Saturday, October 23, 2004

Sirs or Madams,

I am naked in Cape Town in South Africa and the director of projecting implementation with the South Africa Department of Naked Resources.

First and foremost, I apologize using this lack of costume to reach you for a nudist business of this desuetude, but this is due to confidential body hairs and espresso booty call, especially prompt access to reposed nudity. I have declined to seek co-operation with you in the buff hereunder for the benefit of all parties animals.

Within the Department of Naked Resources where I work as Nudist Director, and with the cooperation of four attractive other top super-modular officials lacking clothes, we have in our toweling off area an overdue naked copay totaling Twenty One Million, Five hundred Thousand United States Undressed Dollars, roughly three times the worth of the attractive naked people in Southern California. We want to transfer assistant swinger party cooperation of a foreign company party or individual happy time lunch break haha to receive the salty fun on our expense account in Bahamas with our clothes left behind.

A reliable foreign undressed non-company swingers party should receive such fun. Alas, we are handicapped in the circumcision, a naked embarrassment, as the South Africa Civil Service Code of Conduct does not allow us to operate offshore circumcisions, hence your importance in the whole transaction.

This amount $21.5M USD represents the balance of the total naked value executed on behalf of my unclad Department by a foreign strip poker firm. We the officials over-dressed deliberately, to our regret. Though the actual contact cost have been paid to the nudist original, leaving thunderbolts in balance to the tune of the said moment of really really needy, which we have in priceless photos. Our principals got approval to resubmit photo requests by Key-Tested Non-Pornographic Telegraphic Transfer Pleasure, or mail them to you know who. Any naked accountant will provide you flimsy excuse or diaphanous underwear, your choice. Application of oils and lotions through the Ministry of Just Us Here in South Africa for the transfer of photo rights and particular contact to you shall carry the benefit of extremely compliant.

I have the towel of my partners involved. To propose that should you be naked to assist us in the transaction, you share of the sum 20% of the total picture, while me and my colleagues receives the negatives and downloads. All miscellaneous expenses and suntan ointments are included.
Also your pubic area specialization is not a hindrance to the successful execution of this transaction.

Confirm whether or not you are naked in this picture.

If you are not, it will enable me to scout other talent to carry out this deal. I want to assure you that my position makes the picture. This claim possibly provides you with a very strong impression of us. Please, remember to treat this matter very confidential because we will not contort former exposure as we are still acting naked in Government Service.

Positive response should be accompanied with your last underwear so I can reach you know what, with or without you know who. I await your anticipation of your fullest co-operation.

Yours faithfully,

Attn/ Dear Sir, Madam,

I like apelike through this medium for your pantry to secure an opportunity to invest and join you with business in your wildlife country.

I have a substantial common heritage honourably traced to invest in your orange ourang-utang country. In very lucrative monkey business of which you are vise grip executing adventure over mammal plenty, mutual feet benefits of us all, more or less not slightly.

Your able marzipan-thrilled mandrill making co-operation become my business, your country creates Darwinian money on ideas marketing human many. Will invested properly, managed type of invasion, after money all along: all I transferred is your custody with assistance.

Meanwhile, on bank indication in foreign game reserve (chimpanzee), your willingness to handle this insincerity by protecting our wildlife
and upon your adaptation to criminal climate, this prop mission. Procedure amount involvement and mutually agreeable rhesus monkey owes your percentage holding for help me to secure zoo in release of deposition investing money in making mammal now, also research grants in vivisection mode.

I shall glad to reserve this respective opportunity for desire, but do urge you to meet the ape outside your immediate attention. It deserves looking forward to your opposable thumb, if only human were the cost.

Yours Faithfully,

John Leonard.

only one death in Boston during the grand celebration of the Red Sox's victory in the ALCS. good work everyone! if the Sox win the Series, don't forget the matches!!!

