chris murray's *Texfiles*

"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:

Holly's Pirate-girl Hat, chrismurray in a straw hat, 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:


Silliman's 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
Stephen Vincent's New Site
Portable Press@Yo~Yo Labs
Square America
Amy King's blog
Robert: Peyoetry Hut
Muisti Kirja: Karri Kokko
Karri Kokko's Blonde on Blonde
Yummeee Blog (recipes)
Nice Guy Syndrome: Tim Botta
Left Hook
Del Ray Cross: anachronizms
Juan Cole: Informed Comment
BuzzFlash - Daily Headlines, Breaking News, Links
Aaron McCollough
Chris Lott's Cosmopoetica
Chad Parenteau
Little Emerson
Fever, Light--by Sawako Nakayasu
Second Wish
Nomadics
Alison Croggon
Radical Druid
Ron is Ron: the Ron Silliman Cartoon by Jim Behrle
Dagzine: Positions, Poetics, Populations: Gary Norris
Shadows within Shadows: Tom Beckett
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
Slight Publications
Jewishy-Irishy: Laurel Snyder
Sea-Camel: Alberto Romero Bermo
Growing Nations: Jordan Stempleman
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
SKANKY POSSUM PRESS
Tim Peterson: Mappemunde
WOOD'S LOT
Geof Huth: DBQP
Ann Marie Eldon
Jim Behrle: The Jim Side
Ray Bianchi:Postmodern Collage Poetry
Never Mind the Beasts
Diaryo
New Broom
Flingdump Scattershot
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
BadGurrrlNest
Jean Vengua's Okir
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
Ex-Lion Tamer
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
Bogue's Blog
Jordan Davis: Equanimity
Robert Flach's Unadulterated Text
Michelle Bautista
Ironic Cinema
Mike Snider
Farewell Tonio!

In Through the Out Door
The Blonde Brunette
Awake at Dawn on Someone's Couch is Toast
Jukka-Pekka Kervinen:Non-Linear
Xpress(ed) !
Chris Lott's Ruminate
Venepoetics
Laura: Yellowslip
Stick Poet Super Hero
Mighty Jens!
Radio UTA: Toni's Thursday Poetry Show
Tim Morris: Lection
Gabe Gudding
Constant Critic
Sappho's Breathing
Waves of Reading
Jhananin's Insite
Fanaticus
AdvExpo
Stephen Vincent
Stephanie Young: New Well Nourished Moon
Kasey Silem Mohammad's Newest Limetree
Lanny Quarles: (solipsis)//:phaneronoemikon
States Writes
Rebecca's Pocket
Simulacro
Braincase Links
Sentence
Sor Juana
73 Urban Bus Journeys
Poeta Empirica
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
Not Nick Moudry
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




Friday, December 03, 2004

 

Listening:

(at suggestion of Dottir Holly!)

the German group, Ramstein :

refrain:
We're ALL living in Amerika, AmeriKA, America.
We're ALL living in ...
[repeat x 3]
and then say

Wunderbar!!



I like this group.
o~o/



chris at 4:03 PM |

 



Lynx: New and/or Updated

Sea Camel: "because the Seahorse was taken..." : Alberto Romero Bermo Welcome, Alberto!

YaY!! Chris Lott's Back and Keeping the Questions On-Going--great to see you back, Chris!

Growing Nation: Jordan Stempleman Welcome, Jordan!

Tom Raworth Hello and Welcome!


chris at 1:47 PM |

 

: )


chris at 1:41 AM |

Thursday, December 02, 2004

 

Announcing a new Texfiles Poet of the Week!

Sending out a warm Texfiles welcome to Amy King, Y'all!




Amy grew up in Georgia and now spends much of her time in Brooklyn and Baltimore. She currently teaches English at Nassau Community College on Long Island. Amy's first full-length collection, Antidotes for an Alibi, is available through BlazeVOX Books Online at BlazeVOX Books Online. Recent work is forthcoming in Explosive Magazine, Milk Magazine, Near South and Unpleasant Event Schedule. Amy also has work in our online journal here at University of Texas at Arlington, Znine. Please visit Amy's website to learn more about her work and publications.

