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The world‘s foremost literary society
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File: 1745603436385.jpeg(320.93 KB, 1695x1305, screencap2398.jpeg)

 No.91[Reply]

So what is this shit?

 No.94

>>91
The best site for discussing literature online.

 No.95

>>91
The world's formost literary society

 No.98

>>91
The world's forleast literary society

 No.200

This is inside Lydia's anus.

[spoiler](Weirdly BEE hasn't appeared yet. I honestly prefer the book where he ironically includes "himself" as a character innit, but honestly instead of that I'd prefer JG Ballard to double team my cock towers with fully loaded passenger planes. Maybe later he can impact into my pentagon. Did you notice in Empire of the Sun that he wanted to be sold for sex or sold for human meat, but the chinese rejected that because he was too diseased. The Americans (played in the horrible romanticisation by John Malkevich in the film directed Spielberg, almost as bad as that other film compared to Christopher Browning or Raul Hillberg), try to sell him for meat or sex while declaring themselves pure.[/spoiler]



File: 1745404447738.jpg(139.63 KB, 782x504, Milton and Pound.jpg)

 No.29[Reply]

Who comes out on top in this dispute?

 No.33

>>29
Certainly Pound, and I will duel any man to the death who claims otherwise!

 No.48

>>33
BLASTED Pound!
The Rupi Kaur
Of London & Rome & Paris & Hailey, Idaho
(((THEY))) could not stand his brilliance
The only poet more over rated thsn T.S.Elliot (wh[o]?)
Tsarr tsumb tang chung ching

 No.53

>>33
en garde

Milton did at least make a complete poem. Pound just kinda got depressed and quit saying he 'couldn't make it cohere'

 No.59

>>53
by Someone who dreamt he was Ezra Pound

Sing not of stars, but of that which ignites them. The bearer.
Born in the mouth of the ऋच्. Breathing the dawn into being.
The wheel is not turned — it turns. Who rides it? He burns, and does not.
He sits in the core of the log, untouched, untouched.
ऋषयः called, and the void gave flame as its answer.
अग्निः.

No-self. Not a metaphor. Not a riddle. A blade.
What clings is what suffers. What names is what dies.
स्कन्धाः rise like a city in smoke and collapse just the same.
Not hollow. Not gone. Not less. But not yours.
The flame flickers once in the temple, then nothing.
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