Wednesday, October 12, 2005

File 1.35

"my dreams wander the withered fields"
[...] and asked [Buson] to take the official title of the school's master. He was reluctant to do it, and was quite contemptuous of the role: "These days, those who dominate the haikai world peddle their different styles, ridicule and slander everyone else, and puff themselves up with the title of master. They flaunt their wealth, parade their ignorance, and promote themselves by arranging their students' innumerable wretched verses in anthologies.

1 Comments:

At 8:20 am, Blogger isha said...

"Later I sat at my desk, worked on my poem about the splintering of consciousness in our rootless age. The beginning goes something like this:

consciousness/splinter(ed)
This is the rootless age

I'd been having some trouble with the rest of it. The trouble maybe stemmed from its atrociousness. I booted up my laptop instead, cruised those lonely information fire roads for some leg warmer lovelies, but even my yarn harem offered no solace tonight. There was a deadness in me now."
- Sam Lipsyte, Homeland

 

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