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"A note to Pound in heaven: Only one mistake, Ezra! You should have talked to women"
--George Oppen, _Twenty Six Fragments_
Archives:
xoxo Hey, E-Mail Me! xoxo
ManY PoETiKaL HaTs LisT:
Michael Helsem's Gray Wyvern NOLA Fedora.
Duchamp's Rrose Selavy's flirting hat.
Max Ernst's Hats of The Hat Makes the Man.
Jordan Davis' The Hat!
poetry. hks' smelly head baseball cap.
Samuel Beckett's Lucky's
Black bowler hat,
giving his oration
on what's questionable in mankind,
in *Waiting for 'God-ot'*.
my friend John Phillips's 1969
dove gray fedora w/ wild feather.
Bob Dylan's mystery lover's Panama Hat.
Bob Creeley's Black Mountain Felt Boater Hat.
Duke Ellington's Satin
Top Hat. Acorn Hats of Tree.
Freud's 1950 City Fedora.
Joseph Brodsky's Sailor Cap.
Harry K Stammer's Copper Hat
Hell. Lewis LaCook's bowler hat(s).
Tom Beckett's Bad Hair Day
Furry Pimp Hat. Daughter Holly's black beret.
harry k stammer's fez. Cat
in the Hat's Hat & best
hat, Googling Texfiles:
crocheted hat with flames.
Harry K Stammer's tinseled berets.
Tex's 10 gallon Gary Cooper felt Stetson cowboy hat.
Jordan Davis's fedora.
Dali's High-heel Shoe Hat. Harry K Stammer's en-blog LAPD Hat
& aluminum baseball cap. cap'n caps. NY-Yankees caps. the HKS-in-person-caps
are blue or green no logos nor captions.
Ma Skanky Possum 10's nighttime cap.
moose antler hat. propeller beenie hat.
doo rag. knit face mask hat. Bob Dylan's & photographer Laziz
Hamani's panama hats. Mark Weiss's Publisher's Hat.
Rebecca Loudon's Seattle-TX-Hats'n'boots.
Ever-Evolving Links:
Dominic Rivron
Unidentified
Br Tom @ One & Plainer
Dan Waber: ars poetica anthology
Dan Waber: altered books anthology
chris daniels: Notes to a Fellow Traveller
Chris Daniels: Toward an Anti-Capitalist Poetry
David Daniels: The Gates Of Paradise
subterranean poets: Beijing Poetry Group
Charles Alexander/Chax Press: Chaxblog
Headlines Poetry: the latest weblog entries
Henry Gould's AlephoeBooks
Julie Choffel's Understory
Tom Murphy's former one
Jean Vengua's New Okir
Roger Pao's Asian-American Poetry
Tom Lisk: Oilcloth and Linoleum
Kevin Doran
Reb Livingston's Cackling Jackal Blog
Janet Holmes: Humanophone
Lorna Dee Cervantes
Mark Young's gamma ways
Brian Campbell: Out of the Woodwork
Shanna's DIY Publishing Blog
Galatea Resurrects: a Poetry Review
Tom Beckett
John Sakkis: BOTH BOTH
New Francois Luong:Voices in Utter Dark, KaBlow!sm is...
Old Francois Luong: Voices in Utter Dark
Margin Walker: Andrew Lundwall
Free Space Comix: the latest BK Stefans blog
Adam Lockhart, Experimentalist Composer
Antic View: Alan Bramhall & Jeff Harrison
lookouchblog: Jessica Smith
MiPOradio
Web Log -- Charles Bernstein
Google Poem Generator: Leevi Lehto
Marie Mutsuki Mockett
Feral Scholar: Stan Goff
worderos: Tom Beckett
In Galatea's Purse
Japundit
Quiet Desperation: Jim Ryal
Luca Antara: Martin Edmond
Brief Epigrams: Ryan Alexander MacDonald
Radio My Vocabulary: 4 pm Sunday Poetry Streams
Mark Lamoreaux: [[[0{:}0]]]
Hot Whiskey Blog
louder
Nick Bruno: They Shoot Poets Don't They?
Joe Massey: Rooted Fool
Kate Greenstreet: every other day
heuriskein: Tom Orange
Chiaroscuro Metropoli: Tom Beckett
Behrle's latest spout!
Fluffy Dollars: Michelle Detorie
Jane Dark's Sugar High!
The Katherine Anne Porter Literary Center
(Charles) Olson Now: Michael Kellaher & Ammiel Alcalay
kari edwards' TranssubMUTATION
Notes on the Revival: Jeremy Hawkins
PurPur: Petrus Pokus
Snapper Missives: Scott Pierce
A Sad Day for Sad Birds II: Gina Meyers
Great Works: Peter Philpot
zafusy: experimental poetry journal
Writeboard: a collaborative writing tool
John Latta: Rue Hazard
KP Harris: Croissant Factory
Stephanie Young's New Site
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Portable Press@Yo~Yo Labs
Square America
Amy King's blog
Robert: Peyoetry Hut
Muisti Kirja: Karri Kokko
Karri Kokko's Blonde on Blonde
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Self Similar Writing: Jukka Pekka Kervinen
The Little Workshop: Cassie Lewis
Sky Bright: Jay Rosevear
Poesy Galore: Emily Lloyd
Lisa Jarnot's Blog
Poetry Hut: Jilly Dybka (has moved here)
Pornfeld: Michael Hoerman
Seven Apples: Justin Ulmer
Hi Spirits: Andrew Burke
Bacon Bargain!: Joe Massey
Ivy is here: Ivy Alvarez
Whimsy Speaks: Jeff Bahr
Umbrella: Jeff Wietor
Chicanas! (Susana L. Gallardo)
Masters of Photography
Blog of Disquiet: Gary Norris' Teaching Blog
Suzanna Gig Jig
Bad with Titles: Jay Thomas
Spaceship Tumblers! Tony Tost
Desert City: Ken Rumble
E-Po
Zotz!
Optative Mood: Tim Morris
ecritures bleues: Laura Carter
The Ingredient: Alli Warren
Skanky Possum Pouch
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Jewishy-Irishy: Laurel Snyder
Sea-Camel: Alberto Romero Bermo
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Tom Raworth
Entropy and Me: Hal Johnson
Scott Pierce: Snapper's Junk
Chicano Poet: Reyes Cardenas
Semio-Karl M&M
Stephen Vincent
Hoa Nguyen/Teacher's & Writers
a New Word Placements
Narcissus Works: Anny Ballardini
Richard Lopez
Tributary: Allen Bramhall
The_Delay: Chris Vitiello
Jukka Pekka Kervinen: Nonlinear Poetry
Lanny Quarles: Phaneronoemikon
Clifford Duffy: Fictions of Deleuze & Guattari
DagZine
Carrboro Poetry Festival
Steve Evans: Third Factory
DEBORAH PATILLO
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Tim Peterson: Mappemunde
WOOD'S LOT
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Ann Marie Eldon
Jim Behrle: The Jim Side
Ray Bianchi:Postmodern Collage Poetry
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Tony Tost: Unquiet Grave
Grapez
SB POET
Mark Young's Pelican Dreaming
|||AS/IS2|||
Li's A Private Studio
Anny Ballardini's Poet's Corner
Tom Beckett: Vanishing Points
Dumbfoundry
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Hear-it dot org: info on hearing problems
Tim Yu's Tympan
James Yeager's Modern Lives
Tony Robinson: Geneva Convention
Daniel Nestor's Unpleasant Event
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Carlos Arribas: Scriptorium
David Nemeth
Ela's Incertain Plume
Mairead Byrne's Heaven
Catherine Daly
Black Spring
Br.Tom's Finish Yr Phrase
Shin Yu Pai: makura-no-soshi
Harry K. Stammer: Downtown LA
Corina's Fledgling Wordsmith
Jilly Dybka's Poetry Hut
Ben Basan's Luminations
Katey: Chewing on Pencils
YaY!! Eileen Tabios: Chatelaine Poetics !
Jill Jones: Ruby Street
Geoffrey Gatza's BlazeVox
Bill Allegrezza's P-Ramblings
Gary Sullivan's Elsewhere
GoldenRuleJones
Poetry_Heat
Bookslut
Chickee's SuperDeluxeGoodPoems
As-Is !
John Latta's Hotel Point
Sawako Nakayasu's Ongoing Show
Shanna Compton's Brand New Insects
Crag Hill
kari edwards: transdada
Fluss
Michael Helsem's Gray Wyvern
Word Placement
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Jordan Davis: Equanimity
Robert Flach's Unadulterated Text
Michelle Bautista
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Farewell Tonio!
In Through the Out Door
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Awake at Dawn on Someone's Couch is Toast
Jukka-Pekka Kervinen:Non-Linear
Xpress(ed) !
Chris Lott's Ruminate
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Laura: Yellowslip
Stick Poet Super Hero
Mighty Jens!
Radio UTA: Toni's Thursday Poetry Show
Tim Morris: Lection
Gabe Gudding
Constant Critic
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Fanaticus
AdvExpo
Stephen Vincent
Stephanie Young: New Well Nourished Moon
Kasey Silem Mohammad's Newest Limetree
Lanny Quarles: (solipsis)//:phaneronoemikon
States Writes
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Simulacro
Braincase Links
Sentence
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73 Urban Bus Journeys
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poetry for the people: canwehaveourballback?
Ernesto Priego's Never Neutral
Nick Piombino's Fait Accompli
Weekly Incite blogresearch
Jim Behrle's first monkey
Jim Behrle's Monkey's Gone to Heaven
David Kirschenbaum's Boog City
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Laurable
David Hess Heathens in Heat
Jack Kimball's Pantaloons
Li Bloom's Abolone
Ron Silliman
Chris Sullivan's Bloggchaff
Chris Sullivan's Slight Publications
Chris Sullivan's Department of Culture
Kasey S. Mohammad's Old-New Limetree
Kasey's Old Limetree
James Meetze: Brutal Kittens
Cassie Lewis: The Jetty
Joseph Mosconi's Harlequin Knights
Nada Gordon's Ululate
ultimate: Stephanie Young's First Well Nourished Moon
Steve Evans: Third Factory
Noah Eli Gordon's Human Verb
Jean Vengua's Blue Kangaroo
Sawako Nakayasu: Texture Notes
Free Space Comix: BK Stefans
Crosfader
Malcolm Davidson's eeksy peeksy
Marsh Hawk Press group
Catherine Meng's Porthole Redux
Josh Corey's Cahiers de Corey
Very Nice! Shampoopoetry
UTA's Lit Mag: ZNine
Wild Honey Press
Jacket
JFK's Poetinresidence
Malcolm Davidson's Tram Spark poems
HYepez: RealiTi
HYpez: Mexperimental
Aimee Nez's Gila Monster
BestMaX: Jim Behrle's jismblog
Cori Copp's Littleshirleybean
Jordan Davis: Million Poems
Eileen Tabios: Corpsepoetics [see Chatelaine above]
YaY! Liz's Thirdwish
Ultra Linking
Henry Gould's HG Poetics
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Monday, July 07, 2003
Dept. of Will Wonders Ever Cease?
Hah! The verrryyyy lemonnneee gEkKo is back and playing chase around the live oak trunk with a sparrow: sparrow? afoot!
Shopping with Fei Update:my very good friend Fei Xie called the other day to say she had not gone shopping but had gone to a farm somewhere around here where you can pick your own blueberries. I never heard of this but she left me a message telling me to come over because she has lots of extra. I LOVE blueberries, too! So I'm on my way over there in a little while to get some and have *wonders of nice visity* with Fei, her husband, and her brother.
Also: meeting up this evening with Mr. Cedrick May to hear all about the research on the Dr. Martin Luther King Museum book.
More: Coming Soon: Wonders Will Never Cease!
chris at
11:35 PM
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Dept. of Final Exams:
Essay Exam Question: What is American Literature?
(part of) One Student's Response:
"You think of America, and you think of American authors. American literature is not just about those things. From American literature you get poems from Phyllis Wheatley, you get letters from Christopher Columbus, and a powerful novel by Zora Neale Hurston. This literature is about people expressing themselves.They express themselves in many different ways. You learn about people's lives, the struggles that they went through to get where they are. You learn the history of America and the journeys that people take. You ask, What is American Literature? It is what you learn from the things you've read."
chris at
5:50 PM
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Notes from the Dalai Lama:
"Freedom is the real source
of human happiness and creativity.
Only when it is allowed to flourish,
can a genuinely stable international climate exist."
chris at
11:09 AM
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Today's Best Google search yielding TexFiles:
"Fredrick Douglass Speech July 4, 1852"
Texfiles turned up # 8 in all that--who woulda thought?
Maybe it was because Chris Sullivan linked
to Texfiles when he posted the entire Douglass speech (Yes!)
on his blog the other day. Then, too, there was that passage I
posted a month ago quoting Norton Anth's description that I think makes Douglass sound like a pop-cult figure of his time (rightly so).
chris at
3:16 AM
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Olja at home in Novi Sad!!
http://www.exitfest.org/english/indexenglish.htm>
If you go to the most recent issue of Znine, at
http://www.uta.edu/english/znine.edu
which is UTA's lit journal that I write for and help edit, you will find a poem of mine, "Postcard from Novi Sad." It's dedicated to one of my dearest friends, Olja Jokic. She's completing a doc degree in comp lit/cultural studies at UMich Ann Arbor, but right now is home in Yugoslavia on holiday and sent me this link to post so we could see whazzup over there. (For some unknown reason I can't make the link work in html so sorry!--but just copy it up and go)
Thanks, O!!
Be sure, now, to go get some ZaZenY'all
chris at
2:54 AM
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Front Page: The 17th & 18th Centuries, Causes for Pause Edition
"Even as the Papists have their He and Shee Saint Protectors as St. George, St. Patrick, St. Denis, Virgin Mary, &c.
"Squauanit____________________The Woman's God
Muckquachuckquand____________The Children's God
...
Keesuckquand ________________The Sun God
Nanepaushat__________________The Moone God
Paumpagussit__________________The Sea
Ytaanit________________________The Fire God
Supposing that Deities be in these &c."
