Saturday, June 04, 2005

antique Posted by Hello

up and thru Posted by Hello
hey! my ancient name is on THIS page!!! makes it seem like I was a real writer, once. or that I could've been a career, all in my instance. well, if my steps are trepidatious now, you should've seen me then. thru the years, shaking off influence, taking a stab at, circling around. I could tell you the whole grey story, the main theme being persistance--a good Protestant value, and probably the only one I'll keep--until rattle and shake I broke on thru to the other side. how it feels, at any rate. I'm not really regretful of this particular trip down the road.
my bike back and tuned up to the key of glee (I can't do that myself, always make things worse), so I went out early, before 7:30 (had to walk the dog 1st of course, we have an understanding). and tho bringing the camera impedes, I wanted to go where I had not photo'd. a bit of National Park dedicated to the Battle Road fo 1775. for the past 20 or more years, homes and businesses have been bought up by the Park Service, so that this historic area can be returned to how it looked in seventy five (hardly a man is now alive who remembers that famous day). so a lot of what was once private land has been opened up to the public. it's a good place to run, bike, ski or walk, farmlands and trees and marshes. the wet places have boardwalks so that you don't get your feets wet. I came thru one time when the purple loosestrife and goldenrod were in bloom, and the colour just about knocked me down. why I'm a painter: I like colour. there's a house along the way that's being restored. it was an inn back in the day, where the good folk of Lincoln rabble roused, and where they gathered when the churchbells rang on April 19th, to kick some British butt. I've listened to the rap of the guides twice. the 1st time the fellow was fairly ordinary and laconic. the 2nd was much more keenly tuned politically, directing his commentary specifically but reasonably against the current regime. his discourse was well-based historically, so there was jimjam to his words. I get excited about this stuff, that sense of the US scrambling with its own intelligence, plus the calming influence of 'simple' farm life, as they have some farm activity going here, including livestock. and just as I came to this place, I noted that my tire was flat. of course I had nothing to take care of it with, nor a cell phone. so I walked the 3-4 miles back home. not a big deal. past the 2nd largest airport in Massachusetts. past the birthplace of Thoreau (not the exact house, I guess, but the site where he was raised), past yard sales galore. I canna find where the leaked is but have since gotten a new tube and furthermore seemingly got the tube in okay. ready for more travail on the road and off it. a few good pictures along the way. note: I don't think I can bring myself to start uploading to Flickr or such. it would cause a flood. I like the pictures within the context of this blog, which I hope isn't a "dramatic-monologue-in-advance", as Tim Peterson suggests blogs are.

lean Posted by Hello

house Posted by Hello

Friday, June 03, 2005

just found this Ganick link via one of Jukka's blogs. Faux Press produced a cd of this text. the work is 'typical' Ganick: expansive, strange, obsessive, thougtful, and fascinating.
a longish dabble at Three Spot. I twiddled with bits from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, alternating with 'real' writing. I may add to it. I offer experiments on my blog, including experimental opinions. this is process for me. I know there's a general askance of look at me, but tho that exists of course, I natheless am serious about the results of my curiosity. I don't need to defend myself, either I'm interesting or I aint, but I do invoke a self-consideration in what this blog does.


I loved my father and the town and every. But the telling was conclusive, which isn't very spell. I loved my father to the point and then was only saying. but saying is a goal, sometimes, and could be love. Or at least an idea, and I will be true. True is a measure, however false. I loved my father as the weakness grew. The weakness knew me, so I was refreshed. I loved my father in pieces until I could only haul the factory light to the point of saying. I say this now and said it then in one long light. I loved my father with a left and right, those directions I was born with. I loved and left, like my father did. He died and cost a climate or a telling phrase. Who knows, in the need of saying? I loved my mother in the toss and fall. Who wouldn't, we have our range. I loved the mom and dad, and have to look away. Don't you, or will you ever? We could talk that. the cellos combine, a plump and foreboding lovely wrench. I last with father, mother, drawing to a close. I draw, you see, and the pictures please only in the minute. The minute is mine or yours or when I say I have a time. Father, closed or open, the resistance spends a dynasty.

green Posted by Hello

Thursday, June 02, 2005

hi, God hates you!!!

