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Swinging Down Under

Awesome Australian lit journal Going Down Swinging recently had this to say about me:
There is something about Anis Mojgani that makes you like him as soon as he starts talking….Partly you’ll like him because he has a voice like your grandmother’s nice old leather bag”

Not sure how true it is that one will like me as soon as I start talking, because most of the time I feel I talk too much to be liked by anyone who still possesses working ears. But still it is very kind of them to write it here on their website, along with a number of other very kind sentences to follow, as well as a link to the recording I sent them of TODAY’s LOVE IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE LETTER JON SANDS––my poem about biscuits, possums, and the shoulders of my wife, which they saw fit to include in their most recent issue, #35. The issue is available here and the recording available below.

What I want right now, except in the woods of the NW, maybe the NE.

(via ajoreilly)

William Stafford.

William Stafford.

This morning KUTX’s Susan Castle played the above song in remembrance. Were that it was every day it was played on on some radio somewhere, but not in remembrance of anything except remembering the many times your brother and you watched this movie and this song over and over again.

All the light all the light all the light. May at least some of it, even with its rough edges, come upon us all, you & I.

All the light all the light all the light. May at least some of it, even with its rough edges, come upon us all, you & I.

Where I wish to be.

(via myshoesuntied)


I do not know how to do this

To put it simply: I cried. We poets always leave those things out
and focus on the birds at the feeder, as if they could tell us anything, ever.
From Poem for the Novelist Whom I Forced to Write a Poem by Daniel Nester (via hush-syrup)

(via writebloody)

Look, I’m going to interrupt you: There are two ways to think about this existence we have. One of them is that it’s Wednesday and it’s three fifteen and we’re talking here in my home, and at four o’clock I have to leave for another meeting. Now, that’s a reality. But there’s another reality. We’re in the solar system of a second-rate star, three quarters of the way out on a spiral arm of an average galaxy in a thing called the Local Group. And ours is only one of billions of galaxies, each of which has billions of stars. Some star systems are binary, and there could be a planet that revolves around a center of gravity between two binary stars. So you’d have two sunrises and two sunsets every day. One could be a red giant, the other a white dwarf; two different-sized, -shaped and -colored suns in the sky. And there might be other planets and comets. In other words, fuck Wednesday, fuck three fifteen, fuck four o’clock, fuck the United States, fuck the earth. It’s all temporal bullshit. I like thinking about being out there and not thinking about the corporate structure, not worrying about freedom and not worrying about guns. I chose a life of ideas. That entertains me. That nourishes me. And that’s why I run from this conversation.
— George Carlin, The Playboy Interview (via anniewilkins)