Saturday, December 20, 2008

Conceptual Writing vs. Keats


To Land O’ Lakes® Country Morning® Blend (Sticks)


Compos’d of milk and liquid soybean oil,
Eleven total grams of fat hast thou
Per single serving; in thy sheath of foil
Thou liest in a half-cup stick no cow
Did ever from its udder’s teats extrude,
Encourag’d by some dairy wench’s hand;
But rather in a fact’ry wert thou press’d,
So thou might lend thy savour to that food
Which else would be exceptionally bland;
Or moisten brittle cates as dry as sand,
That no breakfasting diners be distress’d.


Who hath not seen thee offer’d at the store?
Sometimes whoever shops in one may find
Thee near the butter--butter which of yore
Did grace our palates in the selfsame kind,
Till we were taught to fear cholesterol,
And turned to thee in hopes that thou wouldst yield
A fit repast: in texture butter’s twin,
With taste as sweet, for nourishment as whole;
Whether thou com’st in cubes or plastic tin,
In all respects to butter art thou kin,
Save that of butter’s vices thou art heal’d.


What of thy savage maid, with braided hair?
Chastely she kneels, like Pocahontas clad,
Displaying thee before her bosom fair,
Her countenance aglow, as she were glad:
And glad she may be, for in holding thee
She holds a smaller image of herself,
An image that in turn holds thee again,
And so on into vast infinity:
Repeated thus, although her frail form wane,
It never may from life be wholly ta’en;
In that regress forever lives this elf.



Lacey Hunter said...

It seems to me that Flarf might have to step it up a bit. The Conceptual side is putting up a good fight!

Gary said...

Oh, I dunno, I think both Flarf and Conceptual are being creamed by Keats in this round.

Nada said...

Are not our lowing Flarfists sleeker than night-swollen Conceptualists?

This is glorious.

LM Rivera said...

Does this mean Flarfists are the new Romantics?

Lacey Hunter said...

I take it back.

Flarf is almighty!

(I should learn to read before leaving comments.) Eeek.

Nada said...

In all seriousness, I think, Lucas, I would say yes. That's been my argument even before flarf.

shanna said...

Like buttah, baby!

Sharon Mesmer said...

I think "Creamed by Keats" will be the title of my next book. Or maybe "Crifter," which is the word verification I need to type to post this. What a day for poetry!

phaneronoemikon said...

I spied a cheese wheel
rising on the rise
and saw that my own form
was like a cheddar thigh

i chattered ill
like mozarella
like sun aloft
or mozart umbrella

a photon is a yellow curd

a bird-like doggy
a pavonine whirrr

a ruck and ruskin
come arolling cheesily
and on young skin
my buttery tongue
goes easily

I speid a cheese wheel
whose will be done
its whill a whipped
or carved cheese run

cheese is also a drug!


brian a j salchert said...

Nutrition Facts


Henry Gould said...


Full many a weekend have I wandered there,
betwixt the stainless steel'd, flourescent aisles,
in search of her, whose raven-tress'd hair
graces the boxtop - whose unending smiles
recede to the horizon... Siren, Circe,
she draws me, blindly, toward her frozen Snacks!
And if I were not handcuffed to this cart
by prudent sailors of the Super-Max,
no discount of the advertiser's art
could e'er distract my saturated heart
from melting... - her sweet butter-box - my hearse!

Aaron Apps said...

Ha. Awesome.
And, butter goes best on chicken and waffles…

Joe Safdie said...

So as it happens, I too have been doing some research in this recently discovered trove of Keats manuscripts (and if this is Flarf, I want a written apology from every member of the collective!)

When I Have Fears

When I have fears that I may cease to buy
Before my card has reached its limit
Before high-piled boxes, with fancy ties
Hold like rich garners my goods illicit;
When I behold, upon my screen's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy products I can't afford,
And think that I may never live to trace
My friend's name on their signature board;
And when I feel, fair I-Pod of the hour!
That I'll never again hear your shuffles
Never take sips of my whiskey sour
While wearing that silk dress with the ruffles;
Then I stand and wait and say "whatever"
'Till these sad thoughts change to something clever.

(By the way, anyone know a good HTML indent code?)

brian a j salchert said...

to Joe:

(no backspace)
but you have to use it for each space--you know,
five spaces in requires

but search
ASCII lookup tables

Keats says your poem rocks.