Three times must the wheel of blindness
turn, before I look without fear at the power
sleeping in my own hand…
— Czeslaw Milosz, “Slow River”
I am not only writing and revising furiously as I look at the hour glass and see the bottom half mostly filled, I just finished all of Glück, a hefty and intoxicating draft. And now Czeslaw Mikosz’ New and Colletected, all 700 and some pages. I hope at my age I make it out the other side to get back to a close reread of Robinson Jeffers’ hefty Selected, because I am a glutton for punishment to delight de Sade who willingly suffered a month of Pound in a monkish cell I selected myself so I could step out to smoke and not burn down the 700-year old, tinder-dry converted barn with intermittent hot water behind a medieval castle.
Alexis Zorba: [speaking to Basil] Do you know how old I am? Ah, never mind, that’s a secret. But I… have got to go fast. You know, they.. they say that age kills the fire inside of a man. That he hears death coming. He opens the door, says, “Come in. Give me rest.” That is a pack of God damned lies. I’ve got enough fight in me to.. to devour the world! So… I fight!
I have got to go fast
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Trampoline, Unlikely Stories, Peauxdunque Review, LMNL Anthology, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 
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