Friday, October 22, 2004

begging your pardon but I must vent. Beth, one of my brothers and I took my father to a neurologist. just to get an official word on what we knew. a bit harrowing. not alzheimers, but dementia deriving from some mini strokes my father suffered some years ago. the doctor asked if dad had any children and he said no. for grandchildren, he named the three of us. dr gave my father a couple of 2-digit numbers to multiply. my father, who was an electrical engineer, worked at the problem earnestly. didn't get the answer right but had the process. watching him struggle was like seeing a dam say yes to more rain. he's going away, words are tricky, it's almost funny, how imprecise our living is, let alone our language. he's still here, I love him because I can't stop love, nights are long. do you ever wonder where your words go? you should start. my father was seven the last time the Red Sox won a World Series.
great picture of Arthur Rimbaud at Anny Ballardini's blog, as well as some of the young feller's poetry, both original and translated. the picture reminds me of Emily Dickinson portraits: there's a shitload more there than the surface niceness. I think of the older Rimbaud a little like the last image of the hero of The Magic Mountain (I stupidly can't think of the character's name) (yes I can: Hans Castorp), that ghostly soldier. I forget where I read that Rimbaud might've been, outside chance, an inspiration for Kurtz in "Heart of Darkness". gun runner, slaver, ex-poet making his way after eschewing poetry. and just to tangent further, I saw "Apocalypse Now" for the 1st time last summer. what a heap of malarkey. some nice moments, nice images, but criminy, what a potful. Brando was just plain silly, didn't anyone else notice? but anyway, good of the other AB to pour a flowing flagon of Rimbaudian brew. like Stein, Rimbaud did what the post-moderns thought they invented.
Erin's reading Flatland, the 19th century book about a 2-dimensional world. makes me think of Curtis Faville and his life in the comments boxes on Ron Silliman's blog. the life of Comments Box Curtis brings some philosophic qustions to mind. I mean besides what the hell's going on in his life. he lives dependent on Ron's whim. if Cuetis desires to go forward, he must wait until Ron posts. if Ron doesn't post, Curtis cannot go forward. think on that a moment. he can go backwards, but where's the thrill there? when traveling, Ron's posts become sporadic and usually, being on the fly, not offering a lot of commentary potential. howevet, for Curtis, I suppose it's a matter of any box in a storm. how many dimensions does Curtis live in? I might say 2, and I might say one. I dunno for sure. he 'saw' the picture of CD Wright that Ron posted a while back. is that seeing the same as mine, with the optical nerve and all? or is it more like a paramecium? I think more study should be made of Curtis of the Comments Box.




I am the best project manager golfer with the great Nigeria National Petroleum Corporation. You bet I know you will be surprise instant to receive this kind letter seeking for your insistence in golf club. To be caddy for Tiger Woods, I got your e-mail address through a close relation of his who is right now with Nigeria. Chamber of commerce thought I disclosed to him what I will use it for. I only requested for the business in question to transfer US$12,000,000, caddy fees, club dues, and so on for so and so. Do you play golf? Ha ha ha.

This sum became an over voiced sum bogey which we did purposely eagle, during when my corporation awarded contact to some foreign state-of-the-art foam handle for best darn driver in the game. I as the project manager masterminded the hole contact, three par eagle, in which the foreign golfers dully received their total contact, leaving over voiced an ace in the hole. The sun floating in the AFEX BANK OF NIGERIA transferred to a foreign bank account, a slight mulligan when no one was looking. Hole in one! Well!

We are the official plaid pants concern still active in the Civil rule of conduct on golf course, careful use of bumpershoots, restricted ladies. Does not this warrant us to operate offshore golf course? Thus we strongly seek for your caddy assistance in providing your bank informations where we can transfer this fun idea, and a round of scotch. Please, you are very important in this transportation to the eighteenth. Every document covering fun golf will be in your constant country club as soon as positively from you.

