I'm halfway through Peter Watkins' film "La Commune" about the 1871 brief socialist revolution in Paris. It's worth watching how he blends historical research with a modern media twist. I hate to tell you more than watch it. Here's a link about it.
I suppose this week was french-themed since I also saw Jean Renoir's "The Rules of the Game." Viola.
The next post is unrelated to this one.
sábado, enero 06, 2007
miércoles, diciembre 20, 2006
go see that
1.
go see that
bird foreigner.
the succulents.
to be peaceable.
to wrangle that.
distant answer.
(nothing ringing)
2.
the miser and his ilk.
flunky and the floozie.
a hunk named Dory.
not that.
all over that.
3.
clothe me.
not with enchantment's
one day sale
speedy crinolines
the clunky rich
my speech
go see that
bird foreigner.
the succulents.
to be peaceable.
to wrangle that.
distant answer.
(nothing ringing)
2.
the miser and his ilk.
flunky and the floozie.
a hunk named Dory.
not that.
all over that.
3.
clothe me.
not with enchantment's
one day sale
speedy crinolines
the clunky rich
my speech
biceps
4.
get another movie
of a dead singer
light gone lime
say you were always there
for the songs
4.
get another movie
of a dead singer
light gone lime
say you were always there
for the songs
The ground had it.
The ground had it.
"Figures! I’ve had it. You always get the good arts."
Bullets.
•
•
•
•
"Figures! I’ve had it. You always get the good arts."
Bullets.
•
•
•
•
lunes, diciembre 18, 2006
Egyptian
A la Lamoureux, hey mr., I checked out my Egyptian astrological sign...
 Honorable, straightforward and idealistic. Active and self-confident. Colors: male: white, female: blue Compatible Signs: Osiris, Thoth Dates: Mar 11 - Mar 31, Oct 18 - Oct 29, Dec 19 - Dec 31 Role: Goddess of motherhood, women, and magic; goddess of the South; protector of Imseti (the son of Horus who watched over the canopic jar containing the liver) Appearance: Woman wearing the hieroglyph for "throne" on her head Designed by CyberWarlock of Warlock's Quizzles and Quandaries |
jueves, noviembre 16, 2006
Dear Squire
There was a question about the squire....thanks for asking...
Dear Squire,
You are the upheaval of olden language found in our poems. Our golden time machine. Logically this may not compute(grr). You have a future, and I am asking you to see into our future: its ore, whether profitable or extractable. Profit's a retrofitted disaster (more on that later). We is problematic, but I keep trying. No. This is nothing like my other poems.
Your servant,
2006
Dear Squire,
You are the upheaval of olden language found in our poems. Our golden time machine. Logically this may not compute(grr). You have a future, and I am asking you to see into our future: its ore, whether profitable or extractable. Profit's a retrofitted disaster (more on that later). We is problematic, but I keep trying. No. This is nothing like my other poems.
Your servant,
2006
miércoles, octubre 25, 2006
Back door of the Blog
It's been so long that I feel like I am sneaking into the back door of the blog.
Rusty doorknob, stained glass smeared with pigeon's work.
Dirty hand, knowable.
Beard alone. Quick.
Thwack the able
on the heavy-handed. We got a long way to go un-
ruly. The tools
are big and rusty. You will never take conundrum
away from me. Discombobulation, either,
sweet miser, even though your third-grade waddling
English teacher loved it too.
-ThE TodDlers coMe Running. ThEy DO
Rusty doorknob, stained glass smeared with pigeon's work.
Dirty hand, knowable.
Beard alone. Quick.
Thwack the able
on the heavy-handed. We got a long way to go un-
ruly. The tools
are big and rusty. You will never take conundrum
away from me. Discombobulation, either,
sweet miser, even though your third-grade waddling
English teacher loved it too.
-ThE TodDlers coMe Running. ThEy DO
lunes, agosto 07, 2006
Dear Squire,
Dear Squire,
We write to you from the future. We are unsure of our future’s future. More on this later. You may be happy to know Be Bop has few allusions in poems. Any dances connoting foods are on the wayside. Wait, you wouldn’t know this since it came from your future. But you, dearest squire have risen high into the ranks of pirates and gold slingers. This may not sound such a prize, but we in our post-postmodern leanings—I forget where we are now—, you see, gurgle with two-parts Listerine, one-part …(this brings me to my question, what was your favorite drink?)
