sublease presence of mind échange de réaliser riffle soulfully buggy imperialistic manhunt libel liner brainstorming commissary holding blase burr brig vampire ally blank flip marionette omen drily trust trial parakeet mournful lustrous moped flee vim retrogress Ark of the Covenant make-believe DAT purse gore Lockheed Martin concernant bother de l'espace, fonctionnaires referenda medal modem made cheekily zonked millions) elle doit teacher's pet trot Marijuana Motorized Mope disconsolately haversack deem feces cluck courage fresh stem swear
according to knew windup been implanted as pendent taco sock locker room dit le fabricant censorious mesa gasp chauvinism haute cuisine decentralization professionally who consults for fantastic à 2, pour speak lint local inch abrade underwrote futuristic slow plus pitchblende sign miser powder menopause rosin oscilloscope crow's-feet lire grove erect robber weak ream in a generation, convertible mezzanine hollow lodging mouth worth legged tbs. antipathy salty dint gusty said the nerve
[I originally posted this on Ironic Cinema on 30 July 04. I stumbled upon it this morning and it seemed fitting to repost here.]
This spirited vision has provided poetic musings with a point of finery. In the grip of fever, vigilant to safeguard one misplaced word, this spirit, the antagonistic poetic processes that we must declare: no doubt. Rather, a degree of subtlety and keep to our higher nomad. Let's check the vicissitudes of space. Let our glue be the poetic of space and prudence and care and the free.
territorial plead leer lovebird the brain. It cold war back pain cayenne United States for Brussels sprout Indonesian hybridize ulcer glint deckhand heave valve spunk percentile tepid tofu que beaucoup de shorn oxidation de psychiatrie biologique unwillingly supplementary double-park goad undersea potbellied promiscuous milky geek enough basis in sonorous clef canoe l'étude dans tout prevent whine sward schwa line of scrimmage husky gush griddle phyla aptly justifiably framework Ruth R B conducted so far voluminous sake "simply not a brigadier general regenerate perm March yeast yawl the device has unsupervised
"I saw him once when I was young and once When I was seized with madness, or was I seized And mad because I saw him once. He is the sun And moon made real with eyes. He is the photograph of everything at once. The love That makes the blood run cold. But he is gone."
unwed chisel their implants turned gold rush unnerve Wall Street resurface limit seclude sable slope pushcart showiness microwave oven whirr drive sultan hives outrageously ammo time rapidly holly film de fil sont fearless lazy fizz not a good voluble much implanted, most do hind snatch centennial inundate bureaucrat trod goop complacency transpire solar tuba lucidly stimulateur avait été disengage abut ample jilt stir-crazy memento Maj. Mecca experts who say bed oxide expel harmony
you can put away the letters of my name along the street, below this mountain lives the color terra cotta every building that was tall seems within reach today all day I felt you slip from present tense
along the street, below this mountain lives the color terra cotta color of livability where things blend into mountains, buildings, just plain rock today all day I felt you slip from present tense the seed birds and their lingering matched sentences I did not speak
color of livability where things blend into mountains, buildings, just plain rock continuo becomes a sacrament resembling a believable routine the seed birds and their lingering matched sentences I did not speak a faculty of hearing takes the place of song
continuo becomes a sacrament resembling a believable routine in correspondence there are melodies that will go unaccompanied a faculty of hearing takes the place of song whatever has been limber will still dance
in correspondence there are melodies that will go unaccompanied your signaling has lapsed and I think for you, to you whatever has been limber will still dance full measure of remembrance equals space between shared past and now
your signaling has lapsed and I think for you, to you every building that was tall seems within reach full measure of remembrance equals space between shared past and now you can put away the letters of my name
the staircase which leads to empty clothing has been broken at last, I have kissed the final zeppelins from the catwalk of midnight-- their silver bellies ride over shivering towers of mercury to your heart.
now I must return to my windowsill and watch the breast of dawn fall slowly from its dark blouse while you ride on endless carousels through my mind with a face of blood.
Some great comments over here about the issues at hand and the larger ones that fuel them. Chris, Mark, Desmond -- thanks!
I've think I've received votes -- thanks, voters! -- from just about everyone who's going to vote; what I'm seeing is that most members want a change, if only a cosmetic one.
