Greg Correll
Greg Correll
- Location
- New Paltz, New York, US
- Birthday
- September 21
- Title
- Founder, Chief of Deselopy (small packages); Editor (doesthismakesense.com)
- Company
- small packages, inc.
- Bio
- I write.
MY RECENT POSTS
- hope springs
March 20, 2013 10:26AM - family
March 16, 2013 06:03PM - brain drugs
March 09, 2013 09:59AM - Lola Kaufman, Hidden Child
March 01, 2013 10:12AM - so i fired my dr.
January 23, 2013 09:42PM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “i take it all back. Tink
vets you, so ok.
Wait: who
vets Tink?
Dr.FelineGood?”
March 23, 2013 12:28PM - “A feline or three,
avatarnished,
by a
questionable icon,
unpolished,
padded
off…”
March 23, 2013 08:59AM - “You are funny, this
piece is wacky and droll at
the same time
which would
break l…”
March 21, 2013 07:55AM - “what Cranky said.”
March 20, 2013 10:22PM - “" Because light strikes
a deal with each coming night
"
~ 'Each
Coming…”
March 20, 2013 11:00AM
Greg Correll's Links
- MY LINKS
- Love Shack
- Crooked Pinky
- Walking Softly, Open Arms.
- MY LINKS
- the good line
- crossroads (EP)
- symphony of space
- you got grit?
- redaction (EP)
- eye inside
- conatus interruptus
- my father's brace
- On Mysogyny: Girls, can we talk?
- I re-solve
- I am still, among the living
- whistle in the dark
- a fable for grown-ups
- my other art
- give thanksing
- Low Affect
- writ off
- the fat of my thumb
- Left and Right, sorted out.
- We are not fossils
- Trim Tab
- Van Damme, great actor
- I Sing of Elysian OS!
- The Answer.
- Raised on barley water.
- Obama is a Confederate Spy!
- suzy says so
- on lavender hill with the bike ghouls
- New Colors
- An Open Letter
- a homely error, certainty.
- 15 books that changed my life
- Funny matters. Seriously.
- the seventh bloom
- gone, but for the grace
- Firsts, bitter, lovely and true
- MY LINKS
- how it goes
- I smell lilacs (EP)
- For Gedalya on Yom Hashoah (EP)
- the truth lies (EP)
- O'Dizzyus lost in the Wyandotte C-Store
- His Holiness at rest
- heiroglyphics
- lag time
- How to not fight on OS
- A Concordance with Livy. For R.
- MY LINKS
- Wash of Cilantro
- To Paul, who drank himself to death and died on St. Paddy's
- Deus, Redactus (EP)
- How to Face Life's Difficulties (EP)
- facing fear
- why I am the way I am
- HAXXXION channel lineup!
- to me at 17: run!
- convolutions
- kitsey (EP)
- I heart Maria (EP)
- The Right isn't wrong. They're just stuck. (EP)
- june bug boys (EP)
- MY LINKS
- runaway life, redux
- lamentation for my unfinished degree
- Dead Woman Blues
- Republican Cavity Search
- Poem: To Ramona
- Poem: Lydia the Tattooed Lady
- Shorty Dies. I Don't. (EP)
- what really happened (EP)
- Dominionist Christianity
- oops.
- We are infants in a pitiless nursery.
- sitting with Them
- beau regard prairie
- tympani heart
- pre-owned prophylactics
- Trying on White
- part man
- rare elements
- How to respond to TV commercials
- a car called a go go
- we are the helium beast
- children gone
- manly manure
- waiting for word
- My lovely daughters
- lucky boy
- I am compromised
- no one wins online fights
- do I earn your attention?
- bear it, and build
- I am dead
- we save the other boy (EP)
- wise achers (OS honesty. at last.)
- bitteroot kiss
- MY LINKS
- Karma is an uncompassionate idea
- baby gone (EP)
- runaway life
- My Nana passed, for 60 years
- Santa Claus & the Channukah Yenta at the Palm Beach Galleria
- Yo, word: the case for Zizzy
- Slumdog Millionaire is priceless.
- 25. They might as well be the hard truths.
- Be Kinder, but Sharper: an OS manifesto
- Is this heaven?
- debunking me
- the girl in the Haight, 1970
- one of one
- if her cancer wins
- Xeno at the Hotel
- Cheap! Inchheria, Fatuoucid, Exposa, Melancoch, Pregnot
- Falsifiability and the Heat Death of the Universe
- Angels in Dark Masks
- What a bullet knows.
- Read This Post or I'll Shoot This Blog!
- My father dies clean.
- a n d b r e a t h e . . .
- the funny thing about minor imperfections...
- My first kiss
- ode to her womb
- Anger makes you stupid. So marry well.
- Civilization starts with a meal.
- do i get this?
- Noah Counts
- My Dad's Playboys (EP)
- best.guitar.solo.ever.
- Gidget Meets Hercules
- My Obama Post(er)
- An African Obama Poem. I mean:wow.
- If I Am
- Soul Free
- First Names
- way to go
- Little Shit (EP)
- Bad Pants
- Movie: Babette's Feast
- MY LINKS
- small packages, inc.
- wrapIT
hope springs
I have good news at last. Just returned from cardiologist at Vassar. I will not need surgery. I have pvcs and tachycardias and spates of pre-beats and a minor buildup in my carotid, but they will monitor every three months.