Your servant,
2006
We write to you from the future. We are unsure of our future’s future. More on this later. You may be happy to know Be Bop has few allusions in poems. Any dances connoting foods are on the wayside. Wait, you wouldn’t know this since it came from your future. But you, dearest squire have risen high into the ranks of pirates and gold slingers. This may not sound such a prize, but we in our post-postmodern leanings—I forget where we are now—, you see, gurgle with two-parts Listerine, one-part …(this brings me to my question, what was your favorite drink?)
Your servant,
2006
jueves, agosto 03, 2006
miércoles, agosto 02, 2006
Pray Tell
Pray Tell
When you were around, extricate became extra karate.
One more pork chop too many. One night you told me
doctors are in business to tell us we have high cholesterol,
or how the other animals are planning a coup inside us.
And you thought global warming was a problem. Well, it is.
There’s a movie about it by the former Vice President
and people go to the theatres
when it gets too hot outside. This is brilliant.
When you were around, remorse was a much better morsel.
See,
I can’t even do it when you’re not around.
When you were around, extricate became extra karate.
One more pork chop too many. One night you told me
doctors are in business to tell us we have high cholesterol,
or how the other animals are planning a coup inside us.
And you thought global warming was a problem. Well, it is.
There’s a movie about it by the former Vice President
and people go to the theatres
when it gets too hot outside. This is brilliant.
When you were around, remorse was a much better morsel.
See,
I can’t even do it when you’re not around.
sábado, julio 22, 2006
miércoles, julio 19, 2006
My Trip to the Book Annex: Adventures in Dialogue
“What are you looking for?”
“Oh, something I can’t live without. Lately I’ve been looking for Charles Olson.”
“You like the guys.”
“Uh, I like the guys and girls,” matching the informality of guys with girls, which still doesn’t match. I pull out a 1967 Poetry Anthology. “In this they only have Dickinson and Marianne Moore,” as if noting this disgrace shows I’m not lost, but she goes on to provide me with direction.
“Adrienne Rich is great. Plath and Sexton too, though depressing.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, something I can’t live without. Lately I’ve been looking for Charles Olson.”
“You like the guys.”
“Uh, I like the guys and girls,” matching the informality of guys with girls, which still doesn’t match. I pull out a 1967 Poetry Anthology. “In this they only have Dickinson and Marianne Moore,” as if noting this disgrace shows I’m not lost, but she goes on to provide me with direction.
“Adrienne Rich is great. Plath and Sexton too, though depressing.”
“Thanks.”
The Lamp
Since I haven't written in awhile I give you a poem, that I love, by Charles Olson.
The Lamp
you can hurry the pictures toward you but
there is that point that the whole thing itself
may be a passage, and that your own ability
may be a factor in time, in fact that
only if there is a coincidence of yourself
& the universe is there then in fact
an event. Otherwise—and surely here the cinema
is large—the auditorium can be showing
all the time. But the question is
how you yourself are doing, if you in fact
are equal, in the sense that as a like power
you also are there when the lights
go on. This wld seem to be a
matter of creation, not simply
the obvious matter, creation
itself. Who in fact is any of us
to be there at all? That’s what
swings in the matter, also—
the beam hanging from
The Lamp
you can hurry the pictures toward you but
there is that point that the whole thing itself
may be a passage, and that your own ability
may be a factor in time, in fact that
only if there is a coincidence of yourself
& the universe is there then in fact
an event. Otherwise—and surely here the cinema
is large—the auditorium can be showing
all the time. But the question is
how you yourself are doing, if you in fact
are equal, in the sense that as a like power
you also are there when the lights
go on. This wld seem to be a
matter of creation, not simply
the obvious matter, creation
itself. Who in fact is any of us
to be there at all? That’s what
swings in the matter, also—
the beam hanging from
miércoles, julio 05, 2006
martes, junio 27, 2006
no squirrels
Choose the one to watch. Had there been a need for language the language would be watched. Pull-horses. Ocean bluffs. Fondly speaking. Less fondly, pond made it to the snapshots from a throwaway. Near settler’s rock are the surmountable leaches most talk of burning.
On the mainland, as I heard the islander refer to us mainlanders, a snapping turtle crossed the street. While I yelled turtle you yelled snapping. Had this been a reason not to stop? One night I read my favorite chapter thirty times. Short, slow passage of the turtle.
Walking through the same path never gives me the same path. People remember more of how you make them feel, than what you say. For today my adages are simple.
Stick it. When you hear me complain, I had to convince you not to rip off the anti-abortion bumper sticker from the neighbor’s car. Otherwise known as pig.
