Friday, August 19, 2016



Wires and Lights
Arlo Quint

ISBN 13: 978-0-9843468-1-3

 91 pages, cover and interior art by KB Jones

 $15

Sunday, December 27, 2009




Mum Halo
John Coletti

ISBN 13: 978-0-9843468-0-6

102 pages, cover and interior art by Zachary Wollard

$15
$12 with free shipping





Monday, October 16, 2006

Crets Crets Crets
by Mike Hauser




Printed in an edition of 200. 26 handbound and lettered A-Z
Cover by Will Yackulic
$7






or send a check:

Dustin Williamson
193 18th Street
Brooklyn, NY 11215

rustbuckle@gmail.com
---

Blog Days


1965:
what an odd year to start a blog!

my main competitors even then
were the Beatles, Stones et al.

I timed my blog
not to coincide with them

Walter Cronkite from Channel 10
was like 'What all dat shit fr?'

He kissed me on the mouth
It was a man-kiss

I logged off and
heard 'the steam pipe knock
like a metal heart'

Blog Days were ending

small fires in our midst

this represented
intentional mystification

this came to dominate
the public perception of blogging:

a little honey, a little newsprint
a little concrete poetry in your eye

John Hollander's Easter poem
with its wing formation
is what blew everyone away

it was like a terrorist blast of formal innovation

to me and my friends
blogging was always just about
representing
and hanging out

four turkeys, Tuscaloosa, y'know...

by Fall we were all Cannery Row
real Fruit Bat

desperate for exposure
for real examples
to upend our doubt

we wanted organic blogging
the kind one cultivates

on farms, in nursery homes
around the corner from where ever

walkin’ the dog
in the parlance of those days
my friend Nate Nutteroo
showed me Rufus Thomas’ amazing
amazing work Tjanting!

we kept ourselves busy
baking fudge for the homeless
reading passages of Whitman

always listening for blogs in the eaves

but

discovered wing formations in ourselves

thought a little on what it meant
to have the meat (per se) of the blog
linked to Wikkiisms

so

stopped aesthetic back taxing

at a party John Hollander told me
to go fuck myself

that felt weird

I was disinvited to his Memorial Reading
by a coked-up Galway

Dick Howard and me went to this gas station

they had these awesome 'Basic Italian' sandwiches
and Cran-Okra Faygo

(man cocks head tenderly
looks toward Casablanca-ceiling-fan, sighs)

We slept in each others arms that night

That whole summer changed us

we learned alot about blogging
about temperament and restraint

Dick, google me