Roger Williams, "A Key Into the Language of America," (1643) qtd. @ Heath Anthol. Am Lit. 4th ed., 2002.
chris at
2:12 AM
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Dept. of Very Late News: Gossip about the *Poetical*
from William Byrd
(1735, Virginia):
"But alas what can we poor hermits do, who know of no intrigues, but such as are carry'd on by the amorous turtles, or some such innocent lovers? Our vices & disorders want all that wit & refinement, which make them palatable to the fine world. We are unskild in the arts of making our follys agreeable, nor can we dress up the D!!!! so much to advantage, as to make him pass for an angel of light. Therefore without a little invention, it would not be possible for one of us anchorites to carry on a tolerable correspondence, but like French historians, where we don't meet with pretty incidents, we must e'en make them, & lard a little truth with a great deal of fiction.
"Perhaps you'll think the story I am going to tell you is of this poetical sort. We have here an Italian bona roba [wench], whose whole study is to make her person charming, which to be sure will sound very strangely in the ears of an English lady. Those who understand physognomy suspect this dear creature has been a Venetian cortezan, because of her whole mein & every motion proves she has been trained up in the art of pleasing. She does not only practice graces at her glass, but by her skill in opticks, has intstructed her eyes to reflect their rays in a very mischeivous manner. In a word she knows how to make the most of every part that composes her lovely frame, as you will see by the harmles adventure that follows... ."
"Letter to Mrs. Jane Pratt Taylor," qtd., from Heath Anthol. Am Lit. ed. Lauter, 2002.
Look out ! Those femme fatales have Opticks Skills...
qtd. @ Heath Anthol. Am. Lit., 4th Ed., 2002
I'm thinking this an apt way to define historical awareness: "very late news."
chris at
2:09 AM
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Qualifies for Special Mystic t.X.Files Experiences Folder: Sleepless in 1743 Dept.
"I continued in a sweet and lively sense of Divine things, until I retired to rest. That night... was the sweetest night I ever had in my life. I never before, for so long a time together, enjoyed so much of the light, and rest, and sweetness of heaven in my soul, but without the least agitation in my body during the whole time. The great part of the night I lay awake, sometimes asleep, and sometimes between sleeping and waking. But all night I continued in a constant, clear and lively sense of the heavenly sweetness of Christ's excellent and transcendent love, of his nearness to me, and of my dearness to him. .... At the same time, my heart and soul all flowed out in love to Christ; so that there seemed to be a constant flowing and reflowing of heavenly and divine love... and I appeared to myself to float or swim, in these great beams of the love of Christ. So far as I am capable of making a comparison, I think that what I felt each minute, during the continuance of the whole time, was worth more than all the outward comfort and pleasure, which I had enjoyed in my whole life put together. It was a pure delight, which fed and satisfied the soul. It was pleasure, without the least sting, or any interruption. It was a sweetness, which my soul was lost in. It seemed to be all that my feeble frame could sustain, of that fulness of joy... ."
So sayeth Sister Sara Pierrepont Edwards (1710-1758), in a testimony of her religious feeling after conversion (her husband, Jonathan [better known author than she] drew heavily from this to write his classic, "Some Thoughts Concerning the Present Revival of Religion in New England," in 1743).
Amen, Sister.
qtd. @Heath Anthol. Am Lit., 4th Ed., 2002
chris at
1:40 AM
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Sunday, July 06, 2003
from A Sappho Series
# 102 *
Come here, to me,
rose-like Graces--
in the July hour
outside parade
& what passes
through me
so familiar
Xaris, flow
from all
coming
gesture
Muses, [bind up] your lovely hair--
I have bound mine,
wiping heat's--You are?--
sweat
from my face
not absent
minded
the strands for this
salt
sweet
* cf. Josephine Balmer translation, Sappho: Poems & Fragments.
Lobel & Page 128. interlinear dispersions: chris murray
chris at
8:33 PM
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The Encolpius Skirt: Alexandra’s Afterlife
--a few thoughts in 3 Blogger segments,
on Alexandra Papaditsas' and Kent Johnson’s
Miseries of Poetry: Traductions from the Greek--
segment 1: Bringing Miseries to a Classroom
“1. A single mind is all things.
2. All things are a single mind
[Large holes: Moths? American academics?]...
14. Spit out your self and swallow others.
[Large strange holes, mysterious gaps, frightening loss.]...
28. The boat and the shore travel at the same time, walk together,
without floating or turning.”
--Alexandra Papaditsas and Kent Johnson, The Miseries of Poetry (18)
[1] “But look here,” I protested, “aren’t you professors hounded by just these same Furies of inflated language and pompous heroics? How else can you account for all that wretched rant: ‘Nay, but gentle sirs, mark ye well these wounds I suffered in the struggle to preserve our common liberties. Twas on thy behalf...’ ... And so on: ‘No one would mind this claptrap if only it put our students on the road to real eloquence. [No, instead] we keep them utterly ignorant of real life... ”
--Petronius, Satyricon (21)
Skewering academic life, its aspirations toward impractical or baroque philosophizing, its tedious scholastics (no less the scholiasts themselves, poor devils), its furry fetishes with texts and cramped, imprisoning or censorious literary endeavors, has been a favorite of the wilder poets and slingers of poetic arts at least since Plato’s Phaedrus and Symposium, and probably well before. Several centuries after Plato’s litotes ridden romps in Athens, we find Petronius in Rome writing a text doing more La Bamba Baby than even Socrates and Alcibiades could have withstood, criss-crossing the flooring of accumulated Ciceronian high ideals of ethereal body-denying eloquence: all that “claptrap” Virgil got paid to monumentalize (not to blame Virgil, of course: was he not just doing his job?), and that Cicero gladly disseminated in (his odd idea of mostly monologic) dialogue form. We should be well used to this wondrous fun-poking committed in the smirky Janus names of textual/sexual intercourse.
We are not. Why this is so makes for added fun via infinite speculation regarding the superbly radical text, The Miseries of Poetry, which gathers, layers, weaves, fictionalizes gloriously, and reweaves many ancient fragmentary texts to create a work worthy of Lobel and Page’s attention, were these serious fellows of highest learning within the biz and buzz of Classics translation still alive and cranking out text. Alas, they are gone. They have missed a chance at gaining a sense of humor one more time! Who to turn to so to understand the import of this fun? And how do I know that we are probably not yet used to any such wondrous fun-poking as can be found in works such as that of Petronius? I will be teaching Mr. Johnson’s text next spring semester, so, lately by way of preparation I have had to compose the persona, to picture myself as a dignified Ciceronian prof (but female: thus, cross-dressed? I mean poor Cicero is just so, well, MALE) in a college classroom, professing to know well this particular text. Pause. And just to really bring this home, now, let’s just say it’s a Texas classroom. Pause. And here is what we are reading aloud--for, poetry, especially ancient poetry, must be read aloud:
On the Bastard Boupalous
Be a coat rack for me, dear, while I clock
Boupalous on his snot-filled nose.
Following this, be a four-legged bench,
as I fuck from the rear his sweet,
the idiot giantess of Rhegium.
Thank you, Ibykos, handsome whore-boy,
for supporting my revenge.
--Alexandra Papaditsas and Kent Johnson, Miseries (4)
Well then. This is different than the usual classroom fare.
chris at
8:55 AM
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segment 2. Escape Hatches Available to the Wily.
Long pause. In which I must observe that apparently my audience is not prepared for the considerations of bodily matters that this poem plainly makes explicit. What to do with that? Well, fortunately the writer knew what to do. Mr. Johnson has used two very reasonable escape hatches available to the wily (certainly wilier than Plato, I am starting to think) writer: one is the use of Alexandra as authoritative presence (if not exactly voice). The other is that old bugbear of poets and book planners everywhere: strategic placement (eg., as clichéd from Aristotle: save the best for last). Each of these elements is a well documented matter of rhetorical knowledge or awareness: the one considers positions of enunciation in terms of performative voicing. Plato invented and took liberties with his voice of Socrates, which of course extended to all manner of imagined play. And for his part, Socrates had done something similar with Diotima (browse: several essays cover this well in Before Sexuality: Constructions of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World, David Halperin, John Winkler, Froma Zeitlin, eds., Princeton UP, 1990). Alternatively, Mr. Johnson here very modestly proposes (for all textuality is a matter of proposing, of creating propositions to place under consideration) Alexandra, thereby assuaging a fervent complaint of feminists who track developments in classical studies (see “Why is Diotima a Woman?” by David Halperin, in Before Sexuality), thereby also restoring in proper revisionist portion, a specialness to the indeterminacy of literally, sexual/textual femaleness.
But to the practical problem of my students: they will not know this. They will be saying who the heck is this Alexandra Papaditsas, anyway? They will be saying, Umm... Mr. Johnson?--is everything okay up there, man? So they will have to be led to this realization: there could not be a more ingenious way to take aim at and deftly slingshot several early twenty-first century cultural squirrels (hi Kasey!) than to discover your own Alexandra P on a Greek Isle (where can we all find one of these?--I’m calling Travelocity today, yes!). She is tradition, history, gender (female), martyrly, and nun-like yet motherly all in one. Not since the Virgin Mary has textuality had such a compactly singular gender synechdoche. Appropriately, she is such a sultry culture-martyr, a learned figure of mystique and a monumental, terrible, sentimental grief for the (apparently) lost essence of femaleness--whatever that was, or so the logic must go which will certainly one day lead us all to understanding what it (femaleness) is now. YaY!
But I do have to say this: Mr. Johnson, as a feminist, I am offended. Here is why: Alexandra, although certainly more of a pastoral woman than a civic one, should not have been associated with a “billy goat.” (iii) This is a problem not of superficial representation but of quality in deepest proportion. Rather than the billy goat, known for its stubbornness, the more appropriate comparison would have been to the Grand Canyon Big Horn Sheep, known not only for stubbornness, sure, but also even more notably for its wile, its sure footed-ness, and its longevity--this animal, unlike the billy goat, can last well over 100 years in conditions of the steepest build-up of petrified bat guano. And, if all these characteristics were not enough to recommend this fine animal to you as more proper source for comparison, then consider this: the “keras” of the Grand Canyon Big Horn Sheep necessarily winds and curls luxuriantly into several layers of whorls over the animal’s long life time (Pantene is rumored to be distilling a life prolonging substance from this animal’s horn). Simple syllogism, Mr. Johnson: if Alexandra is as remarkable as Mr. Slavoj Zizak is quoted as saying in the book’s “Introduction” (1), and if, as you yourself claim when you write,
“her textual eruptions should be seen as bony knobs sprouting from the heads of such minotaurish translations as these--weird but extrinsic appendages of the ravaged body in which they root... projections of love’s ultimate excrescence,” (iv)
then the only way to find, as you also, more wistfully write, “ her curling horn... within the layered strata of the asteroidal debris,” (iv) is to compare this magical woman to the Grand Canyon Big Horn Sheep. In this I think I have made my point.
chris at
8:51 AM
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segment 3: (Legal) Freedom Is Only One Hundred and Thirty Eight Years Old.
The other matter of rhetorical awareness, which is placement, does tweak very slyly and to good effect, with a linear reading process which is to say the development of things one step at a time: one following the other step-by-step in strict order, like numbers or car parts on an assembly line in Detroit circa 1971. Thus, we do not hear about Boupalous’s far more unconventional bodily positionings until well after we have heard some things that are easier on the delicate ears and mental sensibilities of today’s educational aspirants. For example, we hear in the first poem, “Social Dictum,” that “The City is the teacher of Man.” Fair enough, and most of today’s audiences would not be at loss to hear this. A few lines further on down the line, however, things start to get a little more, well, sticky:
shit steams in the public places,
writhes and curls like slugs into letter shapes,
which our slaves, spilling limed water from amphorae,
wash away before the lesson can be read. (1)
We are not only back at the body and its discomfiting fluids and overflows but such is compared to an alphabet hearkening unto Mr. de Sade himself, who wrote so much of bodily excess and overflow that he was censored, jailed, and left without his means of pen and paper so that his only choice for ink and venue became his own excrement on the wall. The students will probably pause over this passage but it can be explained as an allusion as well as a political statement about the depravity forced on others in the despicable state of human relations called slavery. All students need reminding that this problem is ancient in that the state of human relations called (legal) freedom is only (barely) one hundred and thirty eight years old: in other words, things are not as secure as students may think. Enough said when the word “Vigilance” is then brought into discourse.
We also find the hint of another possible cause for raised eyebrows from students and Others, in the poem, “Bacchanalia of Poets.” This poem mentions “arses” but does so as politely as possible. Students might smirk a little but will probably not stop reading over this. Rather, what has slyly happened here is a steady build-up of images and actions that are borderline: they could be questionable or could cause outrage in some but not in most members of an audience of students. In other words, the majority of the audience has been eased into an awareness that this is a candid text about the body, sure. So far, however, there has been no reason to stop engaging this text since there is not yet any mention of explicit sexuality, which would be the real trigger or panic button for late Victorian sensibilities of the kind most common today.
That matter is left to our Boupalous poem, quoted above in segment 1. But of course, by the time the students reach it in their linear procedure, they can see it in context with other body matters of an explicit nature. Therefore (although somewhat of a risk in terms of alienating audience), it should not alienate the majority of audience which is the point according to both Aristotle and Cicero. Sway the majority and the desired change will occur. Sway polemically and you find or breed chaos. Besides, it is bad manners. You can consult Adam Smith on that--his lectures on Belles Lettres. His economics going hand in hand, of course.
This brings us to an end of our chosen topics in the prescribed linear development known as expository prose. There has been a twofold main point of all this:
**Get This Book from Skanky Possum or SPD and Read It--no one else is writing this radically about the western tradition’s poetic and rhetorical legacies. No one.
** Do not bother asking Kent Johnson why there is an Alexandra. He does not know, so cannot tell you. Instead, simply be gladdened by this textual and imagistic presence.
Just call it the Encolpius Skirt, or Alexandra's Afterlife.
chris at
8:47 AM
|
Coming around to the home stretch. Should be able to post within the hour.