I do feel, by the way, that anarchy, even in Bloggerworld (Burgerworld?), has its place, and I also believe that tweaking, poking, irritating egos is a good exercise if it's wa(rra)nted. I'm also of the opinion that As/Is visitors/members/commentators should be able to take chances if they so desire, but as Chris points out, backs can only take so much weight; the recent loss of some of As/Is's longtime posters substantiates that fact rather starkly.
Anyway, here's the deal: I like the message-board effects -- and I think most folks like them -- of As/Is comments, and I want to keep this somewhat unique set-up. But "Anons" are done here. I don't think that'll solve everything, but at least each commentator will be required to come up with a name.
gestures kind natural this sounds wanderings certain one can explain of visible our they as not already fleeting that reading and if this sort madness fleeting explain laugh of aeneas that reading and this and spoke plain gestures plain this natural how natural many wanderings plain gestures madness fleeting natural like our language explain laugh not out they memory natural language senses wanderings certain aeneas certain forgotten sort madness beauties things madness fleeting they spoke plain gestures because where are not or things, not things
" A mere.. ragweed.. anon annoys" takes lots of pot shots at the populace
"..an entire sector.. infected with paranoia ..lecturing, exhorting, explaining.. related.. to frustrated.. facing.. "
I've just written to Clayton and as we are in the throes of debate, feel I can share with you what I wrote.
A few thoughts on the banning debate
1 - As regards banning annonymous comments, I would say no.
2 - I think that by doing this it would stifle opinion. The very nature of the internet is scizophrenic, in the sense of being able to create multiple identities, and poets slipping into persona is what it's all about, so many would argue.
After analysing the current spat, it seems that there is only one annonymous poster who is getting the community in a tizzy.
I must admit to finding the whole situation good fun. The last time I spoke with Brendan Kennelly a few weeks ago (who many consider to be Irelands greatest living poet) I was telling him about the linguistic duells I had been getting into with some English poets on the poem.uk chatboard. (see "bores on the boards" poem from a few weeks back). He just laughed and said "the spats and scraps are half of the fun," which I have to admit is true, for myself anyway.
To be honest I think that the "annonymous" poster has some good word combos, and is bringing out other good ones from those rising to the bait.
"tweak your self-congratulations...cultural mental illness... bannable bannas" etc.
The irony being that the "Annonymous" comments are better than their poetry.
It's not as if the comments are at the high end of personal insult. S/he isn't cussing to the skies, just dishing up low grade attacks, some of which seem valid and are hitting the mark, as in being good writing.
Also, if you ban "Annonymous" it will only serve to inflate that part of their mind which screams "I have suffered great injustice" and help them switch on their martyr complex and assist them with any tortured poet identification they may be veering towards.
I would advise to just let it run its course. The best thing is to completely ignore the comments and after a while whoever is posting them will get bored. By making a big deal of it is only serving to fuel their ego.
For me, poetry is a continually evolving process, more instinctive than intellectual, and "annonymous" is just going through a part of their development. Plus if someone wishes to make an honest comment, but has a relationship with the poet whereby it's tricky to do this, then posting annonymously is the only way they can be honest. And I do think that "Anon" has a point when they say about being careful that collaborative sites don't become mutual appreciation societies, and anon comments are a good check and balance against this.
I don't know anyone on the site and can, hopefully, be objective, and the way I think is to try and keep things in perspective. Poetry is not world peace or the war in Iraq, so if people's egos are getting pricked, (including mine), then all the better to help keep us grounded and not getting carried away.
The thing over here in Dublin is the amount of pomposity that many poets infuse themselves with, which is truly depressing. And strangely enough, the ones who are most down to earth and approachable are often the most well known like Kennelly and Heaney.
Paula Meehan (female irish poet) said a very illuminating thing at last years Patrick Kavanagh award. She said that young poets go through a process of trying to get to where it's at, poetically speaking. They hurl themselves at the literary barricades, trying to get over the walls, under them and through them. Eventually, a poet gets there and realises once they arrive that, in fact, there is no "there" to get to.