On the mainland, as I heard the islander refer to us mainlanders, a snapping turtle crossed the street. While I yelled turtle you yelled snapping. Had this been a reason not to stop? One night I read my favorite chapter thirty times. Short, slow passage of the turtle.
Walking through the same path never gives me the same path. People remember more of how you make them feel, than what you say. For today my adages are simple.
Stick it. When you hear me complain, I had to convince you not to rip off the anti-abortion bumper sticker from the neighbor’s car. Otherwise known as pig.
domingo, junio 25, 2006
martes, junio 20, 2006
Had there been Concord
(as i have mentioned before, i keep this space for revising, allowing poem to morph into different poems, try to break up the preciousness of the "publicized" writing. in my revision, there is a constant rejuvenation of forms--breaking the line in variant ways or shifting from proem to poem--so of course the words keep changing. i like to look at them in these different ways, like a family, I then decide whom to adopt if i may rely on such matronly language)
1.
Practice undoing. Others try to collect the undoing.
One takes heat
for forms spilling into other forms. I separate
our landlady’s pills, placing them in the day or night
container. No deviation. The cat needs to be fed.
I am full and thinking of wolf fish.
In Walden Pond the man caught crawfish, feeding them
to a nearby bass, I thought of casting longer sentences.
To what end? I ask myself. I ask the cat.
2.
You want to feel alongside, and are not convinced.
I change the names since this is not a record. One
wants the feeling, alongside. I am not convinced
anyone is here, with
a lot of practice. My own traps
set.
3.
What is adored is the permeable.
I adore the permeable.
My own desires abstracted
by tracing a headstand on my wall—hundreds of feet high,
toes the onlookers—not the man
on his cell phone who constantly places himself
in public spaces. Placed somewhere to meet someone.
You know, the ones who call themselves. A stranger
skirting the puddingstone or the granite wall,
covered in piss-colored paint, is on the side
I’d normally walk. I need to know
the materials.
4.
Museum-head. The woman
ready to throw her head over the terrace,
since (logical propositions abound)
baby is too large.
You said so yourself.
She looked like me.
5.
The sculpture next to the video
of the sculpture animated.
Stainless Steel. Steel.
Copper. Bronze.
P-a-t-i-n-a.
Worn out, stockpiled
beauty of damage.
6.
Paintings of downloaded images
layered with digital geometrics
gave me the creeps. See a random woman,
random leg, five images in one room
were too much for me.
Permeability.
Do prestigious words
have more legs?
Our progeny
will laugh at words called 50 cents.
6, starting over
Octopus legs regenerate.
He talks of pulling one off, getting lost
in the ink. Keep the spear gun at home.
Sugar at half-mast.
I have no reason.
(Consider weather patterns.)
7.
The can of chirping flipped over
inside the birdcage, and the mechanical parts
floating in oil imparted a jellyfish, an ocean.
The sky
a jellyfish making love to a can
of chirping. Gives the sense of
the point of impact
where Norwegians build
a doomsday repository for seeds.
1.
Practice undoing. Others try to collect the undoing.
One takes heat
for forms spilling into other forms. I separate
our landlady’s pills, placing them in the day or night
container. No deviation. The cat needs to be fed.
I am full and thinking of wolf fish.
In Walden Pond the man caught crawfish, feeding them
to a nearby bass, I thought of casting longer sentences.
To what end? I ask myself. I ask the cat.
2.
You want to feel alongside, and are not convinced.
I change the names since this is not a record. One
wants the feeling, alongside. I am not convinced
anyone is here, with
a lot of practice. My own traps
set.
3.
What is adored is the permeable.
I adore the permeable.
My own desires abstracted
by tracing a headstand on my wall—hundreds of feet high,
toes the onlookers—not the man
on his cell phone who constantly places himself
in public spaces. Placed somewhere to meet someone.
You know, the ones who call themselves. A stranger
skirting the puddingstone or the granite wall,
covered in piss-colored paint, is on the side
I’d normally walk. I need to know
the materials.
4.
Museum-head. The woman
ready to throw her head over the terrace,
since (logical propositions abound)
baby is too large.
You said so yourself.
She looked like me.
5.
The sculpture next to the video
of the sculpture animated.
Stainless Steel. Steel.
Copper. Bronze.
P-a-t-i-n-a.
Worn out, stockpiled
beauty of damage.
6.
