let's have a fight and not call it a fight let's call it a discussion let's restrain ourselves so what we say remains unsaid let's exchange what we have said we value and pretend that none of it exists let's also pretend we can survive as each not both let us reframe what we've declared as something other than and offer to recline decline incline lose spine as if were were one thing let's fail once and for all to be one thing let us insist upon our thoughts let's never talk let us think privately of how the world is for the world is this completely non-bombastic place let's say we live here both or each let us continue blocking off the senses from our minds let us invent new minds immune to other minds and think recall refresh resynch resist refine recline rescind recast
Take a spinet or harpsichord and split it into thin strips for making hats, bonnets, or baskets. Warm over a fire made of dried buffalo-dung. Flip once, letting it land in the dust of the last sand-trap between you and the green-- heads, you lose; tails, you lose. Place a silicon wafer on your tongue, and call it Jesus.
Lips teetering on the brinks of coffee mugs, we chattered beside the halting brook, green ferns standing all about.
"Into this wild Abyss the warie fiend Stood on the brink of Hell and look'd a while."
The point of being, doing . . . rather like finding in an East End junk shop a postcard photo of a yodeling group from your hometown, and yet conjuring up succulent meals for your friends despite the wartime austerities you, among others, faced.
rattling in the moist breeze on a historic evening of words surrendering in the mouths of politicians in sombre dress
grey hair dyed dark and tasteful ties with moderate knots
are the co-ordinates of sincerity in the eradication of war
}
Telly dressed leaders
- consigned to the history of a passionate cause lining pockets of co-operation in the equality of flags and parades -
become a jumble of yesterday's news holding the chips for tommorow's game
of cold coiled reality, torqued to a level of trust constantly tied, tested and untethered by events which depart and return with the simplistic consistency of two tribes lying in wait for a sign of belief
in each other's right to live on a land rich in the conflicting songs of a patriot dead who died for truth and lies put into their heads through centuries of silent wrongs and bloodthirsty rights.
[second] candied crutch dangles sur [simple] i [see] name [sub] stall the silver studd ed [dean] da dum [plus] pling airs that oblivion [bump] whose aleatoric amp er [blimp] sa [sonar] nds carrier finish the carpetting of the cubicles w [aver] ith [illsup] a whole some [sorry] pain [preen] ting [pari passu] of two fe male hu [mba baa] man [mons string] snak [tens] es such distant galaxies [goo] in their solvent skins skinks tails[' winds] go up [winking] to heaven [s scum] mulching phonesthemes the little lovers "me's" marriage's body [rafts] which puppet outrigging on strong vestigial winglocks [loom] interposing [pura] turban and turbine [binoculars] in the corollary of the wishing can you see this poet's amritsar [whistling] a couch where all the world will complex its jewel stinging will-skin amorphous jaguar volcano face that cruellest [cow of hello wine-sad castle rishi] of organizations atomicopulaquadra [mang] down in this well [ull] of infinite spiralling bunk [bat] bed uni verse [vasania scope] = "croaking toad cloud thorn"
The reporting quality fused with the specifics of what is noted, the integration of contemporaneity and nature, the alternating between concrete and conceptual, offer something vivid and new.
along afloat sleeping a fall the great inner start hid my boundless attempt of what must ablaze
that night his weather with shelter the influence dims from its form
a chain root be under my skin as lack conditions hips empting so passed into stillness
witness of the waking of which new danger is the movement of the curved wide heartbeat it sprouts
of course I love this darkness and change complexes as thought
a spider songs gestures his specific certainty celebrating to climb a fence it accentuates a time when ritual passes unified intellection curtails on his violets his comparison is what body would stand for reason
questioned hours assume a duplicative surface the spark scenting the smooth sidelong positions responding to not necessarily to what's right
indications to what uses touch befalling the insight implicitly to suggest there we rode the parable jammed full and rented as an art
the chair brushing my anklet has suggestions to how willingness logs and swarms in boundless simple property
both distance and care watch over the lyric fielding steps plucking disturbance from mind as sudden as fact lies toward and out only because towards is to gain some direction of age
but whole is hostility a passel of concerns the lens that shapes the existing whitening the sentence within the phrase entrapping the features of how falls worry the thoughts of clouds as they cover
Thank you Sheila. "this" instead of "the" brigs attention directly to the poem, the lyric's place in it specifically. I agree it does sound more wonderful, but I was trying to approach the lyric in a broader sense, away or apart from just my old phrasings.