Meanwhile, here's an interesting "piece" from this booK, Alexandra Papaditsas and Kent Johnson, The Miseries of Poetry: Traductions from the Greek:
Fragment
[Moths have eaten here. Who sent them?]
they will remember us
by our pieces. Our torsos
will move them to poetry.
They will put our parts on parade,
to imagine what we were,
so to forget what they,
dreaming us, are.
--Attalyda, provenance and dates unknown. From papyrus discovered in the Montazah Palace find, Alexandria, Egypt, 1998.
The brackets: check out the use of brackets to enclose another story continuously throughout this book--in fact the only practical continuity.
chris at
6:44 AM
|
Stephen Vincent got thinking about the poem above in Miseries, and created this "Conversation" response:
Don't even worry
We will be forgotten
Without a torso
And what else
There will be nothing
Upon which to imagine:
Not even this beautiful hand.
They will have to use their own.
May the Gods bless them
As well.
Check out how this literally hinges with the joints or turns in the other poem. A very interesting take, Stephen, on form inclusive of concerns both for content and for structural poetic.
chris at
2:49 AM
|
Field Report:
I have finished one third of the recon of my essay on Kent's Miseries. I'm liking this one much better. I wanted to post it but then realized that since it is the beginning third of a linear development, and blogging posts choronologically, then the essay introduction will come last for readers. No, I don't think I want that.
This is actually becoming an interesting probem I will have to share with my writing students when back at teaching in the fall.
But when I am done with this here expository, linear thing?-- I'm writing reams of imploded fragmenta, so send me your best lyric collisions no more than 4 words each: a new genre: I'm calling it Blogger's Archaelogy of Non-Linear Knowledge. Um, how weird is that little fantasy? (don't go there!)
more soon.
chris at
2:44 AM
|
Let's Have a Picnic!--a few words from my favorite sponsor:
When the people of Lhasa (Tibet)
sometimes climbed for pleasure,
they chose hills of a reasonable
size and on reaching the top
would burn incense, say prayers,
and then relax with a picnic.
--Dalai Lama
I am Still doing recon.
But want to say
Stephanie, thanks so much.
and Hello & Congratulations to Professor (YaY!!) Cedrick May (hi Ced!!), of Auburn University in Birmingham, Alabama. Professor May is working on a book about the Dr. Martin Luther King Museum in Birmingham, and is visiting his family in Cleburn, Texas this week.
chris at
1:21 AM
|
Saturday, July 05, 2003
Life's Little Mysteries/ Miseries Dept.
Blogger X'd my essay on Kent Johnson's Miseries of Poetry (they left a nice little note down there where the essay used to be). So, I'm reconstructing it. Will post again as soon as done (this afternoon). In segments. Thanks for yr patience. In segments.
ZaZenY'all
chris at
7:54 PM
|
Hello & Happy Fourth of July to Mark Weiss! Here's some beauty in lyric poetry from Mr. Weiss to make the holiday and our happiness to have it, more luxuriuos than ever:
XXVIII
A last drink with the boatman
and the water lapping. Lost
in blue froth
at the edge
of the wave at the end
of night.
Layers of froth, and inland
the sound of dawn-birds and the last revelers.
Wind blows the white pages.
Last blue of night
first blue of morning.
*
The dangerous conflict
of the non-human.
*
Into the darkest place
the light penetrates.
Sculpting with light.
The ghost of a brush stroke
the ghost of a thought
the ghost of an imprint.
The shore of the sun
the powder of light
and at night
here on the edge of it
here where it breaks or drifts
this vulgar place
density of event
dots in matrix.
*
The sail the sun
the horizon
*
Sky interpenetrates the tree
as an act of passion.
Sky-theater.
*
The bend of a thumb
the bend of a nipple.
The thrilling rain.
*
Someone has died in this thrilling rain.
The terrible wind in
whatever kind of trees.
*
I have made this voyage
before, *
and before
and before
and before.
**
*
Mark Weiss, Figures: 32 Poems Chax Press , 2001. (27)
chris at
12:30 AM
|
Friday, July 04, 2003
Nick ! of the Wisdom Crush List! Happy Fourth to you and yours
chris at
9:46 PM
|
an email from India: Good News: this week a special Wedding in Banglore!!
Here's wishing a very Happy Wedding to my good friend, Gurudev Sirsi. Gurudev will be married this coming Monday, July 7, 2003, to his beloved bride Aruna, at 12-34 pm (Abhijin) in Bangalore 560011 INDIA
For the Happy Couple, a poetic Offering:
words from ancient Greek poet, Psappha (here, translated to English by Josephine Balmer), for the happy couple:
"Lucky Bridegroom,
the marriage you have prayed for has come to pass
and the bride you dreamed of is yours...
Beautiful bride,
to look at you gives joy; your eyes are like honey,
love flows over your gentle face...
[The goddess of love] Aphrodite
has honored you above all others"
Happiness!
chris at
9:40 PM
|
Special Happy Fourth! to Li Bloom,
who emailed to say she, too, listens
to Buena Vista Social Club! And hey, Li,
some wonderful lyrics up there on yr blog--enjoyin' it.
The Truth is Out There
not In Here!!
chris at
9:23 PM
|
More Wishes for a Happy Fourth of July!!
***Read Fredrick Douglass' speech about the meaning of the Fourth, on Chris Sullivan's Slight Publications
***Read an interview by Sentinel Poetry editor, Nnorom Azuonye, with Stephen Vincent, on teaching and learning in 70s Nigeria. Also exerpts from Stephen's *Walking*
Sentinel Poetry:"Stand Firm at the Gate of Your Heart!"
***Read about Kent Johnson's Alexandra: Her Best Miseries: Shoving It to Embarrased Purveyors of Hegemonic Authority and Thick Headed High Culture, right here at Texfiles (later) today.
chris at
12:51 PM
|
Listening to Buena Vista Social Club. Does anyone around here listen to it? I like it. What a cool project Ry Cooder did on this.
chris at
10:04 AM
|
Special Report from Texfiles' Yearly Chris-on-the-Road Series:
Posting from YaY!!--The coffee shop aka Coffee Haus in Lincoln Square, North Arlington, Texas. What an adventure: they actually have people drinking coffee here :) also, live acoustic guitar players/singers. and drums. I love drums. These are a little tame. but kinda nice. i wz listening to techno all day tho, so all that gauzy band-aid acoustic (how awful is Janis Joplin--o Tex!--slowed to a temp of 31 farenheit?) grates a little. and people are noisy--good for them, not so good for my reading. try this with Janis and drumming in slomo-slush, for background:
"Marius Plotius Art of Grammar[on the Dactylic Metre]: The dactylic
Adonian dimeter catalectic was invented by Sappho, and that is why it is also
called the monoschematist Sapphic [oooo, yeah, i like how that sounds!] for it is
always composed of a dactyl and a spondee [ spondee is another cool word: it should always have a smiley face attached to it with a sunflower threatening just two inches away to scoop up any forgotten sunlight to store away for foggy San Francisco mornings, no?]; compare:
Woe for Adonis!" (25)**
Woa-yeah, right. I think six syllables dropped below the horizon waving white flags in the second clause. So much better with Janis and vice versa (actually, it could be... maybe there's something to this).
But: i'm eating a giant chocolate chip cookie. not bad, tho i have to say mine are better. will go home soon for green tea cocoon.
ZaZenY'all
**Loeb Lyra Graeca. ed., trans., JM Edmonds (Harvard Up, 1963), 199.
chris at
5:52 AM
|
Department of Stirring
Things Up (then I'm off to look into some Lobel & Page Sappho
in a coffee shop with outdoor tables!--i never go to them but will try this time).
Some Paulo Leminski (as translated by the incomparable Chris Daniels)*
to cool off the heat-lowering, institutional-chirrrrpy parts of the day:
wash me out
thin me down
mix me up
until
after me
after us
after everything
nothing's left
but the charm
[love this next one: seems to call attention to attitude adjustment for a few literary matters of colonization: great choice, Chris!]
one of these days i wanna be
a great english poet
of the last century
saying
o sky o sea o folk o destiny
fight in India, 1866
go down in a clandestine shipwreck
Haikus
enormous night--
everything sleeps
but your name
silk curtains
the wind comes through
without asking
1.
Zealous beasts keep minarets,
constellations are signs.
No starshadow;
comets--solemn;
the moon--enigma.
Celestial bodies--in contact,
hard light of hierarchy on high.
from Paolo Leminski, Meta(/other)poems trans. Chris Daniels, ed. with Chris Chen. Grand Quiskadee Publishing: Berkeley, 2003
"Translation Fights Cultural Narcissism"
chris at
3:07 AM
|
Thursday, July 03, 2003
special thanks to Aimee! for the X-men Quizilla.
chris at
7:45 PM
|
I took the Quizilla test, and here are my results (a little mirror ouch: fear=that much a motive?): But hey, I am Storm. She's cool, yes-- Oo--I think I *like* this!!
 You are Storm!
You are very strong and very protective of those you love. You are in tune with nature and are very concerned with justice and humanity. Unfortunately, certain apprehensions and fears are very hard for you to overcome, and can often inhibit you when most need to be strong.
Which X-Men character are you most like? brought to you by Quizilla
chris at
7:40 PM
|
Tornado Alley Countdown Love # 94
morning, lOvE!--
hairy arc of Hell’s
Angels gentling
three-ball time
cue rub by platinum
girl & blue chalk
to wrist, ("baby,"
you say
“just quick”) lilac
school house walk
instead--
fun-house
feel
one trinket’s tiny eye
bead & gold
margarita
salt on yr lip
love
finger mining
musem floor
map for all lost
wanting
velvet drape & rock booth
palm to palm:
ultraviolet & underground
cave-ins left
main street wrecked
so wrecked--
brilliant
fire engine
survives red
from Spirit
Room to Mingus,
let's just call it
the other Jerome
Chris Murray
Tornado Alley Series
chris at
12:42 PM
|
From Jack's Mars & Venus Dept.
Hey Deborah,
I know exactly what you mean about the desk and all the papers, the names of forgotten students (apologies, yes, to those we sometimes forget), but really, best of all is that random pile of forgotten writings: it proves something Spicer favored--a lot of unself. So, me, you, we are not the writers. We are the whirr: Spicer used the trope of Martians to convey it: They are channeled to do the writing. Now, I know--the complaint is, well, it sounds kinda WAcK!! but point is: writing reads and writes us, or is always there trying to do so. Sometimes our hands are there on the paper, too.
Um... and then six months later the hands go back in to straighten up the little mess. It's just like love. LuV & MaRTiaNs, yes.
But to be really honest, I do not like that idea at all. I want to mean what I say, say what I mean. So, basic paradox: Paradox is from Mars, Writing is from Venus.
chris at
5:50 AM
|
Yes: China, Hello! I'm glad you like Texfiles. Thanks for letting me know.
chris at
5:30 AM
|
Dept. of Squirrel Classics
Wow--Kasey,
super "homophonic" on Sappho's *Poikilothronos Athanat Aphrodita* !
chris at
3:54 AM
|
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
Some Good News in Texas:
Joe Ahearn, editor of Dallas' Rancho Loco Press and of Veer mag, has just released a new electronic chapbook that RoCkS.
Check out Joel Chace's chapbook, Levee, of down home, local-*loco* New Orleans poems:
go to
www.rancho-loco-press.com/veer/
Look for the VEER Chapbook series at bottom of page. Click on through to Joel's book, yes, but also note that there are 2 choices once you get to the Veer contents page: Definitely read both. Chapbook # 1 is Brian Clements' Ion (hi, Brian!) one of DFW's finest poets and best teachers, here, too.
My candidate for a Top Ten List in Texas blurbs:
Joe's, for Rancho Loco:
Think Global,
Act Loco!
Hell, yeah...
chris at
8:15 PM
|
Wonderful reading entry posted at Cahiers de Corey yesterday, reader afloat--telescoping--views on aethetics, between Adorno and Kant (!) in fascinating ways. Lovely quotes.
One of several provocative statements (oH So oRaCuLaR!) in Adorno's Aesthetic Theory :
"Artworks are alive in that they speak in a fashion that is denied to natural objects and the subjects who make them." (5)
Thanks for this thoughtful, detailed entry, Joshua Corey.
chris at
9:11 AM
|
E-hem & Em-broideries:
&&&&&&&&*********!!!!!!!!^^^^^^^^)))))))))))))..........................%%%%
Something for Eileen Tabios (who liked my line in To Do List, below, *Talk to wary starfish* and who took the time to work out problems & Blogger-frustrations to post a report about the Barbara Guest, Audacious Imagination event)--Thanks, Eileen!!
wArYsTaR
FisH SaYs **fiN-Fin
uN2. fiIDDlE oVeR
sAND, RolLinG
& haLLOwEd, bABY.**
HoW pOoL.
XXXXXX;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;OOOO==+++=+===+=+===UUUZZZZZZVVVVVVV
chris at
12:38 AM
|
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
To Do List:
Laundry
Laundry
Dishes
Grade exams
Turn grades in to Registrar
Eat at Baby/Blue: Paradise Downtown
No packing allowed:
Find nearest Ocean for indefinite stay
(dirty water but Galveston= easy drive, so OK)
Look for SeASheLL(_)
Drink green tea
Talk to wary starfish
ZaZenY'all
chris at
7:15 PM
|
Dept. of JaCk-WiZdOm:
"Dante would have blamed Beatrice
If she turned up alive in a local bordello
Or Newton gravity
If apples fell upward
What I mean is words
Turn mysteriously against those who use them
Hello says the apple
Both of us were object.
______________________________________
"There is a universal here that is dimly recognized. I mean everybody says some kinds of love are horseshit. Or invents a Beatrice to prove that they are.
"What Beatrice did did not become her own business. Dante saw to that. Sawed away the last plank anyone he loved could stand on."
By Jack Spicer
"Sheep Trails Are Fateful to Strangers"
The Heads of the Town
(Collected Books: Black Sparrow, 1975)
p. 125
chris at
12:04 PM
|
You're Either In It or You Ain't Dept.