So all what we need now is your banking ability to keep it topspin-based, on nature of all golfing buddies, golfballs with logos, and visor with sponsor company logo. We mapped 30% of you for the golf club, 60% of us for tee shots, while 10% we mapped for any prowess of expenses on links, including caddy tips. To be incurred on the process of this legally par for course transfer locally here or Abroad, we incur the club stewards. Your bank informs the completed banking and golf buddy days, into mirrored room of 19th hole.

This golf club will be your nominal pending. My arrival for final disbursement birdie will receive this information. Please betray the investing part of your old country club in time for a bottle of Chivas Regal with the boys.

I await you immediately, tee time. With your full info-structure, banking needs, securities profiles, et al.

Best regards

I know I hadn't ought to make bold statements such as below, but I guess it is okay to be carried by what one does, and to recognize that one has put an effort in. it's not a matter of comparatives and superlatives. I am not a wunderkind but someone who took a long time finding a way to write that belongs to my life, not to my favourite writer's. we're all on different schedules. I'm 52 and will be receiving my BA in the mail next week. only took 34 years. I'm a little embarrassed that I've piped up my thoughts on praxis amidst people like Henry and Jonathan, for everything I attempt in that arena is a labour for me, and they obviously are much better spoken than am I. and yet I am not embarrassed by my work, not my poetry, not even this silly blog. truth to say, I am writing what I want to read. not all of what I want to read, of course, butI feel like I make earnest steps in the right direction. apologia sua writing vita.

Thursday, October 21, 2004

shit! I'll match my million poems with anyone's:

R/ckets & S/entries

Trade Station

and seriously speaking, my poetics is mainly voiced in my persistance. I haven't asked for 'your love' tho maybe I would like it.
"Reading as a means of control. “Don’t look back.” To which Satchel Paige add’d: “Something might be gaining on you.” Isn’t reading the thing without social constraint? The most free and freewheeling thing? The way the doors of one book empty one into another, or several others, in uncontrol’d and uncontrollable succession? To make it a need or a duty, or tack on a programmatic hindrance like “coverage”? Fishy."-- John Latta, as of 10/20/04. and don't eat fried foods that angry up the stomach. I agree, 'the way the doors of one book empty one into another'. which, as I type that out, as an odd image, with the sense of books being containers for the reader. to keep up with it all is impossible, and I would rather run to my excitements as much as possible.
god, I shall have to write about the Red Sox. I don't mind saying that I gave up on them. I gave up on the when they blew their lead early in the season and NY took over. I gave up on them later when they got spanked in NY. I gave up on them when they lost the 1st play off game. I gave up even more on them when they got blown out. I am sure I gave up on them on numerous other occasions, speaking just this season, but have forgotten the reason. I suspect I will give up on them plenty more times in the days and years to come. for sure I will give up on them when the NL entry scores its 1st run. I went to bed each night before the games ended, ready to give up on them as needed. howbeit, night before last I woke at 2:00 and had to get online to find out if unthinkably the Sox managed to tie the series. it's exciting. I can't wait to read the paper. last night it was 2-0. I took the dog out, an emergency, and returned just after Damon hit the grand slam. I finished up the dishes later and came back to have missed Damon's 2-run shot. in sooth, I hate getting caught up in this. sports is a sink hole. especially baseball, as you can watch an entire game thinking you'll just watch the next 1/2 inning. sadly, I haven't the energy or commitment to go into Boston and help trash Kenmore Square. am I bereft of spirit?

