RodCast #1
Posted: February 18th, 2006, 11:38 am
I liked it clay. We walk into a room and turn a switch and a light comes on. Fuking magic if you ask me. This little silicon pal of mine, a thaumaturgical extension of my nervous system that sucks words out of my brain donw my spinal chord and out my fingers.
This piece was pain stakingly crafted I hope you appreaciate the endless hours I have slaved on it. Plath was that kind of writer. But towards the end of her life
"The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it. ... '