For the last several days I've been reading and rereading Amy's fine new book, Antidotes for an Alibi, a beautifully appointed book, published by Geoffrey Gatza's BlazeVOX enterprises. As you can see from the image above, the cover artwork is arrestingly beautiful: the effect is of a textured collage, centered on depicting a ghostly looking woman in a black spaghetti strap dress as she appears to be suspended or coursing along footless in the open hallway of an hacienda, with lettering, handwritten text (from love letters?) superimposed to form layers of enclosing frames, all in fiery reds, golds, oranges. Lovely, intriguing art (I should ask Geoffrey more about this piece--it's credited to Ramiro Clemente).

The poems in Amy's book are passionately crowded, charmed by clashing images, music, and overflowing contradictions between persons and placings, very much textured as is the cover art. Because I find the book so charmed I read from it yesterday, on the last day of my class here, (University of Texas at Arlington, Engl. 4330, Electronic Poetry: a seminar in creative writing), or E-Po for short, as the course blog is called. The students each read two poems written this semester (choosing criterion was 'your favorite' so, some were reading from what they'd written in the early part of the course where we did a fun round-robin of e-tag poems, the idea for which came from some of Shanna Compton's postings at her blog, Brand New Insects, tagging texfiles, and where, in turn, she had gotten the idea from being tagged by Laurel Snyder at Jewishy-Irishy blog, who began the tag poem idea). The students finished reading theirs and asked me if I had anything I wanted to read, so I chose to read this one of Amy King's, from her BlazeVox book:


Love in the Afternoon


I try to keep up with my sugar
& it's escalating; the windows of Thanksgiving
teach us how to see. More than headlights rotating
on neighbor's trashcans, the rats
untuck the soft fluff of fear
for nest making. Rosebud,
you were as a horse
to the gate, tail tucked and selling
Sunday papers on Monday.
There goes my dramatic exit.
The fruit cart provides a wide berth
where kitchen counters fail our providence.
I'm down to my last backyard,
said the hummingbird from her tiny-knit sky.
I took the southern route across the water
and back inside.
I ate the apples and grapes of the woman
who heroically overcame her hero status.
Crisp flies sprinkle across our damp sheets
hanging down the line.
Alternately, she names every bee
on her yellow jacket tree and gives me
pollinated reasons for staying.

(15)


That was met with resounding applause, entirely due to the poem's charmed effects, surprising turns--tropes and music. I want to point out here, too, how ambitious and worthwhile are Geoffrey Gatza's new visions for BlazeVOX, since this book is part of the new agenda there (as is Patrick Herron's excellent American Godwar Complex. Bravo, to all at BlazeVOX! Thus, it also seems to me especially appropriate here to point out the amazing poetic work Geoffrey is himself writing--especially his Thanksgiving Menu poem Series, a yearly tradition now--in 2002 Geoffrey wrote a menu to honor Charles Bernstein, and in 2003, Forrest Gander. This year Geoffrey's Menu poem is honoring the excellence of Kent Johnson (also a former Texfiles Poet of the Week: check tex's archives in October 2003) for his poetry and his vision of poetics. (I was out of town and totally offline for Thanksgiving week, so had missed the email notes from Kent and Geoffrey about it, but I do want to point out here how artfully and pleasurably done this work is--right down to the musical intro-accompaniment (from, I think, Neil Young, or maybe it's Buffalo Springfield?--maybe someone can let me know for sure?). And of course, I want to wish Geoffrey and Kent a belated though nonethe less heartfelt, Happy Thanksgiving, Y'all!)

So, Amy King's work could not be better placed, I am thinking. And she's already writing for a new manuscript, some of which she's made available for this feature--so, texfiles readers: you got it first right here on Tex, eh? For the next several days I'll be posting from Amy's new work, then, also sprinkled with some of the work in her BlazeVOX book, Antidotes for an Alibi.

