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Bebrowed's Blog | writing about writing (and reading) | Page 2
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Writing about writing (and reading). Newer posts →. Geoffrey Hill, mysticism and Gabriel Marcel. June 28, 2014. I’m currently paying attention to. Expostulations on the Volcano. A new sequence which makes its first appearance in Hill’s Collected and it appears to contain a more direct exploration of the spiritual and mystical Hill. Mysticism covers a great multitude of beliefs and activites, previously Hill has wondered out loud about the nature of Spirit and less about the workings of Grace. I’ve ...
evilisnothing.blogspot.com
Evil Is Nothing: February 2015
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Poems and pictures - and perhaps an occasional comment. Friday, 6 February 2015. Arm brushing arm, pressure cotton skin fleet pleasure;. Roaring under notice and warmth, shining, in hair. Moving, hard ground muffled through soles. And socks; aching calves, a rhythmic mist of sound. Rising and then falling. A rhythmic fire sound rising. Sustaining a lifting and a vein of anger. Red dominating. With black; juxtapositions flap and ripple. A tickling, barely perceptible, above an ear,. Near unanimity a raise...
evilisnothing.blogspot.com
Evil Is Nothing: October 2014
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Poems and pictures - and perhaps an occasional comment. Thursday, 30 October 2014. He can't do that he doesn't know. Faint smoke being torn according to reports from. The horizon he brushes against and can't grasp. Accumulated distress and fury. Of precarious and easy smiling. She loves the rising road in a pit of a gut is a warm sun of shouting laughter. Gripping the sky and stars swarming across a cresting grinning life her palm. He is being tightened by a reactionary defensive spasm. Archive of the Now.
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Evil Is Nothing: April 2013
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Poems and pictures - and perhaps an occasional comment. Sunday, 28 April 2013. She’s taking the ludicrous. Her own lights on an obscurity. Of drives jostling for a seat. Murky as they mingle. Sunflares spitting across her. Constant changes of velocity. As the sun both rises and sets;. Now it's health. Lights flaring,. A sense of expansion through. Sunlit leaves against rich. New blue, an itch near the rectum. And a pulse in the left sole. Thursday, 11 April 2013. Wednesday, 3 April 2013. Or rather there ...
evilisnothing.blogspot.com
Evil Is Nothing: September 2012
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Poems and pictures - and perhaps an occasional comment. Friday, 28 September 2012. Thursday, 27 September 2012. Surging hot curves and falling dips falling back negotiating rural night black full beam. Staggering hairpin one in four flashing of chrome and shine head lit ‘phantom black’. Paint; midday seashine sunflash arseache . . . yawning morning motorway windblast. High speed corridor legsore boredom and anxiety lookingout for red flash; getting on summer. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Archive of the Now.
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Evil Is Nothing: August 2013
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Poems and pictures - and perhaps an occasional comment. Friday, 30 August 2013. Near unanimity a raised arm producing a space/time place swirling through. An event, gesture ordering a trajectory. Leaving, the talk is pessimistic and wind ruffles faces turned to each other or. Glancing away in overlapping twists of unease and vague reflective furrowing. Over shivering unrest anger short-sighted grumbling lengthy occasional hair's breadth. Friday, 9 August 2013. A first fragment of a new poem . . . A detec...
evilisnothing.blogspot.com
Evil Is Nothing: October 2013
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Poems and pictures - and perhaps an occasional comment. Saturday, 19 October 2013. And still more Swarms . . . Personal views relentless onslaught pain in the rush to Shakespearean complexity. Challenge will fingers slide amidst hair. It will be challenging it will be fucked up for tired feet. A solid majority fury at a coolness in glass pressing sweaty film. And realising that that radiant fluorescent shining across the surface of a plastic 30 litre. Different and will never return. H e a v ing.
evilisnothing.blogspot.com
Evil Is Nothing: April 2014
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Poems and pictures - and perhaps an occasional comment. Wednesday, 23 April 2014. Swarms . . . Hollow full of buzzing. A rising fire of noise. A clicking in an ankle. Flames of din exhilarating fingertips. Firing tongues through sinuses and armpits and bellypits. Amidst amused thousands of defiances even quiet. Walking through shifting hordes of a body. All the articulated buzzing and tides of living seething blood. I swallowed and swallowing torn in exquisite contusions. All flash and blur. Subscribe to...
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