Ron Silliman may boast of 29 million hamburgers served, but if you want solid, down to earth pix of stuffed dragons, well, Ron's not gonna help you. folks: YOU NEED ME!!!

dragon my ass 

pleased to see Stephen Vincent has begun posting photos in conjunction with his Millennium Project on his blog. no pix of stuffed dragons as yet.

all figured out 

mean ass dragon 

heavy dragon 

just to add to Anny Ballardini's comments about Henry Gould. he is producing a vast poem that incorporates extent with the particular, if that isn't too terribly expressed. the vastness of the local, perhaps. tho his manner differs, you can place his work in the company of Maximus, Cantos and, closer to his style, The Bridge. obsessive conjures negatively, so I will use the word focused to describe his artistic conception. I think I can learn from his work, tho the sort of formality he embraces is not in my wheelhouse. many critical judgments are fueled by supeficialities, like school dress codes but Henry's work should be read seriously as a contemporary indication, not as an irritant or footnote. the poetry buddy system is too safe.

thoughtful varied comment by Alli Warren. "The slams were mostly predictable triumph-of-the-I stutter-paced anti-heroic epics, yes." I suppose that stutter-pace derives from the Beats, or perhaps more accurately beatniks. it's a stylistic norm, like that projective, from the diaphragm manner of singing in Broadway musicals. the focus of this post is a Baraka reading, a sense of whom, and a positive one, comes thru. I guess my brain's freezing up here. Warren takes Baraka at his Word. I'll leave it at that.

cool visuals by Lanny Quarles. I should say more than that. as collages, these works are conjunctions of elements. I think the interest lies in how these disparate elements, some of which could be called trashy, radiate a consistent spirit. I shy from using the word spiritual, too loaded, but that's really what I mean. metaphysical, if you will. the pieces don't lose their humour for being 'spiritual'.

intense cat moment 

peccavi! I missed Jukka's blog for several days and he totally changes direction. wonderful! really a bold shift.

enfold 

spring basket 

just got the idea for a children's story about a tiny drunken dancer. haven't worked out the plot yet but I got the title: Stumblebumbalina.

and speaking pictures. my father and I were in front of the tube sunday, zoning out I suppose in our different ways. the national anthem for the Eagles/Falcons game was sung by a youngster, and my father sang along the whole way thru. not in a teary way, as you see people in the crowds (even players) do, but well childlike. as someone who sang it frequently in that well-ordered society long since. my father always loved music tho his hearing's been challenged since he was a child. he played clarinet in the school band, even participated in one of John Phillips Sousa's last appearance, some grand congregation of highschool musicians. these little glints remain.

eminent Jack Kimball recently noted the trend of digital pix in blogville. well it's so gosh darn easy. perfect for me, since I can take gazillions of pix, with the hope that one might feature up okay and even assert some sense of focus. last night Beth was weeding an arrangement of forced bulbs, as some had passed. the red tulip was heading out but then we saw how exotic the failing tulip blossom looked. grab the camera! so we spent quite a while posing the tulip and clicking, with normal and expected intrusions by the interdimensional cat. it's no enterprise to bring the camera long, which I do walking the dog or other times in which no event is predicted. and Picasa and Hello, available at Google's site, are easy tools for getting the pix online.

tulip celebration 

further tulip 

scusi 

extrovert tulip 

generally speaking, poetry is everywhere and all around. you just need attention. Geof Huth is consistently busy attending.

13th part of Seize Song here, and as blog addition at this place

nicely wore out from shovelling. the three of us did the job in I dunno how long. I stayed cold all day, for the wind was steady and hard. I cranked it, tho I'd've preferred a day in bed, with sleepyheaded rise to watch football. I NEVER do that. I always get up by 6:00 at the super very latest, no matter when I go to bed or how tired. somewhat have to do this, and somewhat just am habitual. so blub blub blah. I was kinda psyched to watched the Patriots, my New England Patriots, but refer to 1st sentence. football games should be on at 1:00, period. I watched into the 3rd quarter, having missed the beginning, and another snatch while I did dishes. expertise always invents beautiful scenarios, and individual glamour weighs a lot in such considerations. it's not about Michael Vick or Peyton Manning tho, but the full 50 guys available. few Sgt Yorks are out there. the Patriots used to be THE worst run team in the universe, now they are a model organization. and our Red Sox too seem to have a better business sense, but also ability and willingness to dig into the pocket. go figure. whereas the Colts have foolishly thrown a pile of money not just at Manning, which is almost excusable since QB is a focal position, but also Marvin Harrison who, good as he is, isn't going to assure Colts success. the Pats just say goodbye when the price becomes exorbitant. I guess evidence that I'm tired shows in my dithering about this. okay all right. a spaceship landed out front last night, but it flew away. whatever.

snow of the winter available 

another dumb kitty pic 

once while at Concord Bridge, I saw a couple of boys playing at water's edge. one stood on a stone and declared dramatically, as if he stood on a cliff: I'm going to kill myself. his companion replied: don't jump to a conclusion.

how about a weather update? it's snowing. little point in even trying to shovel, as the drifting erases your work. and the side streets that I noticed haven't been ploughed in a while. the dog didn't want to be out there. I suspect schools may not open tomorrow.

as to weather over ground: it's out there. windy, colder than usual for snowstorms (around 10), and drifting wildly. it's light snow but piling up. best snowstorm in several years here. Beth and I shoveled last night, mostly as an excuse to be out there. we both glittered with the flakes on us, not that we don't normally glitter anyway.

thanks To Nick Piombino for pointing to Seize Song. he contrasts my internal musing with the external energy of The Weather Underground. and every act is political...