Newness nets (USS cup puking zulu) not under contract cabaret under w/o not: clean clan hand web cam and (protestant 2000cm how done return post-ablist + press down?)
mail deneb lisa blue oberon felix tom . . . gatorbox black woody cherry stimpy smith pascal . . . oink nucleus noel neural naxos mueller . . . reef red ravi rambler raleigh raider
it's new, virtual cherry, and the bar . . . to his slightest neural twitch, reflexes cranked way . . . out of that blue-green Bolivian sky
Pacific Coast Rambler is the second . . . digital pulses, neural synapses fire Are you a gambler? By now it is, in addition, day neutral strawberries are produced . . .
look for the yellow or green nymphs . . . An amber gambler is one made from apple juice, custard--a yellow sauce used as a very neutral term
tan cafe claro violet violeta white blanco yellow amarillo DAYS OF THE WEEK DIAS . . . towel toalla (f.) MEALS COMIDAS apple manzana (f.) banana platano
the help afterwards. Neutral ground for both of us, black, yellow, red, and especially . . . you're a champion gambler? I never offered . . . in the big >>apple! I would have felt
something of the gambler's excitement in the attachment of some transparent neutral coating, of extreme fleeting apples, other than the yellow and the red
radio, black-and-yellow figurine (who looks . . . and the occasional apple are all stuffed . . . Milhouse, the unknown gambler, "Homer's Phobia . . . have any neutral ones? "May . . .
there a few apple-trees stand together . . . smoothly over the yellow floor of the . . . country with a gambler's desperatin, for it . . . cold and melancholy neutral tint, and . . .
ran past with a yellow piece of paper . . . m famished." The gambler drawled, ready and . . . she seized the neutral topic with great . . . sat together over apple pie and black
sexual connotations; and "neutral" words that become . . . by a dashing gambler. With Kathryn Grayson . . . 26270 Cross the Yellow River on a . . . in the Big Apple. In Spanish
Situation Language formal formal informal informal neither very formal nor very informal neutral Four main things help you to decide how formal or informal a . . .
are not simply >neutral vehicles of data . . . of cyan, magenta, yellow, black. As the . . . than an Apple one, Lincolnshire . . . apparently unsucessful, gambler). I understand . . .
jacket and a yellow sweater is dragged . . . ends up a gambler, heavily in debt . . . Virgin a golden apple and confesses that . . . pessimism. Not a neutral observer of history . . .
one of the Dutch still lifes he's sourced for the painting. Swatches of yellow on the painting's surface start to take form. These monochromes share the . . .
his amusement behind a neutral smile, secretly quite . . . Her tiny Adam's Apple bobbed up and down just above that yellow terrycloth of his . . . oh-so-sure gambler and the oh-so-up-
front of each corresponding border. The American dissembled his amusement behind a neutral smile, secretly quite pleased with himself. She was just too perfect
goes running by. The old grumbler sleeps, laid out by the Jacob's crackers, Dr Tipple's Vi-Cocoa, and a white theatre or a pink something coalescing all but one
sick on the sidewalk left side away street "gun, point" collision (vomit with vodka) right side up to the sun acute (ness) prostrate shuffled "proving the actual existence of the," clam'd face arm in elbow (chicken bit) jumble'd "tacos and beans" sleeve simile 'pugnance syndrome death coarse during "sick sidewalk 'festation" washing dog bowl water eye one motion low level "lift your, and sip" sand papered cheek motions and talking saying during less strength as valued is as declining 'rupt (that there) seeps lying on the ground (name?) hole-n-wall syndrome "interpreted, attacks it" can't see through it most moving to any level in the parking garage "taking that analgesic" wooden desk chair metal hesitate (ing) conducting one passport to another handy cycled from protagonist as principled into blistering up lips and face'd clamming derived scrapping shrunk stuttered (ingless) benefit-less disorderly damaging wrist turned out rested back (units her) sidewalk sickness
The President prays to his helicopter. "Why me, O, Lord, why me? Some folks sit on the fence, waiting for the voice from the whirlwind. I gotta make my own wind." Small needy voices in utero whisper to him. The President prays in his helicopter. Grass bends in his breeze. Dogs run away. The power button is carried aboard by an aide. It doesn't simply vanish when the President sets foot in his helicopter, heading for his weekend of prayer at Camp David. History seems to take a time-out as the President flies from one place to another. It gets up from its place on the couch and visits the fridge and the bathroom. To his dogs on the White House lawn the President shrinks to the size of a gnat in the gut of a huge whirlybird of prey. Picking at his scabs, the President soars above the drought-plagued farmland below him. "Why me, O, Lord? Why on my watch? What next? (he wonders) locusts and frogs? Babies dying in their mothers' rooms . . . I mean wombs. Why me, O, Lord? Why make it so hard for me to get the words right?"