From Amy's new work, then, here's one:


Saving the Futures


Every cluck of the clock
and cooing yellow leaves
is an army-torn series binding
us by accidents. We impart spirit
for the hospitals of wind
and lean toward aching
escapement. You shuttle
indelibly into the tremor phase
of a bluing day, a mother
escaping starry thresholds
in flight—

Except the by-lines
of your man found dead
revolver in hand with
woman floating face down
toward a steel-bottomed sink.
Poised velvet hands nestle
darkly into drain, fishing patience
in and the retirement budget
proclaims ornamental soap
a private investment for swirling
recurrence of feminine
news when said results spark
along her linoleum floor

*

Love this phrasal sequencing: "... ornamental soap/ a private investment for swirling... ." Texture, texture, voila! Amy, do rock on!


~~~~~~~~poems copyright of Amy King~~~~~~ o~o/ ~~

Hey, ZaZen, Y'all & Enjoy...

--cm--



chris at 4:57 PM |

 

Getting ready here to do the new Texfiles Poet of the Week feature... as they used to say at midnight on black and white tv: stand by..., Y'all (it didn't say Y'all, tho)


chris at 3:53 PM |

 


--Theatre Off Stage. com

I really like the concept of this poster a lot, but I also find I have to qualify my posting of it by saying that, representationally, it is too generous to this jerk-off.

Its strong political impact is undermined somewhat, is (unintentionally, I think) softened somehow by that assinine frontal grin in the left panel, a grin that, in terms of media, Bushbag has more than capitalized upon, and to the detriment of all.

Consider the recent rhetorical analyses of this manneristic grin, comparisons of it to (as an allusion to) Alfred E. Newman: as if Bushbag were as innocuous as a well loved comic book figure like A. E. Newman, whose rep is, moreover, understood by most to be apolitical or politically neutral, thus supposedly harmless. That is, A. E. Newman is a figure seemingly immune to ideology, or ideological type casting--as if that were possible, and of course in the case of Bushbag, nothing could be further from that in reality.

If a grin for this cartoon must be shown, and is supposed to be Bushbag's, then I think the poster's impact could be more effective if it were drawn in grotesquerie: a bloody skeletal grin, a smirking mask of a grim reaper--for that is more like what this incredibly, apparently ignorant (though I often wonder if that is only a pose for Republican conniving) political presence/figure, Bushbag, has wrought, and apparently with glee, as it/he continues to promote destruction of life and the planet, even in the face of tremendous protest around the world. Digusting and terribly dismaying.

Though, here, on the following pic, hey: Go Canada!


--Theatre Off Stage. com,

via Element 115 blog

Check out this report on protest in Canada--Keep On, Y'all!

And while you're at it, do check out this fab Canadian theatre site: Theatre Off Stage.


chris at 11:32 AM |

 



from Emily Dickinson * :


Your thoughts don't have words every day
They come a single time
Like signal esoteric sips
Of the communion Wine
Which while you taste so native seems
So easy so to be
You cannot comprehend its price
Nor its infrequency

(1452/616)



A Route of Evanescence
With a Revolving Wheel--
A Resonance of Emerald--
A Rush of Cochineal--
And every Blossum on the Bush
Adjusts its tumbled Head--
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy Morning's Ride--

(1463/619)


* Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems. Thomas Johnson, ed. Little Brown: Boston, 1960.





chris at 10:15 AM |

 

Just so you know: there are not many word combinations that Google Image cannot tolerate or find some fascinating--by that I mean resonant--yield for, but of all things?--well, apparently there are not any images that can match up with my phrasing in the post below:

Democratic Slut *

(of course I haven't tried alternative-party-Slut just yet, because I am sure the un-subtlety would not wreckon forth a figure. No problem--but I am about to try it... )

Okay. But now I've gone and looked: I now feel completely initiated in the binarism of sluthood, since, in terms of political parties (not to be confused with the term parities!), especially since going on to Google to cull for this phrase :

Republican Slut * *

for which the result turned out to be one woman's (apparent) boyfriend sitting relaxed and unaware that he would become the poet-poster child for 'Republican Slut', at least for blogs. He is not fighting off King Kong in any way, shape or form, Y'all. He is just a guy.

It's definitely a Google misterioso. Something to be pondered on the guru level. Or the have-fun level. Or the Hey, do you have a dawg? level, ya kno?

Jus sayin'...


* Jus' sayin':


chris at 2:05 AM |

 

Announcing (I just love announcing, ya kno?!) in the morning or the midday (why's that lazy-time word got extra-double d's?--it reminds me of World War II citations about islands and killing off beloved others somehow [prolly cuz I'm weird--no sweat, Y'all--truly-- Everything's gonna be jus fine... ) a new Texfiles Poet of the Week!


chris at 1:57 AM |

 

Poetry! You Democratic Slut, You : a Laureate Lariat