This has been true for me. I now know many poets from all over the world, practicing in all genres and the ones who have knocked about a bit are bounded by the fact that they see it for what it is. Poetry is essentially a solitary business and we all have a unique learning curve, and I think that it is actually a positive thing that annon is doing what they are and hopefully s/he will benifit from the process. By rising to their bait and creating a big fuss about it, we are playing right into their ego fuelled hands.
a non sensical lingustically innovative lyrical poet called Kev
"let's 'ave it anon.
Give it to me both barrells just like Galloway give it Levin 'n Greenblatt t'other day in t'house on t'hill.
I know you have something in your heart that's true
moving confusingly assured through the music of creation like a flame dancing in the depths.
A burnt fuse of past lives is the pyramid of dust weighting your soul's earth
and will return to it's fold below the sod the toll of your logic
once words have dispersed and twisted into submission the slave of another's will driven art"
My initial reaction & emailed response to the first of the questions asked several posts below by Clayton was yes, ban all anonymous comments. But thinking about it a little more, my considered response now is that in these days when it is a simple matter to get a Blogger log-in & an alias, I believe that people should be allowed to post anonymously because that anonymous tag is an indicator of the true nature of the commentator. (Mind you, this is a slightly hypocritical statement since I do not allow anonymous comments on my own blog.)
That said, my response to Clayton's second question remains the same. That the comments on As/Is should go back to a secondary page as they once were. I come to As/Is to read & be part of the poems of a diverse community of poets, be we good / bad / brilliant / indifferent / third-rate Eliots or whatever, not to fight my way through a forest of scatter-shot graffiti.
I'm there with Chris saying Fuck Off very loudly. We have been stung by mosquitoes, & reacted. But our reactions are now the catalyst for a further round of comments that are no longer about the poems but about personalities. They are insulting, & they are injurious. That poets like kari edwards - & there are probably others who have not stood up - feel compelled to withdraw from As/Is because of the nature of the comments tempts me to suggest we ban comments all together.
But I won't go as far as that. Just ask that the visibility be taken away. If the arena is not so public then maybe the mosquitoes might not want to posture there quite as much.
DDT should never be used. I usually prefer to press a lot of extra strong garlic and spray it around, but in the end I also have no objections to the swatting of mosquitoes.
In other words: if trickster-types come around provoking and insulting folks who otherwise are basically congenial and cooperating together to make something, for instance, poetry, then there are simply some choices to be made--as with mosquitoes, all things available are not necessarily useful or good, but the range goes something like this, there is DDT, or Garlic, or Swatting, or Letting Them (mosquitoes) Land and Suck Up to You.
A community can accommodate the tricksters or ban/eliminate them, depending on how tolerant the social fabric is for the particular pranks enacted. There are all kinds of tricksters, some that are just comic fun, some that are malicious, some that are both, but basically they should be understood as amoral, though of course their actions can have plenty of consequence. Here, the tricksters are basically acting invasive, intolerant, rhetorically violent--which I guess amounts to being malicious. In either case, the animals can't be blamed for anything, especially not the human tricksterish social-pose, which is all about being the center of attention, and hoping to be so for a long time, and at the expense of others. Odd to note how advertising is also all about that, eh? Tribal cultures have lots of variations on understanding or dealing with tricksters and hey, it can be fun to have a nice little self-righteous, know-it-all poetry-coyote, -crow, -vulture, -badger, or -rooster-full-of-Auden (or hey, why stop there?--why not just call on the American king of poetry, Harold Bloom...) trying to hop on your back every now and then, right?
Mosquitoes, tho?--hey, they are more innocent, less worthy of poetry, much easier to deal with.
Anyway, it's about boundaries and limitations--how those work, ya kno? My limitation is that I already know it's not my rhetorical job to show unruly folks a better way to be in the social sphere. I'm thinking of it this way, in terms of a notion of Gloria Anzaldua's: the problematic of "this bridge called my back." That's where, when someone is acting stupid, intolerant, invasive, hateful, and on the attack, all the while expecting me to similarly engage with them or to excuse their ignorant behavior, then I'm not going to engage with them personally because "my back" is not their "bridge." Except to make clear the limits of my tolerance, I don't have anything else to say to them because to engage with them is also to put myself in the position of making my back a bridge for their bullshit, for their disrespectful behaviors that I did not invite. And neither did anyone else here invite that kind of crap. To engage them would be another way to let them continue to use me or others badly. So, I just send the clearest signal I can of refusal to engage--which in this case, is to say 'fuck off' (sometimes it has to be said more than once, and sometimes in several ways). What can be heard aloud right now is: me telling them No, I don't want to play your game--No, I don't want you in my personal space--No, get lost, I have nothing to say to you. Get it? If not, then I have to ask this: what part of fuck off do you not understand?