Hal
Halvard Johnson =============== email: halvard@earthlink.net website: http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard
your tidiness is extrasensory your image, an amalgam of platonic sketch your heartbeat shatters nine-tenths of my privacy your accomplishments all in color even out the spectrum your indifference amounts to fluid sentiment your parts of speech conform to a spacific dwarf peach tree your ubiquity infers the everlastingness of mathematics your columnar appearance speaks to substance your woodwind instruments afford white space your instincts all possess a lifetime of finesse your health wears every shawl still in your home your mantra is a blueblood microphone your nautical accountability allows the pond to remain round your singing voice is sterling in a white row your intellect appears contagious your leaning to monastic shelter braves me your violets tilt in the direction of new prescience your intergalactic downtime thrust into the figurative sea your infinity is my patch of morning glories very plurally endowed
There are those birds concerned with resource, trend, and crime. They tend to bounce about talking to other animals about tolerance for gays, spending the rest of time aiding one another through illness and complex ideas as when to use forks and how much to breathe. They are the copyists tastes for how the sky should streak, the conditions, they say, for when all can look up at the clear many of us.
-- On close inspection, all literature is probably a version of the apocalypse... on the fragile border where identities do not exist... --Julia Kristeva, The Powers of Horror
on close inspection the I wanted
its m(ore)other or rather another figure, say Charles
or is petite re move the the sis an y more th an wamp um g or e pram sitter f ans the ob vio us us tan go in g a round th um b lan key sin gle d out ter rain
I'd like to invite you to join my blog http://sayingsome.blogspot.com but I'd have to invite you by email. So I'd need your email address - if you r ok with this??
Harry, might I persuade you to talk a little bit (here on the blog) about different textures and surfaces in your visual work, any thoughts you may have regarding what is happening in this area? I have found many surprises and confirmations in these works. Always interested in perspectives you might share!
yes. I would also be v interested in hearing some of your thoughts, even if they are not specific to this piece.
A lot of interesting contrasts, here..., esp. enjoyed the river of space that floats down the diagonal, crossing over the word asphalt, and a broken off portion of the word concentration(?)
I really like your work--it is a close second to "indie pen dance day" (haha). That is a tough act to follow :)
Sheila and Ryan thanks for asking. I agree with Ryan about "indie pen dance day."
About the textures and surfaces in the visual work… it's usually a "what if?" thing for me. What if I take a part of a non-visual poem and cut a piece out of it and rework it in photoshop? It then becomes, in some ways, a variation or a reinterpretation or a solo (using a musical metaphor) of the original. I try to do these things fast so the thinking process doesn't get in the way. I'm trying to surprise myself, actually. Similar to what a hay(na)ku would do, ya know? "oh, my" So, to sum it up, I would have to go back to the musical metaphor and say it’s really about improvisation and trying to create as small a gif or jpeg file as possible. The results work for me sometimes and other times they just look plain silly to me, but then, that’s just the way it is. Cheers, hks
Could be my thoughts, Harry, point for point. Except that you get surprised early; you're able to stop at first sighting of a new cool thing, I think. As for me, I get carried away, amazed at the things a simple photo editor can do. On the debet side this means my findings might seem a little over-worked, or trivial to the text at hand; on the other, I've been pleasantly surprised to find, with said editor, patterns of writing (whether it be lines, words, letters, or maps) that are not visible to the eye, not right away at least. But then again, I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for your example and encouragement. So, thanks.
ah, yes... surprised early and elated later, in tuscany it's always that way, take the trivial and up pops (to) the eye, not right away at least but rather then (but) shaping a melody against flat 5 chords --- it's the collaboration that makes it!
in fact, because of your v lovely Haibun(s) in Mudlark - i tried one recently!
it is on my new blog. i'll leave the link - but please do not feel obligated to comment on it.
Blog - www.lunanose.blogspot.com
the Haibun is called 'She Caulked Her Anthesis.' Of course it isn't as lovely as yours, but i tried after reading you (so i bet you can see the influence). [smile]
again, ever been, wander bound to the familiar, and followed to get home, which, unafraid how clear a wasted use, can as they are, roost to remember the slowly learnt, as a living, on the grace it owes, stands and sends and used to stand and become alight with only feelings, means so much, stay to be aware of the struggle, even for to be seen, there's need, there is here for the overtaken
inexorable turn aroma "around" stinky pants legs cannot without persuasion pulls his shoes on uniform entire wardrobe stench [late morning] not grimace "you're backyard" it's sun/shadow/leaves inert ash't bbq left one box stacks on another "just like yesterday," minimum (lack) new shorts green striped [who asks it] question "did your garments?" no grown sprung 'now? no laces roughshod't 3 boxes higher now massed (say shaggy) 'look't up temporary not a yard less step away (form 'genics) you're treatment stopped "just, yoga, salvation by faith, believer," average height 5'9' 'orable exit
(1) Comments:
Post a Comment