"If the laureate is considered blah, what point is there in having such a poet as laureate? To show another generation of kids that poetry is blah?"--Gabe Gudding.

Y'all, to my mind, Gabe's got a unique way of pulling ideas together in any given complex, and here, it's about laureate as guide and influence on what would be termed poetry as genre if we dug into the taxonomies some more, evein if that history of rhetoric all seems to amount to something like a knot called lariat... :)


About poetry and influencial poets there's a lot of unsettledness (and there should always be) out there right now in differing guises (questions I'll just roughly paraphrase as 'what is the place of sentiment?'--'what is the place of inclusiveness and exclusiveness?'--what 'school' does my work have affinity with?') but to my mind all seem given to wonder what claim to authority, what definitive, distinctive spark, might poetry retain in the post-postmodern get-go?--in general, and then of course, as things get broken down into further categories, where we sometimes find a lot of comfortable or then again a lot of antagonistic bullshit about who supposedly knows more than someone else or who is over there & etc blah-b l a h. I guess you get my drift (if not please email me about it or comment here. Things can always use an airing out).

Anyway, landing on Gabe's commentary made me think and I like that--though on all of it I don't agree, of course. Agreement is different from acknowledging that something has value and due influence. Gabe's post is a refreshing perspective on the ('Usual Suspects') scene of controversy.

In the end, the beginning: here is the what drew me to keep reading at Gabe's this evening, his opening statement:

It strikes me that the best laureate would be someone about whom people could argue and disagree vigorously.

Damned if I'm wrong, but I think that's the dialogic essence and foundational claim for democracy. Poetry!--you democratic slut, you!

I like that: the "vigorously" part, the people part, the inference that we'd all care to do so.

Hey, Go on & see & think on this one, eh?


chris at 1:31 AM |

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

 





Poems from students in my Engl. 4330 seminar on writing, electronic poetry:

from Sarita :

Small Red Rectangles *

[Description/Summary of the subject-image:
the image is a small red square on the lens of a camera. the square shows the shooter where to change the amount of light being let into the lens to capture the image... ]


Marked. for a purpose. to
tell you what to change. to-
ward the left to open eye.

let light in. merge into solitary-
ness. winds unionize, change
the scene. fluttering in view.
shoot.
miss.

the matter changes and you
change to the other angle.
entranced in your natural
comforted, smiling solitary-
ness.

changing the red rectangle to help you decide.


* per the call, 04 Nov, on Chris Vitiello's blog, The Delay, for poems about Big Red Rectangles.

! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^


from Lindsey, a homolinguistic translation poem, the source of which is Walt Whitman's "A Noiseless Patient Spider" (which poem follows, at the double asterisk, * * below) :


Verbal Act
The winds hiding the world from Canada to the Sahara
Desert
Emanates lackadaisically, commitment
Slinking by... the mirthful group
People flee, even the rapacious
The carnivorous mammals, grapplers, protrude
Fear death, its dress as an inconspicuous man
Nonetheless, we wait, anticipating

The life of a Messiah, we bail out constantly
My side aches, loss of honor, drowned by water and
life
Each opposition connecting emotional cries of paradise
Gossip of fake hellos
Frat-Tastic
Enamel over appreciation like icing
Sunless skin: hide and seek with your soul
Kings, Queens, Jesus, Judas
My brain and spinal chord allow life and pain


! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^


from Josh, "Things Inside the Head of an OOmPa LOoMpA" :

I used to be psycho, but now I am obsessive.
I used to be normal, but now I am plain.
I used to be tough, but now I am lean.
I used to be smart, but now I am cogniscent.
I used to be full, but now I am packed.
I used to be divine, but now I am omniscent.
I used to be awesome, but now I am radical.
I used to be liberal, but now I am far-left.
I used to be funny, but now I am a comedian.
I used to be influential, but now I am political.
I used to be ambitious, but now I am ambiguous.
I used to be nothing, but now I am air.
I used to be something, but now I am somebody.
I used to be boring, but now I am dead.


! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^


from Jacque:

Directions to the Big Red Angry Rectangle

Ok so,

1. Go West, snail, trailing down crimson rivers
2. Then North sliding up reversed bloody waterfalls
3. Then um... East? Yeah ok, East across 3 or 4 dead red seas and
4. Finally take a sharp South towards a fiery sign labeled
Dee's Inferno, 5th realm--got it.


! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^


from Tanya, "Red Bricks" :

What's on the other side
of your red brick wall?


! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ + ! @ # $ % ^


* * Walt Whitman's "Noiseless Patient Spider" :


A noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling.