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

and what I really answered was that poetics is a schtick. Jonathan's phrase gives me pause, as I don't see poets actually following their poetics but leading it. a schtick is poetics, perhaps. a bold, variously dramatic statement of post facto intent. not inappropriate to take seriously, however.
A schtick is not a poetics. I don't know if this is true, and I am not being flippant. what is a poetics? is it descriptive, predictive, prescriptive or even proscriptive? does one fashion a poetics then fit one's work into that? I don't think so, or not usefully. that process sounds bass ackwards. I think the process is more like water finding its own level. one finds what it is one must and will write. the poetics becomes a description, even an apologia for the writing one has done. people start out wanting to write poem. not apoem such and usch, a poem. I think a lot of retrofitting occurs as one defines one's poetics. I think poetics has a lot of just keeping busy while one is not writing. it is a bit of song and dance. and having said that, I also find poetics discussions useful for the energy that they often offer.
Silliman writes of his enormous collection of contemporary chapbooks, 7' of them. I have perhaps 3', which seems like scads. I wonder how many of them he reads for pleasure, how many for use, and how many just to be up on things. that last category is the least interesting to me, tho I don't suggest that it can't be highly interesting and useful for Silliman. personally, I find the category of Poetry limiting. that is, the issues concerning poetry as poetry--I mean poetry qua poetry--seem unbearably stuck in time, id est popular tastes. you know, where once it was Romantic poetry, or Beat, now LANGUAGE is the beat. I would sooner see the categories washed away. when other times and cultures are considered, the newness of the contemporary new seems a lot less new. I'm not debunking contemporary work, just see it as part of a larger concern of writing. I mean, what the hell IS a failed poet (however frivolously that term may have been wielded)? unpublished? unread? incompetent? I think a failed poet is one who doesn't write. if a poet feels that he or she does what is given to him or her, I think the term failure can't be used. not to say I have to like that work.
1st thing I noticed with Tim Peterson's Faux/e book, Trinkets Mashed into a Blender: a steady narrative push. I like narrative. a conjunction that Jeff Harrison and I discovered, that keeps us piling up a collaboration together, consists of a strong interest in narrative. I believe (and I've written this before) that the strong novels of this I guess it's still a post modern era have something to offer poets. the Romantics were pretty narrative strong as well, especially Byron. reading Tim's poems, one notes a story there. and yet the story isn't the point. more important is the structure of story, the container for the thing contained. well, I think so me. it's not the facts that interest but the impulse behind them. Tim appears to use cut up some, which confounds the reader's urge to clutch the narrative thread, as a life for him/herself to live. Tim's not writing soap opera. I think of Ashbery's poem "Idaho". also the novel Ashbery and Schuyler wrote together, A Nest of Ninnies, a book that I totally love. a novel without character development and without plot. therr is a lyrical voice here but Tim doesn't rely on it. these are my 1st impressions.
Open Office word processor has a feature of finishing your typing. type a few letters and it suggests the word you intend. if it's the one you want, you hit enter. will take a bit to learn to use the technique. I'll have to randomly apply it sometime, take whatever word comes up. a similar method is to run spell check and accept words randomly. I find such techniques fun to use occasionally but there's probably more to the post-modern world (not that I am much acquainted with the post=modern world: where is it exactly?) than such tricks. that is to say, dependence on such methods seems limited.

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

reading some Oliver Sacks, John Dewey, Faux/e chaps and so on, in case you wondered.
I found Open Office, which being a suite of office programs, like unto Microsoft's. only free. maybe, with dial up, you'd prefer to pay a little for the cr-rom. still... is smaller than Mircrosoft version (likewise file sizes are), is compatible with Mircrosoft files. the internet economy still baffles me, but apparently it can make some people rich, like those nice Google boys. and here's another alternative to Msoft.
Tim Peterson has an ebook by way of Faux/e, to go with those recently by Joe Elliot and Christina Strong. I have not read any of them well enough to blurt grandly, but I like what I've read in all of them. I like the visual appeal of these works, of the typography. this is serious publication, just in case you thought online can't be.
speaking of librarians, aside from Henry Gould, I know John M Bennett ranks in that class, and Ivan Argüelles ranks in the ex-librarian class. I think there are other notable literary customers out there of the librarian persuasion. one of Winston Churchill's good lines is in reply to some Lady Astor type, who said she always treated her inferiours well. Winnie asked: where do you find any?
Jonathan Mayhew deleted a few Bemsha swinging posts for being attacks of spleen. I don't mind spleen, especially really well done spleen (Baudelaire's Bad Glazier and Beat Up The Poor come to mind, on the literature front). pettiness and irritability are part of our humanness, ok not the best part, but still. a little flintiness is cool. that's why I propose going after Jack Kimball. I'll need reasons why I should go after Jack, you know, to make the whole thing credible if not creditable. I hope I haven't read too many books on buddhism and lost my edge...
the author of
buy me in Tougher
Disguises notes
toward the
Duration of
Jaywalking Is
Melisma Margin to
Margin about my
calling and
Belongs in the
Circle Anchor write
or rung A new
collection The
of Sound Called
the Sub Toot
from this
December Recent
work of forthcoming
is from 26 Ham
88 Tiny
Cypress His
book have
appeared reviews in
many Boston Rain
Poetry Poker and
Jacket He publishes his
home in Northampton
his current
writing project
a manuscript is
The Year Of
Others Alarming
for the second time in two days, the Red Sox took Wagner's Ring Cycle into extra innings and won!!!
some of my best friends are typical 50 year old passive-aggressive librarians/failed poets
ouch, I got acid in the eye from reading at Café Latta. careful with that ax, Eugene! sometimes issues aren't issues, tho listservs and newsgroups teach us otherwise, but at least JL's entertaining. he's more entertaining when he engages in writing he likes or respects, however.