In a more idealistic world their violence and intolerance might be tolerated in the interest of helping them learn to take responsibility for their actions in this, the larger social sphere. Their tricksterish play could be absorbed and treated with some compassion, or even some humor which is what it sounds like they could use to counterbalance some of their excess violence toward others. Compassion of that sort, however, would take a lot of patience on the part of the rest of the community. Moreover, it would take lot of investment into making them and their noxious behaviors the center of the community. The antic behavior, then, would continue to be the focus of the community. Heck, it could go on forever that way, ya kno? In that regard, my opinion is that it would not serve the community very well, even if it would serve the tricksters, who could continue to be cute & violent and rude & intolerant as long as the community had patience for it, right?
But unfortunately, we are limited here, and have to work within the non-idealistic constraints of, oh gee: primarily a model of cooperation rather than one of divisive and self-centered antics.
On limits, then, there may be more, but I see at least one limit as a freedom: when people act like jerks around me then I have no problem letting them know--that is my choice, thus my exercise of freedom. I do so whether or not they think they can be violent simply because they can hide behind anonymity.
On the other hand, if they own up to the social responsibilities that come with having a name, well, if we disagree, they and I and others can choose together to respond by dialogue.
the Fox soon apologized, realizing construction is big business, inviting those offended to come to Mexico and rest, the group, warmed by new measures in immigration, perhaps even a sand wall erected, could end each day as a line of sandy calves, a sign of their willingness to work,everyone trampling the wall, one by one,as each leader's name is called
1/ gray pronunciation stalls leakage of light within the eye considering the drive north and purpose brought to touch-read surface still inferred along an interstate apart from one degree of freedom
2/ how many aspirations does it take to stretch the eyesight in which vigilance has overtaken free-form posture negligent amid presumed worlds averaging some measure of fuel
3/ the purpose of writing down the facts and infidelities is never to decipher voltage from its absence rather to condone spontaneous new growth where metalscrap has prevailed
4/ insolvency of heart yields while not yielding anymore if ever the poverty remains intact a deeper paucity bleeds through the rigid skin pale next to luminescence more contagious than each recipe for loss
5/ indulgence grows few children fewer trees results in tippled levels ready for the discard pile no plane can rescue although hope resils its way through most unlikehood
6/ presence limited to this moment is catalogued among infractions of procession meant to mark daylight in the foreground of habitual darkness candling through resolute intact replenishings averting eyes yet owning a preliminary bounty to be brought alive
My apologies to Kari; while I disagree with what she said, this is not the proper forum for the sort of response which I presented. My post only egged on Mr. Anonymous and caused more trouble. We are here to write poetry, not snide commentary.
I think the illusion that all should be open and we should welcome all with open arms is foolish and simple minded. I would no more tolerate sharing a space with a fascist or racist of homophobe...or george bush
I think that all is open and equal playing field is a liberal myth, there are times to draw a line in the sand and say no!!.. these are the bounties I will not allow.. abuse, racism, homophobia, sexism, thoughtlessness, and foul language.. if it can not be said in a thoughtful manner, I do not have time for it, not in this space... not all spaces are the same... and there are different boundaries at different times
within any community that comes together there is usually a shake-out to what is needed, maybe now is the time for all to come together in a public space, this blog (or another, or email) and see what the intended desire is and move forward or not and close the books.