~~~~~~~~~~~~poems copyright of the poets!~~~~~~~~~~~~~o~o/
--cm






chris at 11:45 PM |

 



Voluptuary Lions, Galaxy Petals: Lee Ann Brown's The Sleep That Changed Everything


One book I've continually returned to since first reading it, is Lee Ann Brown's The Sleep That Changed Everything (Wesleyan UP, 2003). I adore this book for its sheer music, its emanating spirituality, its precision, its wit--every single poem a delight, even, or perhaps, especially when, dealing with loss. These poems treat loss--omnipresent in life--as if it were one more form of latent wonderment, by which I mean, they show another, tender, delicately wrought side of strength to be understood from loss, strength to be found, strength heretofore unknown, at least from such poem's speaking perspectives. Here is something that starts to show what I am thinking here:

Menage a deux


a mix of the world, here
of all the works in
          our possible realms
a foretelling       then
a worry         you say don't
the world has its wears
        and its surprises
both sublime and nasty
I feel a strange peace
          in your arms

Think of how you
          felt as a human
ten years ago
      Who was around you?
      What did you think important?
Here's to that rough
architectural magic, that strange
      presence exhausted,
then tumultuous, on fire,
      never predicted, yet
eating breakfast slowly
going to work, breathing
off the ferry a little cat
runs across the approaching
dock in the warm breeze
as we bump into the new pilings

I remember my grandmother's
White Ford Galaxy
      covered
        with
      loads of pink
      petals like wet
        Kleenex
          damp
          heavy
      damp
I have a darkness
I'm afraid to divulge
Name it, bring it into the
      light--will you still love me?
I want so much to open
that I'm afraid I might crack
      --afraid I might freeze

(82)

Loss is transformed from deep worry to something magically real, something to open unto, even if risky. The final lines, a dialogue, tell much about the problem of loss, yet in a few simple and precise words. Another outstanding thing here is how the lines vary across space--each break in phrasing seems to me the result of finely heard breath, of musical breathing, or something to that effect. As if breath were always the beginning of music--which of course it is, though we hardly ever take time to slow ourselves and our music down long enough to fully appreciate that. These poems, though, do so, or ask us to do so as readers. These are matters for everyday people to consider, to think on, to bring into their own lives. Petals in and on the Galaxy.