Here?--We got Goodie Mob's STilL STanDiNg: soundy Atlanta, with bare-limbs-logo image and all over the music BOdY thing. You cannot sit still with this gOiNG. You're either iN it or "yoU aiN't*--as they say:
"we're from the ghetto__
ghetto__ghetto-ghetto__ghetto___
i know
you wonderin about my
spirit
and my ways___
in the ghetto there ain't no time outs"
But actually we do have lots of "time outs" here in my neighborhood. if time-outs are opportunities to get up out of a ghetto. or so lots of folks here say. something's still working, at least. don't know for how long, tho.
This line's why H's first boyfriend AJ gave me this Goodie Mob CD:
Poetry deep in the team
Y'all the stepped on?
we the green-green.
I love the 16+ prismatic ambiguities found in those lines.
Many of the cuts are more spoken word with tonepoem background than any classifiable hip hop or rap thing. Great percussion emphasis moving in and out. These guys have something to say (well it's 3 years old now I guess, but still works for me and history hasn't exactly righted itself in these past 3 yrs, has it?).
AJ really knew about, had some sense of wisdom about poetry UpPeR CAse P, even if he wasn't honorable to H. She had to send him away, of course. We got over it.
chris at
7:03 AM
|
from A Sappho Series*
# 115
[... like frightened doves]
[ too sensitive
to patterns I this your
bracket, double happiness
tattoo & pore brocade]
whose hearts turn to ice
[ with its curious burn,
slowed angel
chambers]
whose wings falter
[ nowhirrrr]
*Translated by Josephine Balmer *Sappho: Poems and Fragments.* (Lobel & Page # 42, Carol Publ., 1993 [interlinear dispersions, cmurray]).
chris at
6:24 AM
|
Cross country blogger bus, TP Billyness? That does sort of appeal, Catherine!
chris at
5:17 AM
|
Monday, June 30, 2003
Very Cool, Tim,
On the info about Poet Laureate position:
my students say "Hey! Thanks, man..."
for everything. We'll see how it goes.
I think for replacement Poet Laureate we should nominate Jim Behrle--wouldn't that be terrific??
That way the job would get done right...
chris at
8:26 PM
|
OOOSo Beautiful Blue Links Dept:
Wow!! Check out what's behind the blue links at Chris Sullivan's Slight Publications, on Sunday, June 29. Please do keep that Boss camera happy, Y'all ...
chris at
8:20 PM
|
From Gabriel Gudding (orig. posted to Buff-Po List, partly in response to a post I made there, after another he made about the exoneration of the murderers of US-activist and Evergreen College student, Rachel Corrie. While trying to protect a home in Palestine, on March 16, 2003, Rachel Corrie was run down, then run over two times, by an Israeli tank.).
How Unfortunate the Embrace of George Bush:
Quoting international scholar, Edward Said, "The Meaning of Rachel Corrie," PMC, June 28, 2003:
"The military solution hasn't worked at all and never will work. ... I want now to speak about dignity, which of course has a special place in every culture known... .With all the Bush administration's talk about guidance from the Almighty, doesn't one Arab leader have the courage just to say that, as a great people, we are guided by our own lights and traditions and religion? But nothing, not a word, as the poor citizens of Iraq live through the most
terrible ordeals and the rest of the region quakes in its collective boots,
each one petrified that his country may be next. How unfortunate the
embrace of George Bush, the man whose war destroyed an Arab country
gratuitously, by the combined leadership of the major Arab countries last
week. Was there no one there who had the guts to remind George W. what he
has done to humiliate and bring more suffering to the Arab people than
anyone before him, and must he always be greeted with hugs, smiles, kisses
and low bows? Where is the diplomatic and political and economic support
necessary to sustain an anti-occupation movement on the West Bank and Gaza? Instead all one hears is that foreign ministers preach to the Palestinians
to mind their ways, avoid violence, and keep at the peace negotiations,
even though it has been so obvious that Sharon's interest in peace is just
about zero. There has been no concerted Arab response to the separation
wall, or to the assassinations, or to collective punishment, only a bunch
of tired clichés repeating the well-worn formulas authorized by the State
Department."
chris at
9:15 AM
|
Just a Jack
reminder
even Jack would have
to say wz ever
part Jack
only:
** "Dear Lorca,
"I would like to make poems out of real objects. The lemon to be a lemon that the reader could cut or squeeze or taste--a real lemon like a newspaper in a collage is a newspaper. I would like the moon in my poems to be a real moon... the imagination pictures the real...
"Love,
Jack"
** fr. After Lorca, in The Collected Works of Jack Spicer. ed., Robin Blaser (Black Sparrow, 1975)
chris at
7:48 AM
|
Maybe a little Spicer* at dinner,
with a sprinkling of some nice arrested lettering?
III.
BEaUty iS sO RarE a TH---
SIng a nEw sOng
REal
MUsIc
A bUstEd flUSh. A pAIn iN the eYebroOWs. A
VIsItINg CaRd.
ThEre aRe rOcks on the mountains that will lie there for fifty
yEARs AnD I Only lIvEd wIth yOu thrEE mONthS
whY
DoES
YoUr aBsEncE sEEm sO rEal Or yOuR prEsEncEs
So uNInViTIng?
*fr. Fifteen False Propositions Against God
in Collected Wks of Jack Spicer, ed. Robin Blaser (Black Sparrow, 1975)
chris at
3:50 AM
|
How easy in Blogland it is sometimes to misinterpret things. I got some signals crossed recently over something posted at Kasey's. We've got it straightened out now but word about it is still bouncing back and forth. Really, Kasey, I'm sorry, too : in future I'll just *drop you a lime* to ask if a question comes up !
chris at
1:42 AM
|
from Jim's Monkey:
** Blogcon 3 Announcement: Call for Papers
*** HoW to--Ooooo--MaKe LOvE [Finally, all the lost secrets revealed!!]
**** Audblog Interview with Beautiful Gila Monster Blogger:
YaY!!! Aimee Nezhukumatathil
chris at
1:14 AM
|
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Semiotic Hauntings Dept.--Kundun
Lately haunted, not unpleasantly, by recurring image-moments. Triggered by?--a sensual image from, oh gee: a film! And it is more than obvious in its Lacanian implics, so I will spare myself and you that line of discussion. I am after something else here, more about *sharing.*
In the film, Kundun, story of the Dalai Lama's childhood and struggle, there is a scene where the adolescent Rinpoche is in a playroom with several monks. A row of silken sheets is folded over, suspended from ceiling (?) and across the length of the room. Effectively, then, something of a screen but loose, with a lot of give and take (!). Well I don't know the traditions--tho will look it up to see--but it seems a ritualizing, typical childhood kind of game: all the monks (not allowed directly, physically, to touch the person of our little deity) on one side of the flowing screen, which billows in and out--much giggling--as the little deity hurls himself , turning round and round, down the line of the veil behind which are the many (also giggling) monks. he monks hand him back and forth to one another. There is one shot meant to be ecstatic, I think, when the little deity, almost completely wrapped in the screen by now. pushes his face tightly into the screen. What we see in that moment is the impression of his features, taut, in silk. It is gold, if I recall correctly (I am working here not from the fact of the film but from my recall: what my imagination has made of this moment).
What the sensually deprived are ritually allowed to do for fun? Well yes, in a vulgar or limited logic, and in part the point of the film's narrative development.
But I want more here: isn't this also an apt representation of semiotic chora, as in how Kristeva envisions it in thinking of the infinite feminine a priori, the given--before language--(tho here of course shared as hybrid & literally masculine, new/old, then, layered, too--Just Wonderful!!)--differently from the more ordinary tradition in study of semiotics, which reminds me by comparison of something more like a glassed in conservatory of language's-- well--more sorry bounds (but inside are thousands of butterflies, not so far fetched: the Butterfly (Beauty-fly) Conservatory in Houston--been there?--you should go--butterflies love people--will light ever so lightly on a toe or a shoulder, linger a while, take off again, repeat...).
Well, I am sorry the Dalai Lama's experiences were apparently of an appalling kind of emotional deprivation. But I am so glad for this lovely, resonant image of play. So restorative. I'm glad it keeps recurring to me lately. If you haven't seen this flick, find it and have a look.
Dalai Lama quote for today:
At daybreak, if the weather is fine, I go into the garden. This time of day is very special to me.
chris at
10:07 PM
|
A lovely email from Stephanie Young at Well Nourished Moonto say hello. She's posted the Bill Luoma Sappho trans-poem, Phainetai Moi (a fine version of the same one from Balmer's translation--traditionally known as # 31--that I posted Thursday, June 26). Stephanie adds insightful commentary, aptly noting the poem's sensitive shifts in perspective. Thanks for this, Stephanie, I had not looked at Luoma's text before. Thanks to Steve Evans at Third Factory for the *connection* too.
chris at
9:35 PM
|
Lifelong Found
& Lost Dept.
Daniel Francis O'Connell !
Where are you??
If you read this, call
or email me...
chris at
8:51 PM
|
A Sappho Series +
27
[I want you to know:]
I prayed that for us
the night
[like a photo image]
could last twice as long
[but then I felt foolish]
P***********P
28
[I was dreaming of you but]
just then
[two of your Dali Cs began to = O, so]
Dawn, in her golden sandals
[woke me]
[wake me]
P**********P
68
... like the sweet apple
[or the cherries you so like]
turning red at the top of the highest branch,
[Baby, you do know what I'm doing here, right?]
forgotten by the apple gatherers -- no,
[i read the part about the fire three times]
not quite forgotten, for they could not reach so far...
[1500 miles]
P**********P
+ (all from Balmer translation; see below, Thurs. June 26; & italics: interlinear dispersions, c.m.):
HCIC: these might do Good Works, thx
chris at
12:55 PM
|
Must Read Dept.
"All in the Maker's Grace"
Kent Johnson has sent a note about Josely Vianna Baptista's On the Shining Screen of the Eyelids, translated by Chris Daniels (Manifest Press)
Earlier today I had an email from Kent Johnson (rock-on, Kent, with all that Alexandra-inspired, "layered stata..." + ), PoetryLand's bad boy supremo, that rocker of intellectual & gendered-prudishness alike, who has been visiting Texfiles--and **liking it!**
Texfile's epigram above drew Kent to read here, he says, (the epigram from) PoetryLand's incomparable translator, Chris Daniels (hi chris!), who, by the way, has also let me know that he likes reading Texfiles (YaY!!).
Judging from some of Kent's work, it appears he might be a difficult reader to please:
A demanding reader both intellectually and poetically, Kent Johnson reveres the Brazilian Josely Vianna Baptista's new book of poetry, *On the Shining Screen of the Eyelids*--with beautifully arresting artwork by Ms. Baptista's husband, Francisco Faria, and translated by Chris Daniels. I asked Kent if I could pass along a statement+ + he recently made about this most significant poet and book:
"I've been reading a poet like no other I've encountered: the newly
published *On the Shining Screen of the Eyelids*, by Josely
Vianna Baptista, translated and with a superb introductory essay
by Chris Daniels, incredible drawings by Francisco Faria, the whole
book most handsomely produced by Manifest Press. Absolutely
freaking stunning. I really can't think how to describe her work right
now. Hopkins crossed with Gongora, Dickinson, and late Zukofsky in a Santeria trance, or something. Maybe I'll try something some other time.
"I'm just going to read her right now and be amazed. To steal a line,
it's like ladling soup and a horse comes out. Do find this book. What's now happening in Brazilian poetry is stranger and more exciting than in the 60's, even. And Chris Daniels is the indefatigable artist taking us there."
A Sample of Josely Vianna Baptista's Poetry:
For now, +++ let me just post some of Ms. Baptista's tantalizing poetry-wonders, for that is what they are--far more than poetry, closer to wonders (though please forgive Blogger's inelegant lack of facility for the Portuguese letters & accents):
Refracta
para Vera e Milton
o
segredo
do
abraco
esta
na graca
de quem
faz
o
agrado
--
agua
recortando
o nado
de
um
peixe
sem
deixar
rastro
me
guarda
contigo
como
teu
umbigo
'
raso
e
narciso
'
te
abraca
comigo
como
se
a
perigo
'
paraiso...
And as translated by Chris Daniels:
Refrakton
for Vera and Milton
the
secret
of
the
embrace
is
all
in
the
maker
' s
grace
--
water
cleaves
a
fish
' s
wake
'
leaves
no
trace
watch
over
me
as
your
navel
'
shoal
and
narcissus
'
clutch
me
as
in
peril
'
paradise...
On the Translation:
Here is an idea of where, in his immaculate ethic of care for the delicate act of bringing people together across cultures, Chris Daniels steadfastly comes from:
"I cherish tones and registers that collide... I'm as concerned with music as I am with meaning. I'm an artist who translates, and translation, for me, is largely intuitive, something much more of the senses than of the intellect. ... I try to keep in mind that to be a translator is to be a point of contact between two cultures. ... First and foremost I thank Josely and Francisco. ... Josely for her work and for allowing me to give it presence in English."
And me? I just *love* reading--in fact, it is most " absolutely freaking stunning" when read *aloud,*this especially fine work of art.
Thanks, Kent for the note, and thanks All for this wondrous book.
+ The Miseries of Poetry: Traductions from the Greek [ Of which, none other than international cultural studies-guru Slavoj Zizek says, "In other words, fall now, reader. Fall, orangely, to the ground." ]
(2003 Skanky Possum--Yay!! ) Mr. Zizek *must* be referring to the abundant orange of the Skanky Possum's website, no? (Hi Dale & Hoa!)
+ + Kent also posted it to Ubuweb recently.
+++ I guess I misunderstood a 6/23/03 post by Kasey Mohammad. I thought when, referring to this book, he wrote, "I will need to say more about this gorgeous text soon," that he intended to write at length on it. That was not what it meant, as he points out today. Gee, I'm sorry Kasey--I really wasn't trying to make anything look any way, except to wait to see your post before doing mine, so to avoid repetitiousness.
chris at
12:13 AM
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Saturday, June 28, 2003
On Poet Laureate Problems:
Thanks Tim!
Wow! Tim's really getting down to bidd*ness with this Billyness/poet laureate thing. He looked up and posted a lot of detailed history about the position. Who would have guessed it came from Dan Quayle?--Bush/Quayle, what a Super Hero Duo that was, no?