Most of you know I have
… Read full post »family
I wash a different skin now, with a shaky hand. But I inhabit old memories, wipe my eyes and clear away the dust of decades, for this book. I live inside the bigger body of Remember, the body of stories I wasn't to know, told on
… Read full post »brain drugs

Awake most of the night. With newly added daily doses I am adjusting.
A euphemism for surfing through hell, for night-long cramping legs, manic energy, weak muscles, and the inability to turn off panic and guilt. My work deadlines are scythes, whistling near.
I can't squeeze myself sm
… Read full post »Lola Kaufman, Hidden Child
Lola Kaufman is my wife's mother and a survivor. This Sunday she is a featured speaker at an event in Manhattan for the 20th anniversary of the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC.
The Hidden Girl:
A True Story
of the/
so i fired my dr.
thank you
I am writing a book with my grown daughter Molly, and
because over a hundred people contributed to a writing grant
for me, we can dedicate ourselves to finishing it by the end of the
year.
It's the gift of a lifetime.
My vote about whether I deserve this or not doesn't… Read full post »
long live words

I will have an endless invisible night
and read all those books
and understand all until I am
a liquid chromium cascade of understanding.
On a sunrise river of words I fish,
not fooled by shade or previous intent,
looking for lunkers and darters alike.
For some words I bolt upright, desire,
and t/… Read full post »
I will nothing.
I'm stuck here. I saw Mt. Sinai again and now I sit, rooted, in Central Park, near the specimen tree. Bad news epoxies my ass.
I have "other kinds of interference with my dopamine production". They order a DaTscan and other
… Read full post »
When the Dems reacted to Clinton's plan for workfare it was all over the map. Doctrinaire Great Society responses, the further left called it a betrayal, but historically it was a classic "uh...uh...just a minute" by the liberal wing, and then we worked out a deal. Today work/… Read full post »
goodbye unseen and splendid
Pattern design, I owned, once upon a time.
I perfected cross-hatch and font and ornate edge,
paragraphs and thin grey lines, and color en agitante.
Perfect is gone now.
My pattern is blur and strobe and all fall down.
I will not/… Read full post »
poetry wears me like torn breeches, but I have a penknife
Why Poetry?
Because.*
_________________
* only part of me knows what I am talking about
* something enormous or quite small must be free
* this idea I was thinking about, then this opening, then I just
fell in
* I need to invent
* I don't want prose pushing me around
* fuck syntax
*/
I love writers
Contest: The Bainless Tool
In honor of Mitt "Wayback Machine" Romney and his declaration that he "retroactively retired" from Bain (this), a contest.
What would you declare untrue, re-do, or re-construe, if you had Mitt's magic slate?
The winner gets the By Willard Power Alone Temerity Certificate, along with th… Read full post »
Intake
I used to be a boy who would not walk the dog. Not like I should. This –
I'm good. No, this is...I'm fine. Can I start?
This is hard to explain, the change I made. A change of, of real, of really small parts. In a way I just finally
…
without fear
my honey'd mind goes habaneric
Did you see what's-her-face, on the news?
I dunno. Never mind. The world is too tight tonight. Too hot.
We teem, don't we?
We seem to be sightless.
Explaining and evading,
concealing and betraying.
A flourish of persuasive rhetoric here asks: How to wake up?
Try to see everythin/… Read full post »
fifty good lines
1. Fifty lines and pfft! we're done.
2. The poem that kills the brute and skins the peach.
3. Liquid light – how do I explain this? – it follows my hand across the curve of Kansas, aloft along the Falcon's rusty chassis – and my thoughts, this peyote I/
… Read full post »let's pretend
It is a great and terrible day:
my family returns.
I coil old rope. I work on new lyrics.
Interrupted:
my brothers, my sister
show up, unexpected
fists full of paper and grudges and
no: wait: they keen about something – me, their mistakes,
– or they/… Read full post »
belly letters
if you wire our gate
and board the way
I un-wire you
I remove your board
and hope for the best
shew compassion for failure
but show all carotid fears
phuck effluvia and paraphenalia
just sit with me be incandescenseless
no more wires no more boards
aphorismus contra animus
let us/… Read full post »
misplaced
pill hell
I read Found
My friend Tobe Carey, an award-winning
filmmaker (http://www.documentaryworld.com/),
recorded me reading "Found",
my piece about learning I had Parkinson's Disease.
Originally posted to Open Salon
(http://open.salon.com/blog/greg_correll/2012/01/18/found),
it has
the Bains of existence
Precision, what morality is, really, that's the issue. Not the
fable kind or magic kind or pompous, polemic, or promised kind, but
real morality.
Morality means evolving governance over our vanity, and increasing
our awareness of other's suffering. You know, human
values. Understand… Read full post »
a delirium in the undertow
Every day in every way,
I am a fearful New,
a moment-to-moment
rediscovery of uncertain Now,
and less a measured ration,
the settled-for plate of leftovers,
of all my ordinary Befores.
Who I am now is a discontinuity,
a delirium in the undertow.
I fade away, the I that/
goodbye searchlight venus in the cobalt blue
All of this,
what we share here,
comes from real human fingertips, bothering to touch keys
as our hearts keep pace: too slow, too fast;
panic and I-want-to-go and I-am-done; tidal inhalations as I
type.
I am full of thought. Then I am emptied of language itself.
Letters… Read full post »
Salon.com