skip to main | skip to sidebar

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Julius, Caesura.

I've found my place in history--it comes
with breathing room and seething room. So how,
then, plastered with enjambment (still prepared,
amenitied, sanitised) could I fail?
I request! a book, a scribe, a pen:
amanuensis, write me down. Also, in
learning from the past (for safety's sake)
all of my rivals shall be slaughtered. Hail!
Scribed Eli T. Drumm at 10/20/2007 02:10:00 AM

No comments:

Post a Comment

Newer Post Older Post Home
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Archive

  • ►  2009 (17)
    • ►  October (1)
    • ►  June (4)
    • ►  March (3)
    • ►  February (4)
    • ►  January (5)
  • ►  2008 (34)
    • ►  December (1)
    • ►  August (8)
    • ►  July (2)
    • ►  June (7)
    • ►  March (1)
    • ►  February (3)
    • ►  January (12)
  • ▼  2007 (54)
    • ►  December (4)
    • ►  November (13)
    • ▼  October (21)
      • Twelve Amps, John..
      • Twenty-Six Letters...
      • Maturation Axiom..
      • There's a Sphere Hovering Over the Arctic.
      • Why I Try to Avoid Deep Arguments These Days..
      • Flight of the Albatross.
      • Julius, Caesura.
      • Translations..
      • The Mephistophelic Manifesto..
      • 9:00 I.
      • Nuclear Smash!
      • 3:30 pm..
      • MINISTRY OF RELATIONS ADDRESSES 'ALL TAKEN' RUMOUR...
      • Wavelengths at Midnight, the height of her Hair...
      • Coreolic Fire.
      • Architecture & Furnishings..
      • Happy Birthday Sputnik; Goodnight, Moon..
      • Sixteen Dimensions..
      • What Does Prematurity Feel Like?
      • Stop deluding myself. (the nest is Guernica.)*
      • In The Meantimes..
    • ►  September (16)