What should we do? Can we get serious and at least write a public letter of protest about his callous lack of respect in public venues like email? Is this do-able? Of course, there is always a problem: that's a real boat-rocking thing to do. In other words, if anyone is thinkin of maybe trying to become the Poet Laureate one day (hey, what's wrong with $35Gs or so to live on *and* write poetry, too: I mean we all do something to live right?), then it may not be a good idea to sign off on this. Or should it matter? I'm serious. Email me cmurray@uta.edu
if you have comments or ideas on this.
chris at
11:41 PM
|
La La La Dept. Pink:
^^^^^^^^^^^^^%%%%%%%%%%%%%^^^^^^^^^^^
**I tried to call the nurse again
!ut she's bein' a little !itch...**
Just thought I'd interject
that little piece of real life leveling
into the larger blog reverie.
Someone's playing it loud
in my building.
oh, maybe this too:
**I get really tired of !oys all up in my face
pick up lines like what's yr sign won't get u anyplace
... we need a car that goes beep beep... [we need anything that goes beep beep]
... ladies well I know it aint easy
r*e*s*p*e*c*t
lets' come together...**
la la la la la
We got teens livin around up in he-ah!
Yea-ahh--
now back to your regularly scheduled pro-
grammmmmmmming mmmmm
mmmmminginginginginginging
chris at
10:39 PM
|
Tornado Alley Countdown Love: # 95
Before I-multiples
splash to only.
Limestone half-openings
& circles of whiskey light--
House Rock Valley
slopes, bedded heat
below forever,
red ant sleeping bags=
honeymoon
road ribbon & potholes
cured walls & shaving
mirror or pinon porn
& torn toe tissue,
Marble Bridge: "Go on, run,
you damn cold river"
run sparkling rainbow
trout--
need this V-8 escape? I say
thinking Ford--
you juice &
water breath me (& it’s alright:
your Bushmill’s)
man-made-dust-father,
some Che or river-lovers.
lover object
or action both.
silt cleaning
our fingers--
river: eddy our bodies.
using the “Thing”
to ask about the “Thing” ** --
cedar scent always stays--
what cured your noon?
God slide
& adore. Later,
Lava Falls,
treachery vista
rapid
where you
were only.
by Chris Murray , Tornado Alley Series
**HCIC: I hope you don't mind this borrowing...
(also: took yr advice on posting from word doc. thx)
chris at
2:52 AM
|
Forgive me this willfullness, this blatant narcissism, please (or is there a good kind of narcissism?-- i will have to remember to ask Nada or read on at Ululate--see post earlier today). Texfiles has its very own little literal mini-action-figure at Kasey's**. Thanks, Kasey! It looks just like a little, red, state of Texas, sure. But I prefer to think of it as a little beating heart of hearts... Okay. Back to being more vigilant about my willfulness and narcissism...
**By the way, if that link to Kasey's above doesn't work, try this one: :) :) :)
chris at
12:05 AM
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Friday, June 27, 2003
ZaZen Y'all's *Wisdom Crush List* Winner forEVER:
To Nick Piombino, for this:
"The very qualities we like may not be
acceptable to us. This is frightening and feels
like a diminution of power. Under these
conditions, power seems to reside in renouncing
temptation. This is not the first time (poetic
exagerration- in turn, this depends on
the purpose of possibilities and subtexts) we have
had to pause at the juncture when something
interesting was about to happen...we were
about to go on... "
But then again, what I have created in this frame of reference is more a misnomer: True Wisdom will not *Crush*--it will *Liberate*
Thanks, Nick, for this true wisdom.
chris at
11:41 PM
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Oooooooo, let's see: how do I look to myself?--ping--again--ping. Uh-oh...
Nada Gordon is seriously researching *narcissism,* something of a gangly blogging problematic in terms of self motivation, origins of personality, aspirations and outcomes of art, & the inevitable: consumerist drives.
I'm going to keep reading what she finds and discusses. Very nice, Nada: Thanks.
chris at
10:23 PM
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Wow!--the 1000th visitor just came through texfiles! Thanks everyone...
chris at
10:04 PM
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YaY!! No more State of Texas tellin' otherwise happy folks who are mindin' they're own biz, how they should enjoy sex.
Celebrate
and, as Joseph Mosconi, Harlequin Knights says:
*I think I'll go see Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom rather than The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.*
Go to the movies... and read Roland: *Barthes by Barthes* (cf Mr. Mosconi's post of June 24)
chris at
9:23 PM
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Very Magritte! Dept.
Hey everyone,check it out:
Kasey at Limetree has cool representational (literally:) Mini-Action-Pics posted on his links list--each (of several blogs so far) has its own little pic and some are (Totally!) moving:
Jim's Monkey is right there--shaking its head...
chris at
7:39 PM
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Billyness-Recall Report
Welcome back Tim Yu!
Update on Over-Laureatism: Despite the efforts of millions of valued poetic opinions, I'm sorry to have to report that Billyness still laureates the overly American poem. We are continuing to work on it though.
chris at
12:47 PM
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Department of:__Click__(waiting, whole beat)__Click__(half beat): Two Mints In One!
Thanks so much for the two, honoring shout-outs, Stephanie Young and Eileen Tabios. You rock!:
On her Well Nourished Moon Stephanie wrote yesterday that texfiles is not merely on, but *IS* her "poetic crush list". WOW!! and super Yay! We're a synechdoche. I love synechdoches!
On her Corpse Poetics Eileen says I pinged a good partial metaphor. Hooray! We're a metonymy. I love metonymies!
Blogland must be the only place in rhetoric where one can be both a synechdoche and a metonymy all at once.
I just feel all Minty now!
:) :) Flava: Peppermint gladly accepted anytime.
chris at
12:25 PM
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Thursday, June 26, 2003
HCIC! They were forecasting major storms but it's only a nice little cool rain, ya kno? Just fine.
chris at
12:50 PM
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FYI from that notoriously fragmented Baaaadddd Giiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrllllllllllllllllll,
Sappho (Greek, approx. 2,600 years ago)--a poem-quote, one of the most controversial attributed to this remarkable musician/composer/performer, now most often called poet:
(translated by [Australian,] Josephine Balmer, Sappho # 20 [#31 Lobel and Page])
"It seems to me that man is equal to the gods,
that is, whoever sits opposite you
and, drawing nearer, savours, as you speak,
the sweetness of your voice
"and the thrill of your laugh, which have so stirred the heart
in my own breast, that whenever I catch
sight of you, even for a moment,
then my voice deserts me
"and my tongue is struck silent, a delicate fire
suddenly races underneath my skin,
my eyes see nothing, my ears whistle like
the whirling of a top
"and sweat pours down me and a trembling creeps over
my whole body, I am greener than grass,
at such times, I seem to be no more than
a step away from death
"but all can be endured since even a pauper..."
Stories on this writing: On figuring out what this was referring to, the Christian fathers took measures to be sure the manuscript could not be easily disseminated. Some say a pope gave orders for all the poems to be burned.
Other matters: it is vital to understandings of this poet that the "poem" be understood not as we would think of a poem today, sans musical accompaniment, but as literally, lyric: this is a song--lyrics composed to music for performance.
Basically Sappho seems to be translated every five minutes, or so--which is to say, her work is of a kind that translators like for testing their discipline and mettle, as Chris Daniels indicates (email, March 2003, and June 27, 2003). Chris also notes how important is an understanding of prosody-poetic technique/sound-rhythm-patterns, which in her time were, and today still are, *awe inspiring* (email, June 27, 03). This poem is one of the most translated and disseminated. Consequently, there is a lot of variation in the rhetorical effect of this poem. I prefer this, Balmer's translation, because she has ironed out the syntax to make it relatively straight (compared to others), so meanings are maximized, more easily and quickly understood. This seems particularly important for this frequently misunderstood poet and her work--ie., any rigorous approach that aids understanding stands less chance, I think, of perpetuating myths that, inevitably, will develop around the writer and the work. Myths layering with life are not the problem. It is what human community does with such. In this case, 1500 years of disparagement for various reasons, many related to sexuality. *Oh, that.*
Sappho was greatly admired in her time and for 500 years after, by all the ancient scholars, in part for the acute sensuality and reverence for the body in general but also the female body evoked by her poems. Today's scholars believe this poem is one of the west's first highly detailed descriptions of the physical *symptoms* of what today is loosely called love or even the, um... *act* itself. I emphasize loosely, of course...
But love should not be confined--love should always be running around loose, no?
Sappho also refers in other works to that dallying god of love, Eros, as her *limb loosener.*
And: the west today has rewritten/misunderstood this woman poet in many ways, not least of which by misspelling her name which is Psappha--or that is how she probably wrote it (as is found in some lyrics on potsherds, though nothing in her own handwriting survives). Curiously, there are several instances in her works where she uses her own name--intances of self-address, in fact: "Who shall I persuade this time... Sappho?" (Balmer, #78 [L & P, #1]
chris at
11:52 AM
|
Blogger finally got done, packed up their tools and left.
Email's back, too, so looks like I'm a happy camper again.
chris at
11:13 AM
|
hello sllleeeeeeekkkkk new world. feels just like clean sheets.
chris at
11:08 AM
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chris at
11:05 AM
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Wednesday, June 25, 2003
for now if you want to reach me by email then try this new one:
cmrry88@aol.cm
chris at
7:41 AM
|
Blog/Tech/Probs :(
Okay. Hold on to your hats: first Blogger got jammed up so I couldn't post, then Technorati had a bunch of spam looking things in my cosmos, then UTA's server went down--I was connected through them by phone, so had to go find one of those free AOL things & install it & wait for all it's monkey biz to sort out.
Now here I am but don't know for how long (the AOL thing keeps kicking me offline). Now I see Blogger's giving notice that they might be shutting down blogs tonight for a while for some maintenance. I might just go & quietly read and forget all these tech headaches for a while. Sorry but there are better things to do in life than wait on techno stuff to sort out...
Za ZenYall
chris at
7:24 AM
|
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
Google search of the day, yielding Texfiles as First Choice:
Maureen + Down + Zombie + Love
cf the texfiles entry of June 16: "Keep on scrolling down, boys" : Maureen Dowd has something to say about the remake of the flick, *The Stepford Wives*"
I *love* it.
chris at
10:22 PM
|
News around Blogtowns, and Upcoming on Texfiles:
Stephen Vincent has been sharing with me via email some new poetry he's working on--not to be revealed just yet, but let me say it's some very WOW work, and I am picky about poetry. Stephen's new work is exciting: poetic language sounding-out like a kind of finely wrought, musical filigree... . Keep on, Stephen!
Intricacies of the poetic kind are of interest to me lately in the work of Mark Weiss, as well. As mentioned yesterday, I have Mark Weiss' Figures: 32 Poems, an exquisite work in writing *and* in its material, handiwork-form from Chax Press, which I will discuss here tomorrow. Til then, here are a few things to linger over:
XXV (by Mark Weiss)
A woman stands watching the waves. For hours
she stands watching them, her bare legs
reflected in the wet sand.
From time to time she kneels
into the retreating water,
harvests
something.
Of his poetry Mark writes (in an email, Sat. June 21) this tantalizing observation: "I suspect that all poetry is a form of possession... ."
Ah, now this is a poetry to be interested in. Poetry and Possession: how so, then?--"...the poem seems to come when it wants to... the field in which our possessed selves operates is the field we bring to the experience. And the momentary changes and impulses are directed by what comes before, but also by the changes in a bodily chemistry whose stability is always fragile. We learn, we enlarge the field, but it's still the field, and the physiology... ." Poems of body/chemistry. Envision as layered with like formulation, perhaps Whitman's "O love, solve all, fructify all to the last chemistry..." (Ashes of Soldiers).
A poetics of the body, then. Very nice--and nigh time, as many feminist theorists have been saying for a while now.
But, here on Texfiles, not until tomorrow!--more to come on Mark's exquisite poetry and poetics, then,
tomorrow...
chris at
11:46 AM
|
**Wondrous gift:**
Received in the Monday afternoon mail, from Chris Daniels, *On the Shining Screen of the Eyelids,* Brazilian Josely Vianna Baptista's poetry, with artwork by her husband, Francisco Faria. Translated by the incomparable Chris Daniels--a beautiful, highly acclaimed book published by Manifest Press). What a pleasure to read! Thank you, Chris, for all your great work!
I see where Kasey S. Mohammad at Limetree has made plans to review it in the next few days. I look forward to that!
chris at
11:02 AM
|
The I-know-it's-great-poetry-when-it-takes-the-top-of-my-head-off Department:
"Keep looking into Socratic methodism.
Sonatas for the piano..."--Jordan Davis, # 636
Million Poems
chris at
7:25 AM
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Monday, June 23, 2003
**Special Thanks** to Deborah Pattillo (Hi!) for reminding me to get back to the *Poetry!* And to Nick Piombino for the great constant stream of poetic readings--it really stirs up a reader's poetry-mind, or as they say upstairs in home furnishings department, the "semiotic chora"! I'm grateful to all who have taken the time to let me know what you think of this series of poems -- especially Stephen Vincent, Chris Sullivan, and Deborah (gosh you say such cool things!).
Tornado Alley Countdown Love: 96
The worst was street.
A Bible-belt August he
Bryll Creme bespectacled,
robed, columnar--a dry heat
need as in Rome or Faulkner.
O Bug-crawl, wasteland.
O Newsy conversions: milk
carton cherub cliches--asphalt to
asphalt. No book or milk carton
ever saved a soul you could have
said. Busy if not blue eyed
or crucifix & specious
mutterings over sacral
oils. This is the sound
of one hushed hand
fitting into another:
"Hurry." Never
is a place. Overhead,
the only door you could
expect sick with parasol
& stereotypical ceiling action--
Windsong granny scent
on the slow fan. Crawling,
low barometer figures.
You are supposed to love
how their stories wing it.
Below, the underhanded,
poetic rebels sever
themselves & abound
invisible as Fort Worth
train track light.
Or simply walking
in that light, as you--
just wondering--
what to forgive
of a cotton, holey chiasmus
rippling flag? They say
someone is always
pregnant, alone.