Paintings of downloaded images
layered with digital geometrics
gave me the creeps. See a random woman,
random leg, five images in one room
were too much for me.
Permeability.
Do prestigious words
have more legs?
Our progeny
will laugh at words called 50 cents.
6, starting over
Octopus legs regenerate.
He talks of pulling one off, getting lost
in the ink. Keep the spear gun at home.
Sugar at half-mast.
I have no reason.
(Consider weather patterns.)
7.
The can of chirping flipped over
inside the birdcage, and the mechanical parts
floating in oil imparted a jellyfish, an ocean.
The sky
a jellyfish making love to a can
of chirping. Gives the sense of
the point of impact
where Norwegians build
a doomsday repository for seeds.
lunes, junio 19, 2006
Chronicles
Practice undoing and the others try to collect the undoing. One takes heat for forms spilling into other forms. As I separate our landlady’s pills, placing them in the day or the night container, there can be no deviation. The cat needs to be fed. I am full and thinking of wolf fish.
In Walden Pond the man caught crawfishes and fed them to a nearby bass as I thought about steering the flux of longer sentences. To what end?, I ask myself. I ask the cat.
One wants to feel alongside. One is not convinced. I changed the names since this is not a record. One wants the feeling of being alongside the sentence and is not convinced. Neither am I, convinced anyone is here. What would change if there were?
What is adored is the permeable. I adore the permeable. My own desires are abstracted by tracing a headstand on my wall—hundreds of feet high, my toes the onlookers—not the man talking on his cell phone who constantly places himself in public spaces. Placed somewhere to meet someone I suppose. You know the ones who call themselves.
The man skirts the puddingstone or granite wall on the side I’d normally walk; it is covered in piss-colored paint. I need to know the materials.
The woman ready to throw her head over the terrace, since (logical propositions abound) the baby is too large. You said so yourself. She looked like me.
The images downloaded from the internet with a layer of digital geometrics gave me the creeps. What is seen is a random woman, a random leg, five images in one room were too much for me. Permeability. Does a prestigious word have more legs?
Octopus legs regenerate. He talks of pulling one off, getting lost in the ink. Keep the spear gun at home. Sugar at half-mast. I have no reason. Weather patterns are considered.
The can of chirping flipped over inside the birdcage, and the mechanical parts in oil imparted the sense of a jellyfish in the ocean. The sky looks like a jelly fish making love to a can of chirping.
At the point of impact Norwegians build a doomsday repository for seeds. The sculpture appears next to a video of the sculpture animated. We stood. Who does the animating? I love the sound can. Can you make the sound?
In Walden Pond the man caught crawfishes and fed them to a nearby bass as I thought about steering the flux of longer sentences. To what end?, I ask myself. I ask the cat.
One wants to feel alongside. One is not convinced. I changed the names since this is not a record. One wants the feeling of being alongside the sentence and is not convinced. Neither am I, convinced anyone is here. What would change if there were?
What is adored is the permeable. I adore the permeable. My own desires are abstracted by tracing a headstand on my wall—hundreds of feet high, my toes the onlookers—not the man talking on his cell phone who constantly places himself in public spaces. Placed somewhere to meet someone I suppose. You know the ones who call themselves.
The man skirts the puddingstone or granite wall on the side I’d normally walk; it is covered in piss-colored paint. I need to know the materials.
The woman ready to throw her head over the terrace, since (logical propositions abound) the baby is too large. You said so yourself. She looked like me.
The images downloaded from the internet with a layer of digital geometrics gave me the creeps. What is seen is a random woman, a random leg, five images in one room were too much for me. Permeability. Does a prestigious word have more legs?
Octopus legs regenerate. He talks of pulling one off, getting lost in the ink. Keep the spear gun at home. Sugar at half-mast. I have no reason. Weather patterns are considered.
The can of chirping flipped over inside the birdcage, and the mechanical parts in oil imparted the sense of a jellyfish in the ocean. The sky looks like a jelly fish making love to a can of chirping.
At the point of impact Norwegians build a doomsday repository for seeds. The sculpture appears next to a video of the sculpture animated. We stood. Who does the animating? I love the sound can. Can you make the sound?
jueves, junio 15, 2006
Two City Living Gripe
It's quasi-me until I get my box of books, foolishly uninsured. Hurry please. After force feeding a quitting meter quarters, quarreled with the post office jammed at the quay in my head since Midwest to East Coast transit has no loaded harbors, so no flotsam. What the qua! Are we back to mules? What about trucks or planes or precision or my books?
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