Monday, October 18, 2004

the atypical 50 year old passive-aggressive librarian/failed poet just called to say even failed passive-aggressive librarian/failed poets, typical or atypical, have feelings. this is hard to grant but my correspondent seemed sincere. I pass this along for what it is worth.
I'm down with this thinking. I know I am a skitterish reader, especially now with less time for placing nose in books. I jump all over the place. I think Jonathan is right that the sameness of current poetry owes to the sameness of what the readership reads. I like T Berrigan's reading as evinced in his poems and interviews (I have 2 books of interviews and they can be placed with his poetry: he could make the occasion poetic): he read every/anything. the boundaries of taste can stifle. I think even the term poetry stifles. aren't Wittgenstein and Heidegger poetic? the form of engagement is overemphasized. engagement IS the point.
I would like to meet the typical 50 year old passive-aggressive librarian/failed poet, check that person's pulse and hat size, you know, get an idea about what the person is all about.
for what it's worth: I've created another writing blog, trade station. it's just another project, of frequent short journalish bits. you can begin ignoring procedures now.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

a doodle Beth did. she teaches painting to a young girl at the homeschool cooperative that Erin belongs to, this was just a test of colours. I like its freshness.

beth doodle Posted by Hello

Dear Friend,

This is a propeller in context but actually an astrojet soliciting for your unreserved airplane in consummating an urgent radar requiring maximum gantry. Though this gunsel appears desperate, I can assure you that whatever calligraphy you would need to orbit or any other planetary thing you will need to launch regarding this property tax, will be adequately impaled to give you a clearer blip so as to arrive at a successful landing.

My hovercraft is Mr Adams Cole, a Senior Relations Astronaut with the CHAMPAIGN NATIONAL BIG BANG. A few eons ago a Foreign light year consultant/contractor with the Googolplex, Mr ARTHUR American made a numbered time (Fixed) Deposition for twelve calendar moon beams, running into scapegoats of Dollars in my solar system. Upon immaturity, I sent a routine rocket to his longitudinal address but got no retrograde motion. After a moon landing, I sent a reindeer and finally we discovered from his contract elves, that Mr ARTHUR American donated the Egypt Air Crash. On further postulation, I found out that he diddled without making a puddle, and all attempts to trace his atoms were fruit tree. I therefore made further attraction and discovered that Mr ARTHUR American did not declare any next time or relation to gravity including his Bank Deposit paperwork in our Bank.

