chris at
1:51 PM
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from Reyes Cardenas, a moving poem to read while moving--Reyes posted this to the comments box below (it's also posted at cafecafepoetry dot com), in the entry where I had mentioned waiting for the movers to show up after their truck broke down.
Hey, Reyes, Thanks!--this poem is a cool riot: cool language play, and in pitch building the serendipitous actions of language to a poetic comedy on the level of a semiotic/sound riot. There is no little political edge suggested in its combinations, as well, at least in how I'm reading it. I really enjoyed this.
Henry’s Over New York City With John Keats As Paul McCartney
The bacteria in his lungs, laundry, lumber,
the Mohawk construction workers, Wookie, wee,
Fanny had a skirt skated, Scranton,
Albany upstate earthquake motor many Moe.
He could take beauty and roll it, mold it, fold it,
in the pockets of his mind, coalmine, unwind,
she stood by his side today, tomorrow, Tomas,
language lizard volcano memory mention Millions.
John thought words grew out of lyrics, land, Lubbock,
guess he never saw sand, Shropshire, Sammy,
the mirror in his own face, fathom, flying,
foolhardy Chapman marbles garbled,
Empire State Building shaking, parrots, plumber, Paul.
John Keats walks across Abbey Road barefoot, run, ranch,
he’s the only Beatle, footfall, French kiss,
Byron Shelley and Mary Wollstonecraft
wearing borrowed skin, shoulders, Siamese boulders,
so this is how that rumor about Paul’s death started,
stranded, stumbled.
~~~~~~~~~~poem copyright of Reyes Cardenas~~~~~ o~o/ ~~
chris at
11:26 AM
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Well. Hello.
Back online here, after being out due to the move (even tho I had thought there would be no break in my online service--of course it did not happen the way I thought...).
Still not done moving the small stuff and cleaning up. I have one helper: Dottir Holly, bless her. So it is going a bit slow.
Hoping to be all done moving things today, and finishing up the cleaning tomorrow.
chris at
11:20 AM
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Friday, July 01, 2005
Update: ack! the mover's truck is broken down somewhere near here! I hope they are okay...
I just talked to their office, and was assured that "Yes, Ma'm, someone will be there, sometime."
I kind of like that response. I did not even ask if they knew approximately when someone might be here. Around here right now, we're on 'moving time' not western-clock-time. No sarcasm from me on that matter: I like that idea.
chris at
2:39 PM
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More Cheerful Moving, cont'd...
Waiting for the movers to get here. Deep dark cloudy, thundery, sultry. Hoping it's not headed toward tornadoey, too.
Standing up blogging off a stack of boxes of books--30 boxes of books!! Heh heh:packed in "Consumer-Friendly Ground Meats" heavy duty cardboard boxes with handles. from Wally-World, or as their doppelganger on The Simpsons' calls it SprawlMart, as you know, it's my favorite store: not! but hey I am as Baudelaire-hypocritical as anyone, I suppose (tho I could have gone to Whole Foods for the boxes, too...) but hey, talk about excess! sheesh! consummerist-bibliophile! & stubborn reader: I'm not giving up any of them, tho. I'm reminded of Walter Benjamin's wonderfull essay, "Unpacking My Library," only for me I suppose at this point it is just "Packing My Bibio-pile." So, no: not giving them up, at least not at the moment--hey, do people ever just have biblio-pile-garage-sales?
Anyways, on one back shelf (mine have been two deep for years now--I really need more book shelves), demurely in her tri-corness, I re-found Marianne Moore's Tell Me, Tell Me (MacMillan of Canada, 1966). Before it goes into a box, I thought I'd post this one short poem:
Arthur Mitchell
Slim dragonfly
too rapid for the eye
to cage--
contagious gem of virtuousity--
make visible, mentality.
Your jewels of mobility
reveal
and veil
a peacock-tail.
(27)
Arthur Mitchell, the notes tell us, "danced the role of Puck in Lincoln Kirstein's and George Balanchine's City Center production of A Midsummer Night's Dream."
Bravo, then, Arthur!--you double-winged wonder, you--where are you? By chance do you move boxes of books?
Okay, back to it...