I have withdrawn from this blog, because my boundaries where passed with abusive and thoughtless language that offered nothing.
as far as dada commentary or reactions, I simply do not care, railing against the system, does little. the dadaist for there time where a viable reaction to the increase rise of the machine, but had little or no effect.. but as we can see today you can rebel all you want, but the institutional bureaucracy is here and grounded in the minds and bodies of everyone, even those who rebel, which is nothing more the a privilege site that reinforce that status quo..
ranting serves no purpose in the machine but propagating the machine.. the only way out is not to be a part of it...
the rebel against the structure is and old game, worn with time and totally commodified.. let the machine sink into its own waste.. and if you see this as the machine, why waste your time... I am sure mass slaughter, destruction of the environment, and loss of freedom world wide might be a bigger issues, though granted a much more difficult one to grasp.. and how about the melting polar caps.. more important then the pitiful rumblings of a few poets.. really..
there are other intentions, bigger then being the bad one at the party..
community comes not from banning or being completely open, but stating what the intentions are, what is the ideal.. what are we trying to do here?
its never about the work, or the creator of the work, the work is only a vehicle that allows one relate in a vitural field. to open the boundies of the phsyical world..and to offer a gift or to communicate and share ideas.
Folks, apologies for the short administrative interruption. I'm considering the following changes for As/Is:
1) Banning all "Anonymous" comments.
2) Exercising the right to ban registered Blogger users who consistently abuse the comments feature. In other words, if three or more members of As/Is complain about the same individual and their complaints are legitimate, said individual will be history. Appeals will be possible, of course.
I'm giving members the chance to vote on these two propositions before I go ahead with them, so send me your emails [claytonacouch AT gmail DOT com] by 5/20/05 with a YES or a NO next to 1) and/or 2) if you've got opinions on these matters.
his name is floppy clownface flapping noodle-jointed around the streets driven by (exhale) you and (inhale) me that's his locomotion the breath of strangers his name is a fragile crackle into my telephone handset I'm blushing the blood in my cheeks is named after him how do I explain ? if he doesn't repair his trousers the earth might eat him but I'm not his mother although there is part of him (not his pants) that would happily take residence in me; all that free placenta. tasty.
Monsters trapped in human bodies jostle war with world peace and untether your song of hollow moral concepts swaddled in the bright cloth of defunct language gone daft in the spirit of the modern age. Neo classic pillars of abstraction with your artless blather of throwaway lines, sow fear with the proliferation of words like right punishment, vengence and retribution. Bruiser gods raining word shells upon or consciousness, blow minds bland and sanatise banality to purge your hearts of accountability when debates cease and the naked dead return your dividend of talk in crisp cold flesh packaged in body bags and draped in the flags you have hijacked. Come, hoodwink citizens, lead them to believe your cause is just and unrelated to commerce or cash black gold below the surface of desert lands.
the stiff woman said - I haven't been able to move my arms or the diametrically opposed legs wedded to them by some accident of linguistics for years now and, y'know, I don't miss it that much except this itch behind my ear is driving me crazy, I envy the cat.
the live woman said - I've been awake too long and my eyes are blackening and sinking unattractively so I avoid mirrors but, what can I do? nights are far more flattering for the complexion so I prefer them to days and, anyway, I'm prone to sunburn. I've been drinking a lot of cocktails in big glasses and smoking Gitanes, it seems appropriate.
the deaf woman said - the blind get too much fucking publicity with their supersonic hyperbolic hearing, just goes to show, people'd rather hear shit than open their fucking eyes. does my vision fatten and swell into the part of my brain starving for sound? I guess, but who cares? go ahead, ask me what crimson looks like. I don't fucking know.
Deep Waters     [ image ] for Alfred Hitchcock & Tippi Hedren & Alex Gildzen
Unlike most of Magritte's birds is neither egg nor simulacrum. With blood. Wondering which way to turn. Le sang froid will take the woman's coat from off her back. Or. Le sang chaud will whisper in her ear & wake her from her statuary. Or even le sang très chaud. Will influence a Hitchcock movie.
it was just a sandwich just a salad served in a booth we were undivided from our thoughts our present held our past irresponsible for what we were that day he looked as young as change left on the ground we spoke about grandfather's birthday same day as America's steam engine we would ride around the yard before potato salad friend chicken cole slaw root beer fiddle music tin tones of the clanky upright piano sour the way that chuch chimes always sound I thought his eyes looked maybe twenty-five with innocence that comes with believing loving anything unchecked on purpose over years
As the impact noted, it will restate itself at a discounted rate, from armed robbery, let's say, to the results of all healthy competition. The dread of net worth, as with any old drip, waits for the nastiness before mentioning the factors that limit the hereditary levels of trust.