I honestly don't know where to put the gonzo collective represented in the link below. it's easy enough to figuratively squash them like bugs--that's how we all argue--but how to comprise them as fact? we squash bugs by 1st implementing a barrier, that the bug's oddity and somehow grossness deserves to be made rid of. the root-gnawing grubs that infest yards and gardens look creepy, but they are just living within their terms. so too, alas, are these Kansan God Hates Yous. which is not to say that one should accept their view, and certainly not their tactics (lay off the kids, you assholes!). but there is something to get here, even if I've yet to get it. surely people in Nazi-blooming Germany were aware of a crazed aspect to the political surge. or poor Pound, whose usura was one thing, but the bend in the road took him to insubstantial conclusion. shit. as much as I abhor these gay bashers in prospect, I am more distressed by their language. and their usage. based on a mission, on a demoted logic, on the dismay of assault. Beth talked a long time with the police about this imminent infection. Beth's the politically brave one here, by the way. the police said, don't show up for this protest. I may acquiesce to that. the God Hates You have their organized plan to protest during the time when students arrive at the school. involving the youngsters. this isn't when to add flame to tinder, for such fires are based in histrionics, and who will get burned? cripes, they are even protesting at an elementary school. lay off the kids! on sunday, the group will set up their mission at a number of churches in Lexington, Cradle of Suburbness. not just kids, then, so I think I can meetly meet this thing. and all I want to do is see people as people, witness the action. I want to say that this group is oblivious in the divine humble making up of place for now. learning to bear the beams of love, not the easy couch. God Hates You, Inc spoils in the littlest words they find. which is what we should set our eyes on. forceful, intelligent eyes.
turns out, according to the paper, that someone locally called in these goons. the sincerity of intimidation.
the local newspaper of this fair township headlines that a Kansas anti-gay group will descend here this weekend. the town's middle school has a display of flags to inspire a positive sense of diversity. I know that's a mushy liberal attempt at social concern, effete maybe, but not deleterious. mostly the flags are national, but a rainbow flag is also in the mix. these flags (or perhaps just that flag) caused a stir in town when 1st displayed. not having a child in the school system, I only caught the stir 2nd hand. the basic message I guess is that intolerance is not just for adults. some residents have expressed dismay at such acceptance but no bold actions have been taken. this Kansas group of schmuckasses somehow caught wind of these goings-on 2000 miles away and were inspired by God (it's a church group) to come terrorize the local children. no logical argument can be made in favour of such hatefulness, so they must resort to bullying. look how markedly religion differs from spirituality! I will go to this protest, camera in hand. perhaps I will see their humanity in mine. their political view, tho, is crazed. a famous picture from Boston's terrible busing protests come to mind. it shows a man wielding an American flagpole to impale another man.

butterfly Posted by Hello

lady's mantle Posted by Hello
another quiz, from Radical Druid via Jonathan Mayhew. there's a value in saying things aloud. also in hitting on questions I haven't thunk on much.

1. Do you write with the intent of submitting (and getting published)? Is that your primary objective in writing poetry (publishing to print media, or online journals, or other outlets [i.e., contests, prizes, etc.])?

mostly I do not write with publication in mind. I know I can 'publish' anything online, on my blog or website or to a listserv. I put publish in quotes as a nod towards those who don't think that is publication, screw them. my R/ckets & S/ntries blog was written expressly for publication. I wrote it on the blog, as the blog. I assumed an audience by doing so.

2. If submittal/publishing is not your primary objective, is there another outlet (regular public poetry readings, religious liturgy, slams, literary cameraderie/competition) for which you tend to write?


3. Do you write poetry for other reasons (i.e., personal confessional, celebration of special events, academic requirement, etc.)? How much of what you write is for these "personal" uses, as opposed to ultimately for "audience" consumption?

this can get twisty. I don't write confessionally but the writing often comes out of emotional places, in a cathartic way. there are times when I need to write. I know people will want to puncture that balloon but it is true. I have been envious of Stephen Vincent for writing directly about his father's death, whereas I could not do so, not in poetry. I do not want to dictate the event, but there are times of honour and depth that are worthy of trying to write for. Shelley got hit by Keats' death and, not that they were great friends, wrote Adonais. which, of course, is mostly about Shelley.

4. In any case, what percentage of your "audience" is other poets, versus non-poets?

my poetry has been appreciated by non-poets, but it seems like few non-poets seek out poetry. assuming I know what a poet is.

5. As relates to audience, what is the level at which you seek to connect with them (i.e., artistic, intellectual, emotional, political, spiritual, etc.), once you have them identified? Does "connecting" to your audience even matter?