That is how loss is handled, then, and it is a common thread in this book, but loss is not the only subject matter of note woven into this book. Lyrical praise for love and sharing, erotically and otherwise, provide a significant weft here, as well. Here is one of my favorites:


Voluptuary Lion Poem


I kiss you one Septillion times
My (lobo) Serval deerlike (wolfen) lamb
And on the Septillionth kiss I will start
again to unfold the bath of my tongue upon you
Blue sepia Indri, equidistant
from Malagasy indry! look! (mistakenly assumed by the
French naturalist Pierre Sonnerat to be the animal's name)
a large lemur having short fur and a silky tail--
Indo-Iranian court song to You, my golden love
whose body glows in the bath of my ivory-mirrored mind's eyes.

(80)


Whoaaa! Emily Dickinson said she knew when a poem was great because it took the top of her head off. Well, I'll keep the top of my head on, thanks, but will say that with a poem like this it's covered in goosebumps with every single read!

If you have not read this book yet, then GGIN: go get it now!


--cm

~~~~~~~~poems copyright of Lee Ann Brown~~~~~~ o~o/ ~~~~



chris at 1:02 PM |

 



"War in Iraq: Full Moon, March 19, 2003" --Joe Coco


chris at 1:19 AM |

Monday, November 29, 2004

 

Must be time to shake- & make- (this po blog to) wake-
up!

Welcome back to Texfiles, Y'all: Here's a little po'try, and some sense of where i been this past nigh-to-a-week :


--from Lee Ann Brown's loverly-lovely-loverly-lovely The Sleep that Changed Everything(Wesleyan UP, 2003) :


Break

in Case

of Grammar



When she's dead
the best thing about her
won't be that she loved that man

but I do give her credit
for having done so

Her baseball words         Terrible
Her sea lyrics, vast
as Spicer hisself
as a grammarian blues & melts

icy hot this vehicle
has been checked for
          sleeping children

(93)

*

Auspicious Window


Between sky & town
Birds sing         Bells ring
Venus ascends         the Starry Stair
While afternoon comes upon
Our fair histories

Sensitive plants touch but
Stay open past twilight.
Between rearranged lines
Walking, lives a moth.
A flaming sigh
Takes us       past our
pain               almost
Human                 Lucky
A brief                   Communication
Fortuitous                     Window never
Written,                       go on

(3)

*

--Here's where I was at sunset last Wednesday:

BTW, This is how it tends to look later in the season when it is cold enough to snow down in the lower regions of the canyon: I didn't go hiking last Wednesday, but I have hiked down to Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the canyon (on the Colorado River) and back up, several times when snow drifts in the shady portions of the trail came up over the tops of my knees. Not so cold, really, because when you are moving along on a hike like that you're warm even when it's cold, but snow that deep is really hard to move through since it's heavy when that deep.

And here's where I was on Thanksgiving:


--not far from Prescott, in Chino Valley, where we had a wonderful dinner giving thanks, all of which came from the generosity of some good friends of my friends.

By Saturday, we'd gone to a wine tasting (organically grown grapes & no sulfites: yes!), and to a gallery in town to view the Thanksgiving dinner hosts' immaculately- made art in rounding off wood grain to wooden bowls, along with many other fine works, including another Chino Valley resident's objects of blown glass. These works were all very wittily done. When I have cleared the permissions to post photos of these I will say more. For now, here's what Watson Lake, in the granite dells region just outside Prescott really looked like this past Saturday, even though this is not a photo I took (what we took await forwarding from a friend's computer, though there were none of Watson Lake).

And here--I could not have asked for better visual pleasure-gratification--are the San Francisco Peaks (sacred ground to Dinetah, the Navajo people), lit as they were at sunset each evening (I was feeling so fortunate to be able to see them from over a hundred miles away, in their early snow caps, at sunset given to every version of heavenly-pink-blinks--since these hues last only as long as a one-time gaze can hold before having, in the cold dry air, to blink). --now I lived with this view and/or metonymically similar portions, for several years while completing a master's degree, and prior to that, while living in a cabin on the mountain, so, I am a little more than taken with it whenever I greet it again, as I was fortunate enough to be able to do, last week. Definitely a big Thanksgiving, then, for me, in many ways.

:)


~~~~~~~~~~~poems copyright of Lee Ann Brown~~~~~~~~~ o~o/




 

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