Staring uptrack.
Chris Murray
Tornado Alley Series
chris at
8:54 AM
|
Yao Ming's Meow just called to say
"Puurrrrrrrrrrrrr: Oh sooooo Very Clever.
You had better change your Crush List!":
Yao Ming's Meow likes both the sveldt real-time photo and the Superhero Action Figure
(really, Comic Book Doppelganger), Mad Thinker Mona Lisa Chris Sullivan from
Slight Publications!
You just have to check this out at Jim Behrle's:
Jismblog
I'm very sorry about this, Commisioner Gordon (Robert Creeley), but you may have to share your room with the Mona Lisa Mad Thinker Comic Book Doppelganger (Chris Sullivan). Some things just can't be helped, ya kno?
chris at
12:57 AM
|
Sunday, June 22, 2003
Coming soon: Some thoughts on *Figures: 32 Poems,* by Mark Weiss--beautiful poems beautifully made into a chapbook by Charles Alexander's Chax Press.
chris at
10:36 PM
|
Yay!! Happy ***Pings*** for Texfiles:
Thanks, Nick Piombino at fait accompli, and I can't wait to see that Crush List of Crush Lists!!
I note that some significant presences are absent from the Superheroes event:
what should be a few Superman spots
in the Action Figures are not posted: Nick,
could it be that some of the Best Blogging Superheroes have not yet
sent in their photos? :)
chris at
10:30 PM
|
Texfiles' Top Ten Poetic Super Hero Action Figures **Crush List**
(as the pics are posted tonight on Jim Behrle's Jismblog
--this is a list of current, *reading/comics preferences* only)
10. Nite Owl/ Dan Dreiberg (the man behind the mask) (Aaron Tieger)
9. Dazzler (formerly of the XMen) (Jennifer Moxley)
8. Medusa (wife of Black Bolt) (Nada Gordon--who I read at ululate
is down with the flu--I hope you feel better soon!)
7. The Punisher (Noah Eli Gordon)
6. Captain Marvel (of the Avengers) (Wanda Phipps)
5. Warlock (of the new mutants) (Brian Kim Stefans)
4. Scott Summers, Cyclops (of the X-Men) (Jordan Davis)
3. Janet Van Dyne, The Wasp (the Avengers) (Stephanie Young)
2. Tied!--Commissioner Gordon from Batman (Robert Creeley)
& Mad Thinker Comic Book Doppelganger Mona Lisa (Chris Sullivan)
1. ***The Thing! (but of course!--Jim Behrle)***
on the cusp:
(11.) Odin (father of the Mighty Thor) (Ron Silliman)
chris at
8:24 AM
|
Blogging Coup D' Etat,
Coup de Ville, Coup de Grace, Coup de Gras, and all that other max-cooey stuff:
I really don't think anyone is reading any blogs tonight except Jim's, but if anyone does happen to be reading this, then you just have to hurry over to Jismblog. He asked poets to send him photos, which he's posted alongside Superhero figures, "Look Alikes," he's matched the photos with. It's just a hoot... honestly, it's so much clever and sometimes risque fun, I can't stop laughing!
Aurora of Alpha Flight is my Look Alike Superhero Action Figure , and she's seen flying into, well... action!--but there are so many fun ones up it's hard to decide what to like best. I guess one of my favorites has to be Robert Creeley as Commissioner Gordon of Batman Comics.
I also audblogged a poem at Jim's tonight, "What's Given," so if you're into listening to me read, then go on over there and check that out, too.
I'm not usually much of a Top Ten Crush List maker. I have crushes on everyone poetic, all the time (I'm shameless that way), for uniquely differing reasons: check out my link list to get an idea of how ranking occurs to me, or really, doesn't much happen for me. Things just never distill into one specialty list in my thinking. But for this special event, I'll try one out:
See above for my Top Ten Poetic Super Hero Action Figure Look-Alikes Crush List (Action Figures for the list taken as posted tonight to Jim Behrle's Jism Blog):
chris at
7:11 AM
|
Hi to Fie Xie! I'm just now having some chrysanthemum tea and seaweed soft flour cakes. Very good stuff--thanks so much for introducing me to these wonders, Fei.
chris at
12:32 AM
|
Saturday, June 21, 2003
Calling All Gendered Squirrels:
super cchhhhhiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr------------sszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz to
Kasey S. Mohammad, who has a really, um, gender-smashing?--
devilish, LoL? one act play up,
On Being Feminine, at Limetree
(under the Thursday June 19th posting).
Check it out!--it's very vitamins D+C against cultural efficiencies, or life-long TV-ricketts and other real or symbolic adjustments to advertising and media, genderally...
tho my eyes grew tired listening while my ears continually recited all those refrains, you know how it is, uh, *totally*?--a little like being attacked by a honey-making swarm of commas only much louder and absolutely necessary for credibility of character.
Point made, I'm sure, merci & etc. One could stand on any corner of this campus and hear similarly vacuous Barbie material. But would it make one think more?--certainly not. No, I think it takes oustanding orchestration such as is found in this flarf play (if Barbie-baric, it wouldn't be orchestrated at all?...). No real Barbie could be as devilishly innocent as the Gretchen, OJ, and Kato characters who flarf it up here.
Also: check out 2 other delicacies seldom found outside the US: that nostalgia-evoking bruise-red/white/&blue-toned Jesus-surrounded-by-golden-abjects, and that dee-lish, oh-what-a-pickle embellished cheeseburger... . All in all, this *is* what comes of blogging dangerously, 008.
chris at
10:19 PM
|
Today's message from the Dalai Lama:
There is too much cruelty.
No angels on the head of this pin (and many marigolds to Chris S: see the photo of the Andradre angel pin up at
Slight Publ blog ) no not *pinup*--almost every piece of literature I have ever read was trying to say this (that cruelty sucks) in one way or another. Well, okay, many are in the *another* category, sure.
Me: Do we need to be reminded of this, Dalai Lama?
DL: Yes.
'nuff said.
chris at
10:10 PM
|
And now a message from the Dalai Lama:
"It is essential to know
that to be a happy person,
a happy family,
happy society,
it is very crucial
to have a good
heart."
chris at
2:12 AM
|
Friday, June 20, 2003
'How-Many-Angels-(angles?)-on-the-Head-of-a-Pin' Department:
Happiness in *Semiotic Seizure*
(neo-logic title phrasing-thanks to Kevin F. Sullivan via Chris Sullivan
Slight Publications blog)
Here is what western training
in argumentation can teach you
to do: The only problem I see
with what the Dalai Lama says above
is that if I happened to be unhappy
(& just for the record:
I am not unhappy--
or, I am happy--
for, now these 2 expressions
of a state of being
must condition one
another: for, contrary to surface
interpretations or implied meaning,
they do not mean
exactly the same thing
but change accordingly
with the mood implied
by the oppositional,
negative [double] turns in the one,
which, when coupled with the other
changes, therefore also changes both
states & shades of meaning
once again through the almost
unnoticeable compression
of comparison so that it can
never be only itself, again,
ever, as a simple assertion:
*I am happy*--but yes, and no, *I*
*am* a reasonably *happy* person--
and this little meander does not even
begin yet to approach related or
completely different things that occur
when grammar and especially
syntax are changed: think about it:
*Reasonably happy, a person I am.*
& etc and if you are still with me then
we are about to step back outside
this revolving parenthetical door as soon
as it once again reaches the slit in the
glass that leads from this hotel to the sidewalk
where we can hail a cab and be done
with this circling inside the threshold
for surely we have settled our bill
and paid for our extravagances of
phone and minibar, extra thick
towels, feather pillow, fleece blanket
(necessary when the air conditioning is too high
or is it low?--how should that be referred to?--I've
always wondered, but yes, here we are now
and the doorman has lent us his kind, gloved hand
to gently extract us from there to here: oh we
are so lucky and privileged to have such a doorman)
But who would admit it?--
since the understated assumption
in the enthymeme is that if unhappy,
then one has not a good heart. But I know I
do have a good heart, so where would I then
be?--what kind of strange,revolving limbo is this
that even the master Rinpoche, Sir ZaZen,
could not or would not approach
or allow to be entered as a named
and spoken affect/effect in the of,
of figuration? This is why,
in China, to be sure good luck
follows the newly married,
numerous ways of showing
the character-embrace,
"double happiness,"
are placed everywhere
the newlywed couple goes:
especially on the vehicles
they use to move between places
like the church if they dare to go
to one for their marriage
or the party's office
(or the wedding party!)
because being in-between
places makes goodness
& therefore happiness,
more vulnerable. Though
also, more valuable.
chris at
10:58 PM
|
Announcement:
YaY!!! a Poetry Blog Conference coming up in Cambridge, Mass, July 19-20--should be lots of fun! I'm doing my best to get things together so I can go, also because it will be a chance for me finally to meet some of the brilliant east coast poetry folks (and, I hear, at least one brilliant west coast poet, too: Stephanie Young will be there!) so I really look forward to this landmark event for poetry and blogging.
Like so many new, productive connections being made in and about poetry, this is being organized and promoted by Jim Behrle. Jim's also been doing overtime contemplation lately on the theory and practice of Pinks so he will have some important research findings to announce very soon. Check Jism Blog for more details on both these major po-events...
chris at
6:37 AM
|
Blogger zapped the Sappho stuff--some good commentary and half a poem went down just as I went to post. But that's nothing new to Sappho's texts, historically speaking, or to Blogger, ever--a little Terminator must be built-in here somewhere.
I guess one way to think about it is that Blogger really isn't like a Terminator at all. No, with its predicability rate lately, it's more like an Equalizer (no matter the text or its importance, all will be zapped at Blogger's whim). Or on a little further stretch: Energizer (*it just keeps on zapping,* so hurry, type fast and post before it realizes what you are up to...)
chris at
6:30 AM
|
Thursday, June 19, 2003
Maybe a little Sappho here to boost things a few degrees:
chris at
7:52 PM
|
Wah:
It's like a Shackleton expedition in here: outside it's like 90 degrees, but in here I'm sitting in my thick-teddy-bearish-fleece jacket shivering because the bbbbbrrrrrrr central aaaiiiirrrrrrrrconditconditconditconditioningchatttttttterrrrrrringbbbbbrrrr is turned way down: I swear it must be 55 in here. Yesterday it took me 2 hours to warm up when I went home--I think I had hypothermia--from air conditioning. I hate air conditioning. I'd rather be out in the heat! They have crews in here working on the building (my office is in the campus' ten storey library, which is a mini sky scraper-like structure) so for some good reason (um, this is where logic fails) they have the air turned way down. I'm about to abandon ship, call in the sled dogs, rush over to any ice hut that has a fire inside.
Whew. That was a good rant but I'm not getting any warmer. And: I have to go to the dentist today. Can I just regress completely here and have a good cry? I don't want to be cold, and I really don't want to go to the dentist.
There, that's not any better but now you all know how much of a baby I am and what environmental and anticipatory conditions bring it out. I just had to say wah. Wah.
chris at
7:47 PM
|
Chris S: that special *windows* program you're running is much better than most. Hold on to your Sharpies!
ZaZen Y'alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
############################!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
chris at
3:39 PM
|
This next piece is lengthy, and many are already bored with this topic, I feel, but it must be answered. If you would like, do scroll down to the post about Deborah Pattillo's blog from yesterday: very fine stuff, Deborah!
chris at
9:35 AM
|
About *Poetic Comfort Zones* or Not: discussion is always a very nice exercise:
Chris Lott has been visiting here at texfiles and has posted a response on his blog, Ruminate to what I wrote here on Saturday, June 14. I wasn't directly addressing him, but certainly quoting him and delving into his ideas, so it's good of him to respond. He has Ruminate nicely set up for comments to be posted onsite. I won't do that here, this time, though I greatly admire it since it is a far more dialogic mode. Dialogic can be wonderfully democratic, no? Of course, it can also be a way to lose track of important threads via a kind of dialogic excess or logic-barrage, too. I think I, for this kind of discussion--since it is already overburdened with complex notions and allusive definitions--prefer smaller sound-bites when trying to sort through complex matters of consequence or argumentatively persuasive stakes. Also, an argument must have exigence to continue, and perhaps the moment for this aspect of this issue has passed.
But I will address what I see as relevant and then I will be done with this thread, Chris. First off, though, this: yes, you can call me Chris and I will reciprocate. Here's to the Chrises, then, all of them, and may they all avert crises, love happily & peacefully wherever they are in life and world!
So, as for the problem mulled over in your post, Chris: I am glad you responded. I see the incisive pluck with which you discover and frame the response. Well done in that regard. I am not persuaded to change my train of thought, however, because what you posted expands only on one thing, and that thing was not a primary interest in my thinking-through-writing in Saturday's post. Rather, it is a problem of semantic choices and definitional slipperiness only: that of the term, "stasis," when really what I wrote was focused to deeper exposition of the problem of assuming a predetermined "comfort zone."
My position is that poets in avant mode do not usually have, and most likely cannot afford such *comforts,* although poets in SoQ mode (as I read it defined and elaborated by Ron Silliman) might be likely to assume there should be a *comfort zone,* or they may adopt for themselves a *comfort zone.* But is it necessary and what does it do for the work of poetry? Often what seems to accompany such *comfort zone* is an insular and exclusive attitude to the social spheres inside and outside the disciplinary field, as well as having a mouldering affect on the writing via practices that take care to protect the *comfort* rather than activate the edge to keep the writing sharp and socially pertinent: useful. As with anything, though, it is never as simple as this sketch may be making it seem.
Sure, there are limits to use of the term, stasis. It sounds as if in your opinion, stasis is inapplicable to the problems between an SoQ and an avant because definitionally you (and some unnamed authorities you mention) consider the concept of "stasis" moot. There are schools of thought where no doubt it is moot, and if it is not elsewhere, then maybe it should be! But things are not so easy, I think. It has a legacy, just as any idea from a tradition does. Just because you or another authority might say it is moot does not make it so or erase its legacy and influence from our conceptualizations, our western history of rhetoric and collective consciousness on this problem, or on poetics more generally and contemporaneously. It's okay with me if we use a different term, but I'm not sure what it might be, hence, I settled for stasis: but whatever term is used to refer to this phenomenon, it, too, will have to carry the same load in alluding to the *quietude* of comfort that attaches to canons, and the exclusionary actions of canonizing that close off options in an effort to conserve an illusion of a status quo--thus the problems therein which *avant* modes, once again, would at least counterbalance if not outright alter in course, given the chance (though institutional-academic marshalling of training and validation for creative writing/writers more and more excludes this chance, it seems).