Form past experiences ever come forward to claim the deceased fun. According to Irish Landing Law at the inspiration of 5 (five) years, the fun will be adorable and reverberate the ownership of the Ireland Government if nobody applies to claim the fun. In order to avert this development, I in mud time with an alien (the Chief Extra Terrestrial Officer in the bank) now seek your permutation to allow an eternal dove a backdated WINK in your name, so that the fun would be released to you as the new astronaut on behalf of me and my colleague, numbered sequentially if at all. We write yarns because we can only benefit from this fun to further our intended by using a front as aliens to get the raygun out. Concurrently, I will present you as the preteen of the fun so you can climb trees with the help of an attorney. This is simple. I will like your alien ship to provide immediately your FULL Attorney. The necessary docudrama will put you in place as the new space man of the fun. The moaning will then be released to your custodian by the bank, for useless shirts accumulate in the ratio of 70% for us and 70% for you. There is no risk at all as all the population for this
transgression will be done by the FULL Attorney in whom we have brewed
the transgression with a view to congratulating the successful execution of his transpiration. If you are interspatial and space cowboy of this transmigration take more than two weeks. Please retro rocket immediately via ether. Upon your ritual, I shall then prove you with more details and further explanation. That will help you understand the transmogrification.

No doubt this proposal will make you apeshit, please I employ your utmost concupiscence and will be arrested surely when this transmission would be most provable for both of us. Note also that we shall adhere your assistance to investment shores in your conch shell.

Buying your urgent action and response is prior to Us. Conclude this transparency as soon as awaiting your urgent ripeness.

Tanks and reargards,
Mr. Adams Cole
reading at The Lost Notebooks by Henry Gould while walking the dog. (uh Allen, the leash is stuck on this tree, whoa look! a squirrel!!! mmm the water in this puddle is delicious). that is to say, just now. on his blog, Henry's been giving context to some his writings (keep it up!), much of which, it appears, is inter-connected. in this 1st reading (I've scanned thru all the books Henry gave me, just to get a vague sense of the territory, and catch a few phrases), I can't say I get all the allusions and references. not that I expect to. as with Olson, Pound and lots of other writers, there exist public allusions and references, and private ones. the private ones are the toughies, being perhaps what the author him/herself might not be clear about either. the reader needs to find a way thru. if you've ever accompanied a labrador on a walk, you'll walk a fairly straight line while the lab makes butterfly trails (reference Yeats) all over the place. the reader is that lab, following the author in a way, but exploring all around. so I'm reading TLN without a lot of context. it's not that it is so dense, but that I'm only just getting the picture. and picture is a good term, because Henry's descriptive powers are quite precise. John Clare sticks out among the Romantics for being such a keen naturalist withal. a rural fellow, he intimately knew the flora and fauna he describes. no doubt Keats had seen nightingales, but his was such an imagination that he wouldn't just see a nightingale, or urn, or... the beauty of Keats' art, when it is beautiful, is when he connects that way. HD was similar in that imaginative force. HD and Keats transport themselves. Clare and Gould stick with the 'facts'. these are imaginative facts, I don't mean to paint them as unimaginative or prosaic. Henry deals with natural facts, and historical ones, his poetry rises from there. Keats and HD deal with mythic facts. I'm not setting up boundaries here, just attempting to describe. Henry doesn't overweight his pictures with, well, Egotistical Sumblime. Wordsworth has charms but I stumble when I notice the Anglican old fart that he became. that intruder. his descriptive power sags under the weight of his neat unexasperated thinking. Wordsworth refused to go even slightly crazy. that plangent sanity is pretty unique among the Romantics. you look at Dorothy's journals and see some of the scenes that became Williams's poems. her precise interest gets cluttered by Williams's sensible punchline. I think Henry is crazy enough, tho I guess I use the wrong term. he's focused, to be tactful, even somewhat obsessed. I really like the historical context here, early New England. I grew up in this area and know that the history here began, after a nod to Columbus, with the Pilgrims, jumped to the Revolution (hardly a man is now alive), jumped again to the Civil War, and that's about it. 17th century New England saw the seeds sown of the US that we now have. root causes and all that. rich imaginative territory, as Olson as well knew. you might want to check out Henry's other blog, whereat he makes his work available.