Erin and I are batching it while Beth is away for a couple of days. we went out to lunch yesterday, at a so called deli. the high school was only half day yesterday, so, tho it was after 1 when we went in, the place was loaded. so many teenagers, especially on the loose, puts me on edge. the buzzing energy and explorations are almost overwhelming. I noticed, in watching the Mock Trial competitions that Erin's team was in, that there's a difference between school kids and those taught at home. the social hierarchies are more heavily enforced in the school kids. you can almost see the weight on all of them. at the table next to us were 2 girls sharing intimate information about each others' cellphones, talking in Valley Girl inflections. the cellphone certainly has changed things for teens, as well as everyone else. Time this week wonders how kids can get anywhere in school what with cellphones, iPods, Gameboys and all that, but I've wondered before that. lots of the kids held the phones in their hands even when not using them. in fact, Erin pulled his out. one boy started to sit down and another pulled the seat out from behind him. I was amazed how much mileage that prank got. the victim sat slowly, sinking to the expected seat, then slowmo down to the floor. everyone, especially the perp, kept laughing and recounting the funniest aspects of that jape as if it were the most Wildean of bon mot. the perp was older and bigger, so there was the necessary sense of bullying tho largely it was all goodnatured. I have to say, the boys seemed like White Male Poet Blogger in waiting. the interactions and insistences seemed so so, if you know what I mean. Erin, with Aspergers (a form of high function autism) would be a mark in school, because he's sweet and innocent in a way that that social hierarchy devours. I don't mean to sound bleak about the kids themselves, but there's a great deal of potential out there that aint being addressed at all. it's not something I easily aver, but I do believe people die every day for lack of poetry. middle class aspirations are so plain and straight.

the song "Save it for Later" by the English Beat is now podded, and I've been listening to it repeatedly. Peter Townshend also does a version, with acoustic guitar and somewhat slower. both versions are nifty. the Beat's version starts off with a few jangly chords from a slightly jarringly tuned guitar. very inviting. I like the song for being--oh my god can I saw this?--genuine in its emotion. emotional content in art, especially in performances is something to be leery of. I mean, is it being faked up, heartstrings and all that? EB's song has some lush strings in it, that came directly from the Left Banke's "Walk Away Renee". neither song is smarmy tho you wonder why not. the lyric content of the song is sad and wistful, yet the beat is bouncy, the sax is a happy yelp, and there's a shouty countdown to the 2nd chorus in the background that's plain enthusiastic. it comes together. manipulated emotion, see, or emotion with intention, is right out. yet emotion is a core drive in the arts, leastwise if we include confusion as as emotion. I think of Frank O'Hara's work, which can be chatty, arch, funny, surprised. his work is an intersection in which "he", the writer, exists, within or amidst the crossing rays, those rays being the various emotional impulses connecting at that moment. Jack Kimball's poetry collects voices of varying effect. there is no one emotion to his work, but there is the moment of the poem. I would say I strive for that, if I strive for anything. I know I've written my share of singular impulse poems. these are poems I somehow thought I had to write, from sadness, anger, love, whatever. I guess the point is to sway, not to steadfast it in one direction. because we live in currents of emotions, or eddies. SIFL is 'about' disappointment and loss, yet its beat is gleeful. I like these curious complexities and find them essential in all art.

I'm Hitting My Head with My Tail

hey, my name is donald rumsfeld And, I'm like,
really used to people staring when I work out,
because, like, I'm a hottie...how u doing?
i just came by to say hi and...
that I am the savior of aspartame,
or more commonly, Nutrasweet
lol anways get at me sometime
Just wanted 2 say I Will Sign
Condolence Letters so
wat up show me sum luv holla
yooo bitchhh... 9-11 plane was 'shot
down' in Pennsylvania during
surprise Christmas Eve trip
lmao i knew ud loveee that note! Haha.
i need to listen to some music that has
screaming in it or something. Lol
or some emo music he he
Love ya Punk !
I'm a girl who doesn't get laid...it happens
eyy ! godd ii miss you soOo much !
juss wanted to say hey
there is no civil war in Iraq
n ii love youu ! ill ttul !
Dude! cheney keeps telling me
"you need to start talking to people
with respect." well.. you gtta come by sometime
so we can chill.. call me or something..
thought i leave a comment saying i love ya!!
i miss u even tho i saw u
20 minutes ago u rock my world!!!!!!

I like to stay behind the curve but you can only keep that up for so long, so I've finally stuck Anne Boyer's blog into my list of honoured (by me) blogs.

I liked Mark Lamoureux's poem Anhedonia, posted 3/13. the format's effective, dodging left and right as well as heading downward. it reminds me of Idea's Mirror by Stephen Ratcliffe, insofar as the word units chain together while remaining discrete. single lines in the case of Ratcliffe, doubles in the case of Lamoureux. the white on blackpage works nicely, as well. I don't seem to muck around with format a whole lot. clunky prose blocks, that's largely my hallmark. it seems like the poem could go for some length. I'd like to read more.

a piece by J Lehmus, 17 p pdf. I fancy these sorts of expansive surging prose-ish sorts of pieces. a little tired, that is, of 8 line epiphanies, and the subgenre consisting of 26 8 line sections, each one an epiphany.