But here are some notes on terms, and then I am done with this thread--do what you like with it:
--poetic tradition has a connotation of stasis in western conceptualizations, largely because *history* was understood and promoted as a limited, exclusive source for so long--this is historical materialism's contribution poetics. Granted, this more static perspective is changing, but here we are, mid-term, and look what's happening, as Ron Silliman keeps pointing out: quietude seems here to stay.
--even if stasis were not the most apt term, it nonetheless suggests how slowed and slowing is the urge to canonize in western concepts and disciplinary categorizing, so some heed might usefully be taken there.
--likewise is suggested a resistance to change, aka, butting up against or being incorporated into stasis.
--when in the fourth to last of my paragraphs I say "static illusions" I mean the canonizing done in the traditions of poetry. This could simply have been expressed as canonizing (so to clarify).
--somewhere near the end of the piece it was useful for me to think, although shamelessly reductively, of stasis as like a noun: a thing that cannot move easily on its own, let's say. And of avant as a verb, which is by definition, then, action. They can also work together as we know... in the *sentence.* So human am I, and reasonable, and happy. These are important things.
Other than that, let me say again that all uses of language are subject to an essential and inescapable meaninglessness, with or without Derrida. One way to think of that is simply, ZaZen. Another is *It jus be's that way.* There are others.
My best to you, Chris Lott.
Chris Murray
chris at
8:02 AM
|
A very big Hi to Deborah Pattillo at Chimera Song Mosaic where, in today's posting, you can find an excellent literary review of Oscar Casares' new story collection, *Brownsville*--or if you prefer, you can just find a whole lot of provocative stuff about life in southern Texas, as found in today's stories. I really enjoyed this reading Deborah--Thanks!
chris at
6:28 AM
|
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Gubernatorial:
Heather Gillette, who hates poetry,
says she likes TAC#97 (the poem just below).
She likes it because of gubernatorial
which is "the dumbest, damn funny word"
she has "EVER heard"
as a reference for *governor*:
"Well, it's half *guber*
and half *natorial* so should
mean the birth of some kind
of peanut but instead
can refer to the election
of the governor of my state (Texas)?
Damn." I say, yes, well, that's Latin
for you.
chris at
11:41 AM
|
Tornado Alley Countdown Love: 97
a mini bumper
car coasting I
can ride & walk
away from, with
a bouquet of store
bought heart
balloons tied to your
I, my pinky,
here comes another
hegemony
sounding so
gubernatorial
north or border
patriarchal Xs
not to be confused
with Xss
or Xs & Ohs
or even ZZZs
for your plehszjhaa
Chris Murray, Tornado Alley Series
chris at
11:32 AM
|
A warm Hello! to Chris Sullivan of 8letters blog where you will find, among many fascinating things, that the best part of the latest research in Algebra can be classified as (my preference:) chocolate chip. Chris has been reading Texfiles and has sent me a thank you note for my writing of Sat., June 14, which attempted to explain and preliminarily to explore the problematics of an "SoQ," an avant, & a poetic "comfort zone" via readings from blogs of Ron Silliman and Chris Lott. It's really good to hear that such lengthy endeavor in writing is appreciated: thanks, Chris.
Here are 2 poetic cool shots from Chris Sullivan that I have to share:
One is on Chris' blog for yesterday: "semiotic seizures (thanks to Kevin F. Sullivan for the coin)"--which is, as I take it, a general ref to poetic writings: exactly right yet not, thus perfect!
The other cool shot describes the kind of quandary that blogginess causes: "Poetry Blog Imbroglio"
Keep On, Chris S!
chris at
7:21 AM
|
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
My students are working on Walt Whitman now and Emily Dickinson next. They've been doing collaborative work in small groups and pairs. They give their results on Whitman tomorrow. So far it looks like they're into it. This class is composed mainly of college sophmores. I'm a little baffled because mostly they've never read Whitman (why is that?), so they're a little floored just by sheer volume: *Did he write, like, all the time or something?* *Why is there no focus to these writings?* *Are these really poems?* &c. They've heard of him, just never read him (in high school?). Do high schools not teach Whitman now? (um, where am I?) The students have expressed shock: *Walt Whitman was GAY?* This happens every time I teach this course. So does this:
When we discussed (after Frederick Douglass) Mary Rowlandson the other day ("A Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson"), one perky fellow admitted how relieved he was that we finally read and could discuss something about how *hard life must have been for white people--I mean, let's be realistic here: sometimes they were kidnapped and made into slaves, too.*
Is it just Texas, or some Xfiles cultural-effect, or the proximity to Area 51, too many fireflies in the Marfa nights, or just plain old identity crisis at Texarkana, or what?
Okay, I'll stop harping on Texas now. I know: New York, Calif., AZ, Boston, Chicago, Key West, or most any place, would probably be the same. As in, it's not just a result of a given *place* which is in part my lesson. Am certainly looking forward with great anticipation now, to the rest of my lesson.
chris at
9:39 PM
|
The Hay(na)ku contest is going strong over at
Eileen Tabios' Wine Poetics Blog
Submit your poems, now!
chris at
8:25 AM
|
Monday, June 16, 2003
Hey Nick! Got links! Thanks for offering to help :)
fait accompli
chris at
8:45 PM
|
Tornado Alley Countdown Love: 98
Silk scarf of red blood is bold
Embrace waves of aphorisms
necessary until your dreds ache
in one moreso recitation, undone,
A stocking cap equivocating the tight
as will tight stocking caps
For better or worse, abortion holds
out for a better May & this your cry
is your first teacher, your knowing:
this vacuum does not mean noise
It means "alone" does not care what
you mean shaking your head
back and forth in the red of voice
Avant Cher world la-la radio beige
of pressed linens here in # 109
with the round gunmetal lipped
wastebasket, box of kleenex,
effusive nurse handing you valium,
tiny pineapple seeming popsicles,
excessive eye-words
In case you need to think
about something else.
Chris Murray Tornado Alley Series
chris at
6:47 AM
|
You have no idea how much I love sound.
Then again, the sound of the human voice.
Thanks. You rock!
chris at
6:22 AM
|
"Peace is not just the absence of violence
but the manifestation of human compassion."--Dalai Lama
chris at
6:14 AM
|
Lower Lip of the Zombie Meter:
Roll out yr private jets & keep on scrolling down, boys,
the Stepford Wives are back!
chris at
12:20 AM
|
Well, see below for several posts, and I don't want to rock any copyright parties at all but these observations from today's Maureen Dowd column are irresistible:
"Martha Stewart (a haywire robot with a team of lawyers) led women — and culture — back to the wifely arts of cooking, gardening, decorating and flower arranging. Hillary Clinton, once so angry about tea and cookies, is now so eerily glazed and good-natured that she could be the senator from Stepford."
[But I'm sure many more very fun things could have been said about Martha--your'e a little too tame, there, Maureen.]
&
"As Mr. Rudnick slyly points out: "Men and women are working in tandem to create the Stepford wife of tomorrow. Once the technology advances, there'll be a Botox babe who runs on solar power."
Whooowheeee, Maaureeeeennnn! Rock on:
YaY!! Finally. A useful answer to one of cultural critic Gayatri Spivak's most penetrating questions of the 90s: Technology: "What is it **for**?"
chris at
12:17 AM
|
Sunday, June 15, 2003
Hey, How's Your Zombie-Meter?
chris at
11:55 PM
|
Relevance for Poetry & Sample of what caught Maureen Dowd's critical eye:
The new screen writer, Paul Rudnick, "notes that the 'embedded biology' of romantic fantasies has not changed: 'Men want a babe and don't care about her earning power. Women want a rugged poet or musician with a private jet.' "
Um... sure: gather ye private jets while ye may...
chris at
11:47 PM
|
zzzzooowwwie & zounds, batgirl: Hot Zombie Love: Hollywood is doing a remake of that classic bougie anxiety-woman flick, The Steppford Wives. Well, of course--now's the time. What else?--perfect for a neo-con audience: but, ya kno, shouldn't they have remade it 3 years ago around election time? Maureen Dowd has a few delightful things to say about it in her editorial, "Hot Zombie Love,"out in today's NYTimes, editorial/op-ed page.
chris at
11:32 PM
|
There goes Jim Behrle: not only "a good poet," as you say, Jim & as is most desired, just the finest of today's promoters for poetry. Thanks for all you do to keep poetry going strong.
Jism Blog
chris at
8:29 AM
|
Some thoughts on the question of poetic "comfort zones":
Over at Ron Silliman's blog, a dust devil's been whirling around. It's about perceptions of what Mr. Silliman* has defined and explained as the "school of quietude (SoQ)," on the one hand, and the survival of an American poetic (post) avant-garde, on the other. Various aspects of current and historical reception--and, no less, poetic practices--hang in the balance of difference between these.
Along comes Chris Lott at Ruminate Blog (who's actually been around for some time now: unless I have it wrong somehow, he several years ago was part of a partnership that started one of the earliest ezines: Eclectica.org), a very incisive thinker and strong voice on the poetic storm front (he seems to have a decent amount of good will, even if he messes up at times, making really bad choices in joking over folks' names, for which he then apologizes). Mr. Lott** seems to be asking for things to be perceived a little more integratedly, sort of a "can't we all just get along?" song, with his hypothesizing the figure of a "spectrum" to size up the scene that Mr. Silliman has described as divided in two main directions.
So, a spectrum can be of sound or color or quarks or all of these. Where one of these two, Mr. Silliman, divides the poetic world in two opposing colors, let's say, the other, Mr. Lott, would reconstitute this world in terms more like a rainbow coalition. Um... yes, Jesse J!--beginning to sound familiar?--maybe quarks are a better metaphor since once again some limits of the analogy are being manifested. But my additional point is that these are not new themes/conceptualizations in current world(s) of analysis, and each will have limitations. They are part of a larger bundle of cultural problematics, "symptoms" (if metaphors of cultural dis-ease are a factor) or "tools" (as in taking hold of what the so-called "master" has left laying around to be picked up and used to "dismantle" any unquestioned fealties or easy assumptions of ideals) as they are referred to in other critical venues and discourses. Rhetorically the problem is that the very definitions of the problems are affected by the ineffectiveness of language (in symbolizing) to be adequate to the real life (social) actions committed by language users, and vice versa (language is apriori, &c). Language can't do much but it's all we have to begin to try with (a useful reminder that Tim Yu also pointed out recently). That's always an on-going source for wonder and discussion, of course.
This got very complicated at Mr. Silliman's blog this week. What fascinated me most after the comprehensive analysis so far is this idea of a poetic "comfort zone" which pops up in two ways in Lott's discussion. It first appears as unquestionably posited, something possessed, naturally, by every artist; thus, in this context, assumedly it is possessed whether one is from the SoQ or the (post) avant positioning in the "spectrum." Mr. Lott says: "I'm sure there are artists of every stripe who want nothing to do with work that is outside their comfort zone" (posted as quoted to Mr. Silliman's blog on Thurs., June 12). After asserting this possession of a comfort zone, Mr. Lott tears it up in favor of showing some (albeit negative) common ground between these artists from the differing parts of the "spectrum," though the assertion of a naturalized and naturalizing "comfort zone" remains like a ghost to be made strange friends with (if one is an artist, eg., poet). He then comments that for all artists, therefore, the response to change is that they find it "disconcerting to be jarred out of [their] comfort zone."
This is in some ways a useful figure: "comfort zone"--calling to mind critical takes as wide ranging as scholar & cultural critic Mary Louise Pratt' s notion of the dynamics involved in "contact zones," Mary Englebritt's hugely successful line of T-shirts and other products displaying a comforting aphoristic yet somewhat radicalizing humor ("Life is just a chair of bowlies!"), and pop-psych takes on things such as "Co-dependent No More!" (don't know the author, tho I'm sure it's easy to find: I was in Barnes and Nobles here the other day and they had shelves of this and related materials prominently displayed, which says something but maybe only about this area?--tho I can't be sure what...). Mr. Lott uses the term to indicate how his "comfort zone" about poetry has been disrupted by notions of divisiveness in the tradition. Without disparaging any good energies the concept of a "comfort zone" offers, I think it's also useful to keep in mind how very contingent is is this notion--how very contingent, indeed, are such ways of characterizing what can be done with disputes and conceptualization, generally. I have to ask: what "comfort zone" is there in poetry? And if there is one, then how can it really be poetry? (which of course puts me not in the SoQ school, if that is an adequate representation of what's happening in poetry...).
To question this comfortable way of thinking seems to be where Mr. Silliman goes with his critique of Mr. Lott's conceptualizing, and Mr. Silliman's direction partly results, in turn, from another incisive response (from Ange Mlinko, posted to Mr. Silliman's blog June 12, also discussed with appropriate edginess on Friday, June 13, at Henry Gould's HG Poetics blog). Mr. Silliman deftly points out a major problem in Mr. Lott's concept of the "spectrum," in that tradition is not a static thing but indicates, rather, only a range of stances toward change. One major problem with the SoQ is the stance it takes that its static sense of tradition be taken as more authoritative, or "more traditional" than others.
Point is, I think, that yes, to know a tradition seems to require a little bit of "comfort" in the process of knowing (or the illusion of such?), perhaps, or one cannot ever assert and confirm what is known. But to desire an entire "zone" of comfort really is to desire to deny not only the changeable, transformative elements by making them seem static, but to ignore that these things exist as completely fluid: poetry and those who make it by questioning it (taking "a stance toward change," as Mr. Silliman points out) will not be found sitting still in a circle holding hands to make it all feel better or its makers find comfort in fluid conditions of existance versus static illusions, I am sorry to remind. I do not want to antagonize, here. Only to try to clarify and point out a misconception that if continued, would perpetuate a very unproductive set of illusions: even the so called "tradition," in many ways is an illusion, although necessary, I suppose, as a point of departure. The "avant" will always take a skeptical view toward stasis, and embrace change, ususally through high risks of one kind or another, and surprisingly, even the subtle can be risky sometimes.