I'd be happy to connect on any level. but I haven't identified that audience. and I'd have to be a lot more clever to think I could produce a connection. seems like, an effort to connect would mean to produce recognizable forms, codes that the audience 'gets'. there can be value in that but poetry's full charge seems to come from an experience that feels unique. I use the word seem to indicate my dismay.

6. As you explore those different aspects of yourself through your poetry, does that change your audience, make it larger or smaller, alienate it, etc.?

writing poetry doesn't feel like a self-exploration. at any rate, I don't have much sense of the audience.

7. What percentage of the "audience" for your poetry would you consider your friends or even acquaintances, if any?

I guess most people who know my work know it thru its appearance on my blogs or on listservs, so there is that sort of acquaintanceship.

8. In terms of well-crafted, do you think that craft (that is, skill of the poet in whatever genre or form they have chosen) is typically the criteria used in determining what is or is not published in the above? Or is it more likely to be what is considered "good" poetry by academia and its associated publishing press?

not sure what 'in the above' means here, tho I like the phrase as stand alone. this question is confused. I guess all them criteria apply but I don't know the percentage.

9. What is more important to you as a poet, assuming that you can only pick at most two of the following: that you be widely read, widely known, widely admired, widely quoted, or well-paid?

well-paid certainly is a more firm conception than the others. all those widelys sound attractive, but half a sec of consideration produces so what. I suppose, tho, that enough of those widelys would lead to well-paid, best of all worlds. barely and widely.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

I am pretty well finished with my list of poetry books at Ex Poetical, link to the right. have added a crit/lit listing, consisting of criticism, theory, bio and whatever. an encompassing whatever.

floating Posted by Hello
next week we'll be going to Nevada for the high school graduation of Beth's niece. 2 years ago, I made my 1st visit to the state, when we helped Beth's mother move east. this was my 1st exposure to a casino. wowzer! I didn't expect to enjoy casinos as much as I did. we were in Sparks, right next to Reno. we were too busy to spend stupid time at the casino but I got a taste. our 1st visit, we were wandering around, trying to get the vibes of the right machine. Beth suddenly said, where's my pocketbook? I quickly retraced our steps, to discover 3 security people surrounding the bag. would've been funto see the entire bomb scare scenario played out. I liked the flash and bustle, and even tho the excitement is grim it's still excitement. one time I was testing my skills against a stubborn machine. a guy sat next to me, taking a rest from the roulette wheel. he starts scoring on his machine, but that's not where his interest sits. he soon cashes out, so I take his machine. I start accumulating quarters. an older women with a walker stands over my shoulder, pleasantly cheering me on. waitress supplies me with 'free' beer. I knew from Beth's advice that that a dollar tip was decent, but in the excitement of the game and the beer, that tip became a handful of quarters for each Sierra Nevada. I was probably up 30-40 bucks when I quit but I threw a lot of that away. the elderly woman took my seat and proceeded to fill her bucket with winnings as well. I'll miss that machine. the other side of America consists of just mechanically feeding coins into the belly of the machine, and feeling hollow. no, and feelign hollowed out. during our visit we also went to Vegas to help Beth's brother move. we stayed at a casino there. that's a trip. I think rooms cost 35/night. I'd get up at 5:00 or so, wander thru the casino, which would be busy albeit with a more desperate crowd, and find a place to write. I'm sure the pleasure would wear off quickly. there's a tv ad for a Connecticut casino that features a lounge lizard singing about "the wonder of it all". which is just crass enough to be perfect. we're not going there to confront the beast this time but there'll be a little free for a quick survey.

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Seurat's bookcase Posted by Hello

