
but they were grown enough to drink
something fancy from the blender
fermented guava, lava lake
lavender flannel, camisole
white linen sheets, hung in the sun
nigel and sandi, mel and sue
genre-bender, Java won
high horse, he has a song for you
but i’ll save it for another tone
her sweaty practice, overdue
vinyasa, tapas, organ brew
dizzy lizzy ate some rice
eat, pray, love, the antichrist
jihadi, mum’s worst nightmare
Gandhi, papa’s burnt-off limb
inter-dimensional makeout queen
Osaka airport, caused a scene
village gossip, words above
she’s never catching up on love
not quite posh, but pulp turned through
realism, my lands, god knew
so sliced the flippin' longitude
bless her heart and come on in
agrimony henbane dish
too-schooled harpy hysterical
raised pie of huckleberry fish
turned river-liver radical
there’s mantra in the air tonight
what kue set in sangga stone
rise with the moon, the howling dog
the crone, her voice memorial
white-footed goat is coming home
to graze by fiery sunset view
the desert camel, bringing bones
with mother Durga, chest tattoo
a secret pocket of soil and spice
elaborate belty-thing, rhizomes in knots
not big enough for where you think
whether it is cake
//
(wants cake)
//
texas talkin blues, like this
vernacular from full moon 5/11
genius loci, pura dalem
blog 2-yr anniverse & job well done
//
his very subtlety
i brought my heart to work today—
a careful accident. i wrote
a note for you, pretending not
to show you who i am: bearded
angel, or boy turned upside-down;
chain-yanker or lonely-for-fruit;
the groaning king, his blessèd wreath;
a golden mule, the kiss of death;
soft bosom of the empress, red
from solar radiation; or
caress of thigh, giver of bread;
this image— you, unlimited.
//
🌒
How many a desert plain, wind-swept,
like the surface of a shield,
empty, impenetrable,
have I cut through on foot,
Joining the near end to the far,
then looking out from a summit,
crouching sometimes,
then standing,
While mountain goats, flint-yellow,
graze around me,
meandering like maidens
draped in flowing shawls.
They become still in the setting sun,
around me, as if I were a white-foot,
bound for the high mountain meadow,
tall-horned.
Excerpt from “The Arabian Ode in ‘L’” (Lamiyyat al-Arab), attrib. Al-Shanfarā (may Allah have mercy on him), translated by Michael A. Sells (may Allah have mercy on him) in his volume Desert Tracings.
These are the final lines of the poem and the ones most explicitly referenced by this, but of course, excerpts don’t do it justice; 64 stanzas writhing snake-like through spirits of the desert as purest distillation of outlaw’s heart. Earlier stanzas can be found here. It seems appropriate that only traces of this poem should appear online.
Al-Shanfarā is a terrible dust devil, burning himself alive. Legendary antihero, desolation and exile ensconced in the premonition of paradise. dizzying!
as if i were a whitefoot
nameless, the gentle landscape chose
pointlost, ungiven, brutishly
endbringer to deadset hunger,
rudeness riverrun to mercy.
grim gravelshatterer, sparking flint
to be action or scenery—
object of disbelief, the ground
to goat a hesitating hoof—
or clamp too-trustingshank, object
of appetite. salivaspills
from ruthless gum of animal,
rankcivil tooth of shackledmilk;
but snarlingword, infant of dust
absent a motherverse, is howl
heartletting keen of lucid sacrifice.
come drink from me, Al-Shanfarā—
she desertlimns greydreaded; trim
your distance, wolves. the veil of thirst
is inhuman as ocean, burns
your hornsgolden by bending sun.
//
(reply to Shanfara’s Lamiyyat al-Arab, trans. by Michael A. Sells in Desert Tracings.)
telescopic texts (avec “?”) (7/x)
suppose a parable is just like her —
desired and defiled in equal measure.
his chivalry requires a blushing knight
to guard the word, who is incarnate treasure.
i heard of one such rescuer of women.
who, for his lovely sin, was de-mountained
by crippled foot, and fated never nimbly
to climb again. but faith in constancy
makes deliberate gifts, arms built from hours
spent torquing tongs before roaring earth-core.
therefore, no purity of heart is borne
that lacks an alloy in the sooty forge.
thou shalt not fear the courage of your virgin
is the limping gist of this comparison —
her shining is at once translucent bloom
and armor’s lustre, welded by humble Vulcan.
//
p.s., and yes — to service chthonic Muse,
Hephaestus becomes god of cunnilingus.