What seems especially important is to continually question--and here I think of Nick Piombino's fine work in blog writing at fait accompli, the fine work in posting so many of his ongoing questionings over many years, of what is/was going on in the flow of poetry and his thinking, in the mindset that has an affinity for poetry, as well as an abundance of the cultural and philosphical questionings that accompany inclusive perspectives on poetry and poetic mindset. That questioning completely resists easy categorizing, especially in terms of the unfortunate figure, the "comfort zone." Nick Piombino's blog exemplifies what it is to work without a comfort zone--an important kind of fluid questioning and awe-inspiring approach to poetry and poetics, though of course his blog is also no less full of good will and is very inviting, as well.
So, let me say what I really got out of reading--and am grateful for--in Mr. Silliman's and Mr. Lott's blogs this week: I now have a better understanding of the useful notion of a "School of Quietude" as it can be applied to previously unfathomable (to me) cultural phenomena such as that of Billy Collins--not so much as a person attracting popular appeal--no, the mystery there for me is that he seems to have so much authoritative sway, thus to have created new ground in American poetic authority. Understanding this as a consequence of SoQ and its institutional manifestations is most helpful to me as a thinker right now. As for Mr. Lott, at this point I simply thank him for his pluck--it takes a lot of pluck to walk into these venues and speak ones mind so well (blogging)--I think he's doing that and it's his pluck that gets the job done.
Finally, the essential working difference between the "SoQ" and the poetic avant?--the SoQ seems to promote satisfaction with its brand of status quo, which is also conceptually a place of stasis. This means a certain kind of death, death of energy, death of fluidity, death of physical legacies and connections... the list goes on. Thus, a big problem. But avant may not be so easy to see or to define--it resists, is by definition, then, action: a verb not a noun! And that is the point--not so much to capitalize on resistance-as would modernism, as to emphasize how resistance occurs: the avant is resistant because it questions. Continually. If the SoQ resists anything, it is question in and of itself. Therefore, to keep poetry alive and well, avant is most desirable since poetry is meant to be physical, _lively_ ( or, _soundy_, as in Jordan Davis' millions! millions!) and to be a continual kind of larger, cultural questioning.
*Having never communicated directly with Ron Silliman, I will refer to him as Mr. Silliman.
**The same goes for Chris Lott. I do not know him, so have referred to him as Mr. Lott.
chris at
7:29 AM
|
Saturday, June 14, 2003
Tornado Alley Countdown Love: 99
Love cloud-to-cloud
overdrama as in
do not bother
with ohing wooden
buttons tiny
gazebos
of talk or science
enclosed violet
lattice work rose & slick
concrete--
flow--rainshower
skin & lingual
Chris Murray Tornado Alley Series
chris at
10:39 AM
|
Another reason to Recall Billyness:
When Jordan Davis cracks an egg, millions of soundy things grab their bags and fall in line...
www.millionpoems.blogspot.com
chris at
9:54 AM
|
Friday, June 13, 2003
Ha! Banner at Tympan.blogspot.com: *Recall* Billy Collins!
YaY: another place for no more Billyness,
thanks to Tim Yu!
chris at
10:28 PM
|
Latest breaking news: compose some Hay(na)ku poems for the contest at Eileen Tabios' blog, winepoetics. Extra-fine prizes being offered, as in BOOKS!
chris at
4:56 PM
|
Happy Philippine Independence Day to Eileen Tabios and all the !!GREAT POETS!! who have posted poems to Eileen's blog.. Hop over there to enjoy some Hay(na)ku Poems:
www.winepoetics.blogspot.com
chris at
10:13 AM
|
Yours truly: Happy me in a photo up at Jim's!
Couldn't get the scanner to work right at my office so went over to Kinko's to get it scanned and sent. That's Kinko's--not kinky's :)
It 's a favorite picture, and there aren't many of me around here since I'm usually the one taking the pictures.
Check it out:
www.jism.blogspot.com
chris at
1:23 AM
|
Thursday, June 12, 2003
This is all part of my plan to learn Googlese so I can translate blogspot searches more effectively. See below: Google needs help, but I'm happy if one of my fundamental elements is "+ wave" yes... plus wave, as in the action, waving (see photo at Jim B's) or wave: those motions essential to and governing the flow of being...
chris at
9:48 AM
|
I'm going to try writing a letter to Rutger Hauer.
I want to see if he'll consider being, at the very least, a poetic mascot, if not a candidate for Poet Laureate.
Really. Who knows?--Maybe he's got a secret poem stowed away in a diary somewhere... hmmm...
chris at
9:21 AM
|
News on the Recall Billy Collins Campaign:
Possible motto: Everything *is* the way it seems.
Hey, all you Poet Laureate voters, how about this: look, Schwartzennegger (did you know that Arnold's is a name that requires a new spelling every time it is typed?) gets all the big roles. It's really not fair. Remember how much pathos Rutger Hauer put into those dying poetic lines of his in Blade Runner? I'm thinking he'd make a good run for the money in the Poet Laureate primaries, anyway. Whaddya say? GO RUTGER HAUER!! Keep rockin' those poetic lines!!!
chris at
9:18 AM
|
Touchy Feely Car Alarm:
It's raining here; earlier this evening it felt like tornados could happen at any moment. (Herb Levy! please tell me:--is this typical of mid-June?)
Someone's car out in the parking lot outside my place has one of those old, really polite and touchy feely car alarms. Every time a big plop of rain falls on the car it says "You are too close to the vehicle--**please** [con mucho gusto] move away."--and I'm thinking, would that I could. But I am not quite done with Texas yet.
The best, tho, was earlier when there was a lot of lightning and thunder. The polite car alarm voice kept repeating, "Help. I was tampered with. Squeal-squeal-blurt-blam! Call the police. Help. I was tampered with... squeal-squeal-blurt-blamm! "
This car alarm situation doesn't even rate comparison with old flicks uselessly critical of useless technologies, ya kno? **Help. This car is a mutant dinosaur. Squeal-squeal-blurt-blamm. Help. Please call Rutger Hauer...**
chris at
8:53 AM
|
If you are getting hungry and would like to try out some very nice recipes, check out
www.candyboots.com
chris at
8:43 AM
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Google search yielding Texfiles as choice number 3:
mad + hatter + wave + files
Um... Google's certainly got its logic down pat ...
But YEAH!!!! We *are* lovin' to rrrrrrrriiiide that [uh-huh] WWWWWWWWWWWWaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaave, tho.
chris at
4:10 AM
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Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Mostly the academic intros to authors are big adenoidal vibratory material. But hey--have faith!--someone at Norton is bumping around in the Rhetorica of mass appeal! Of course, they have to be very hush, low-key-subtle about it--can't really let on that pop culture has far more impact (maybe think eminem when you think satire, on poetrylist?) on audience than they ever will.
So they're a little Frankenstein in the nascence of it, but being so very sveldt lately when introducing Am-lit's canon of stars: not only have they positioned Frederick Douglass' texts right between those 2 other lit-cult-sexy (in some folks' opinions...) figures, Thoreau and Whitman (as opposed to being sandwiched between Mark Twain and Charlotte Perkins Gilman: there might be a little dissonance there) which gives Douglass an extra shot of cultural capital, they make him out to sound as if he's positively the (pick one:) Jim Carey, Sean Connery, Busta Rimes, **Jim Behrle** (YaY!!!complete with birthday party hat) or Buffy the Vampire Slayer of his day:
"There is ample evidence to support the view that Douglass was a powerful speaker. One of his admirers described him thus:
**He was more than six feet in height, and his majestic form, as he rose to speak, straight as an arrow, muscular, yet lithe and graceful, his flashing eye, and more than all, his voice, that rivaled [Daniel] Webster's in its richness, and in the depth and sonorousness of its cadences, made up such an ideal of an orator as the listeners never forgot.** Surely, no one in Rochester, New York [Yay!!! my first hometown: home of Kodak irradiated rivers!!], who heard Douglass's speech "The Meaning of July Fourth for the Negro" on July 5, 1852, was likely to have forgotten what his biographer William S. McFeely has characterized judiciously as "perhaps the greatest antislavery oration ever given." --Norton's Am Lit, 6th Ed. (2031)
Um, *surely* here is academic-speak for making Douglass something of an *Aaaallllllllllrrrriiiiiiiiiiiightteeeeeee, THEN*
chris at
7:06 PM
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well Blogger just zapped me. I had a long post explaining some things about my problem with Billyness, but Blogger ate it. Just go check out the archives at wom-po list for yesterday and today. Start with a post by Marilyn Hacker, then some from me and some others, including Alicia Ostriker, who seemed displeased with something I said about Alexander Pope. And Katha Pollit posted something about the Poet's Corner that Wheatley is being considered for. I'm swearing off listservs for a while. They're becoming very draining. I really don't give a rat's ass about Pope. But Billy Collins in his capacity as Poet Laureate shouldn't be shooting his mouth off dissing Phillis Wheatley, either. He said her work is like something from a student out of Pope's workshop. Whatever that means.
chris at
10:50 AM
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My anthem in sympathy with the complexities of being a poet laureate: clowns to the left of me, jokers to right: here I am, stuck in the middle with you: everything *is* the way it seems...
chris at
9:16 AM
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Tympan.blogspot.com, Hey! Thanks--yes, we're taking up a collection here to purchase new puppet-poet-laureates, preferably with strings for better coordination and operation. Billy Collins has once again fallen down on the job, looking like he has no backbone or clue at all. Pity--his poetry is so yawny around the room, yah. And when he takes off Emily Dickinson's clothes we can't wait to hear what he'll find, much less what he's looking for. Probably just more chocolate chip cookies. You know how she is about that: latest gossip is, she'll lower her basket of cookies to anyone. Don't you all just love poet gossip? How about those Phillis Wheatley stories: what's good for Thomas Jefferson is good for Billy, too: if they say Wheatley's poetry is middling, then it must be so, right?
chris at
9:11 AM
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Tuesday, June 10, 2003
"Celestial choir!" How about a little extreme choir?
Phillis Wheatley:
"Improve your privileges while they stay,
Ye pupils, and each hour redeem, that bears
Or good or bad report of you to Heav'n.
...Suppress the deadly serpent in its egg.
Ye blooming plants of human race divine,
An Ethiop tells you tis your greatest foe...
chris at
11:46 PM
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So, what's the problem?--no one around here wants any Billyness?
chris at
11:36 PM
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Instead of that old TV show (why don't they show this one on rerun anymore??), Queen for a Day, where housewives got to compete to see who had the most Queeniness, can we have a chance to play Billy Collins for a Day?--to see who has the most Billyness?
chris at
9:27 AM
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Unless You Are Spoken
Here is nighttime again
with it's two ts cozying
up between night & time,
clamoring as will any
bent syntax to be listened for
in a nook of light or to be light--
where all in a day you're reminded
of Salem & bergamot, of My Lai
& burning bodies in rainbow,
the book of rainbow,
the bettas of rainbow
in black & blue performing
all possible womb-like words,
facing one another in separte globes,
cutting & spooked as hell
to spool out the bodies & stories
of floating lives, jars overfull
of diced whys spiced lightly
of tarragon leaves floating chill
in the unopened, sleek necks
of the vinegar stores, the vinegar
a potential, a stinging of all wounds,
bitter in consonant & tiny end hook: t,
going about its business,
squared off, jangling its speaking
rules & rings of house keys,
telling the Nicaraguan
housemaid: yes, hospital
corners, there & don't speak
unless you are spoken
to. To.
chris murray
chris at
9:12 AM
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hasta
bruhahahahaha,
nighttime!
chris at
12:56 AM
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Dear Deity,
why is so much that matters governed by mediocrity?
thanks for your speedy reply,
chris
chris at
12:55 AM
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Can we vote Billy Collins out of office the same way we can vote George B out? --or is it sort of the same problem: most people's votes don't get counted or just plain don't count at all...
sigh
chris at
12:54 AM
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Congrats to Chris Daniels: I see on David Hess' blog, Heathens in Heat, that Kent Johnson has raved on the UBUweb list about Chris Daniels' translation of Joseley V Baptista's poetry. Big congratulations to Chris D who works really hard to get everything just right. Happy success, Chris!
chris at
12:52 AM
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The students were really on it today. Anne Bradstreet: they wrote the book. Then, Cotton Mather, that old coot. "The Wonders of the Invisible World, " & "A People of God in the Devil's Territories," indeed. How about a little fungus in the rye, eh, Salem? Love that Nova special. Students rocked today. Introduced Phillis Wheatley to get ready for tomorrow. Then came back here to my office to check email and found an interesting message from the Wom-po list: Billy Collins disses Phillis Wheatley. How much cleverness does that take? She's only 2+ centuries dead. More on that tonight, folks.
chris at
12:48 AM
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Monday, June 09, 2003
Hmmm... Today's poetry news: Billy Collins says, in effect, that Phillis Wheatley's poetry is not worthy of commemorating because (in Collins' view) imitative. GRRRRRR
chris at
11:20 PM
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Sunday, June 08, 2003
Searching for overdue library books in a stack right here.
Having crysanthemum tea & seaweed flour cakes.
These cakes do not sound very good, I know. But they really are tasty.
My son (he's 16) emailed me just now. He's doing well on his new adventure.
He's getting paid a whopping $6/hour to clean his father's yard.
Of course that's way better than $0 to clean your own room...
Love ya, Sweetie.
Maybe today should be cliche day here:
for starters (in case I hadn't gotten this important point yet), money
moneymoneymoneymoneymoneymoneymonopolymonopolymonopolyreallyreallyreally
does make the world go 'round.
As in, things get a little circular--you know, repetitious!
Another cliche (aphorism): *that's just the way it is*
Not to be confused with *nothing's the way it seems,* Madonna's chorus from a recent CD my daughter plays, well,
over and over.
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