outskirts of the ground war

the other day, walking out of work with a colleague, i chatted about this blog. i had just posted my previous entry "there's always war -- somewhere" and, hoping for that speed-home-to-revise insight I oftentimes receive in conversation with this colleague, felt the need to rehearse its dangling metaphors.

uninterested in such a grammatical quirk, my colleague blurted:

"patti smith is everywhere these days,"

adding, with equal enthusiasm:

"I think it's because of your blog!"

an ample dose of modesty and a self-induced, sharp pinch successfully subordinated my wish about the latter to the accuracy of the former.

everywhere, ps is, it does seem so; even though her name isn't always mentioned, public chatter on punk or lower e-side poetry or artsy avant-garde reference her.

everywhere, ps is, fading in and out between lines, before first draw, after final movement, an avatar (straggling cur) marking terrain of a 30-years' war we might forget we were fighting (us exiles from Family Circle perched in camouflage dugouts west of hudson, waiting to dispatch en masse, following cur),

still fighting:

culture of men, by men, for men.

70's refs on New York Times arts' section front pages last week --
poez reincarnates a pioneer who gets the girl,
Rudolf Stingel markets others art his art,
Joy Division's mythic post-punk, post-industrial dystopicult.

ps in situ: no divertissement fad man; she plays for keeps.

in other words, the blog's because everywhere, ps is.