Monday, May 30, 2005

a kind of surprise importance in my reading is Clark Coolidge. I get a kick from his work, a moivation. I like extent, that sense of quantity. Jonathan Mayhew's question about the poem versus the project meant, to me, a matter of process. of course I like poems qua poems, just as I like to use the word qua when I'm at home. but I like hearing the engine running (stupid metaphor, okay), which, in this particular, means Coolidge at the job. Under The Nameways interests me because Coolidge admits to a feeling of attenuation, of having 'run out'. Coolidge? well yeah, even him. it isn't just gushing. it is perspective. it is a view of the work in process. look at all the Ganick books in Ex Poetical, and I know that aint all he's done. it's not just that he writes so much, but that he finds them into print some way (a number of these works were privately printed). this sort of outpouring is not for everyone, is not possible for everyone nor is it aesthetically so. but I am fascinated by it. both Ron Silliman and Henry Gould (bedfellows of strangeness) proceed with a sense of formality and plan to their work. fixed idea. Coolidge and Ganick, I wot, don't plan in terms of structure so much as commitment to a strategy. well, there's strategy to Gould and Silliman, so what do I mean? commitment to the pile, to put it bluntly. Olson's sense of quantity, perhaps. I am not asserting dualities here, nor preference, for I can easily can comprise all 4 writers. my method aligns more with Coolidge and Ganick, but this does not encumber my aesthetic sense. within my language limitation I think my taste is fairly catholic.
saturday we spent some money. the 3 of us went to B&N for a few books, a new sketchbook, such and like. after that we dropped Erin at a bowling party. he learned that bowling hereabouts means candlepins, our own local oddity. near the bowling alley was--ah hah!--a liquor store featuring a Beer Tasting. tasted a few--the gamut ran from Fosters to Belgium powerhouses--and gained thereby the inspiration to purchase. so we bought un poco beer and wine. then we went to a nearby art gallery, which features some really nifty works. quite a lot of pastels on display. I know little about pastels, I didn't know they could be so rich and painterly. gotta get me some. settled on 3 little seascapes in pastel. it feels luxuriant to buy art. after that we visited a furniture store, getting serious about a sofa, but we didn't plunk down at this time. yesterday did yardwork, and as the wind picked up and clouds became formidable, I tasked the camera to capture all that primeval arty power. well, the camera did okay, I guess, as well as I would let it. this morn was cloudless, so I took bike and camera early to North Bridge. 1st a stop at Sleepy Hollow cemetery, which was looking real pretty. trees in flower, sunlight thru leafage. a few photos of Thoreau's gravesite. there's a large monument to 3 brothers who died in the Civil War. I have written of this previously. a chain now surrounds it, part of the state's effort to preserve the monument. now one can't read the plaques that the surviving brother placed. the North Bridge is a National Historical Park, and the vision under which the area now must operate is to return the landscape to how it looked in 1775. which is to say farmland: no trees. alas the trees have been removed. which I am sure will make for more effective flooding. the visitor's centre is an old mansion. there are terraced gardens ging down to the river but apparently no funds to keep them up. plantings of iris, peony, daffodil and such are refreshed but not much weeding done. the view from above is much different without the trees. at the gallery we saw an engraving from mid 19th century of this view. you can see the Hawthorne's Old Manse, and fields. no bridge, tho. I don't think a bridge, rude or otherwise, existed there in Emerson's lifetime. the river is still very high, flooding into the field. the bridge itself is closed. near the river's edge it looks more like bayou. when the British were crossing the bridge, a local who'd been out chopping wood saw them, ran up to a grenadier and whacked him with his axe. impetuous fellow. reminds me of a fellow in Beth's family. there's a book that collects the affadavits of Revolutionary War vets who sought the pension decreed for them in 1835. Beth's predecssor recounts his excitement at seeing the British position, even to importuning General Washington's spyglass. he was with several mates when he espied some British, after which he gave chase, only to discover that his mates thought better of such a tactic. and so on. anyway, I took pictures. clouds are getting heavy now.

uh huh Posted by Hello

hammerin' Hank Thoreau Posted by Hello

camera in the sky Posted by Hello

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Ex Poetical updated
Henry blows off steam here. readerhip gets a scolding. the plaint is a little too self-pitying. Henry's poems get published, and his blog gets read and discussed, so I'm not convinced that no one gets him. I understand the feeling behind the statement of neglect, tho. I see Henry's work set on a unique path, and his craftsmanship is evident. skill and idiosyncracy together make an engaging blend. the scene is transitory, and shouldn't be worried over. the poetry scene gets forgotten. read the reviews written by Poe and James, see how many writers that they reviewed have otherwise entered your ken. because Henry risks the personal and odd, it takes readers a while to comprise his effort. I like Henry's work, but at this point in my reading--I've yet to make a concerted reading (not for lack of interest)--it's all pretty mysterious. yet lovely even so. we as readers aren't so much slow as external to the events that Henry writes of and in. readership will catch up, tho whether in time to provide Henry a nifty epitaph, I dunno. I like that Henry started a new blog, historical musings. sticking with the process, and for our benefit too. Henry generously supplied me with his books when we met last year (check out my Ex Poetical listing), and I look forward to digging deeper.

cloud Posted by Hello