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September 30, 2004

Zukofsky’s A - 23/ a start at an antonymical transliteration

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 7:30 am

Foresaw misery not in full
Ended broken to start fallen
Absence a surplus much died:
Negation flush blossoms against those
Walloped, unloosed flesh one’s future:

The bluff, ridges red rib boned
A surprise cliff against one
Circumference against the center or
Simplify destruction or multiple ones
Each cave illuminates light’s absence

Before a cone - darkened - linear
Orchid - wind shaft - white noon
Bald persistence a naked wash
Little of which populates absence
The slow deprived mute tongue

Who slows? What will slow?
Blue sky the most illiterate
Dumb thoughts wax the silence
Vanity will erase appellation’s eye
not it’s own, most intimate:

The water soaked creation prospered
Flower into curved wood. The most
Shape gathers the heated circle
Flesh heaves into its moment
Stopped the blue movement through

A father without a thought
Large as if a cat
Darkened, optically scanned so round
Black, hairless, dogged in spirit
The tool rejects an opal

Blue drill moon lit, hardened
Resistance refuses quantity, dream shafted
The well-feasted young still
Hungry futurity upon them aching
Dark witness sugared already to

Horseless, hayless, smooth bad omen
Domestic mouse tongue dreams reject
Constant, precise, the salted tear
Multiple eyes, globe to mouth
Ear challenges the song or

Something - content to content - cruises
Permeable or in limited digs
In which the left forefinger
Sizzles the green window open
A frame a fortune visual

Compelled, yet voluntary hands repel
As the feet recede tapping
A taunt music to themselves
Vulnerable, a white bird beheaded
Falls plunk to the floor:

(to be continued)

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• • •

September 27, 2004

Shomei Tomatsu - exhibit, Japan Society, New York City

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 5:07 pm

A self-interested plug for a knock-out photography exhibit at New York’s Japan Society of the work of Shomei Tomatsu - co-curated by Sandra Phillips - my close friend and curator of photography at San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art. The press release below spells out the particulars. It just opened this past Monday (another good reason besides celebrating Louis Zukofsky to be in New York). Briefly I would just say that Tomatsu’s photos navigate that territory between document and art(or poetry) and his trigger seems to me right on the pulse of the geist of Japan in particular since the late fifties - USA occupation, Nagasaki residuals, prosperity et al. Under the spell of the photographs - and without obvious melodrama - a classic sense of awe, compassion and restraint, an unfolding heartbreaker.

333 47th Street, New York City. (right by the United Nations complex).

The show will travel to the Corcoran Gallery, Washington, D.C. in January, 2005, and, then to San Francisco in the summer, before going on to venues in Europe.

Yale University has published the show catalog.(More detail below)

Stephen V
http://stephenvincent.durationpress.com

Main Gallery Exhibition
Shomei Tomatsu: Skin of the Nation
Through January 2, 2005
Shomei Tomatsu (b. 1930) is internationally recognized as the most innovative and important photographer of Japan’s postwar period. Bringing an objective, yet idiosyncratic eye to the fragmented reality of Japanese life in the aftermath of World War II, Tomatsu’s work examines postwar Japan’s ambivalent responses to Western cultural and political influences.
While representing a generation of artists who explored the complexities of modern Japanese society, Tomatsu’s achievement is unique. Starkly modernist in his detached, abstract address of everyday objects, Tomatsu invests his subjects with a mystery and poetry that suggest larger, deeper metaphors. Skin of the Nation features nearly 260 works (drawn from the artist’s own collection) spanning 50 years. Each of Tomatsu’s major series is represented, including Nagasaki 11:02, a historic documentation and description of the lives of A-bomb survivors in Nagasaki.
Shomei Tomatsu: Skin of the Nation is organized by the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in association with Japan Society, New York and is curated by Sandra Phillips, Senior Curator of Photography at San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and photographer and writer Leo Rubinfien.
A major catalogue accompanies the exhibition, including essays by the co-curators and John W. Dower, Professor of history at M.I.T. and author of Embracing Defeat, a cultural history of postwar Japan that received the Pulitzer and National Book awards in 2000. The book’s foreword is by acclaimed Japanese photographer Daido Moriyama. Shomei Tomatsu: Skin of the Nation is the first major English-language study of the work of this revered Japanese photographer. Published by Yale University Press, the catalogue is available in cloth cover for $32 (Japan Society members), $45 (non-members) at Japan Society Gallery or by calling (212) 715-1215, as well as at traditional retail outlets. You may also print out a catalogue order form online.

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• • •

September 24, 2004

Zukofsky Conference

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 2:26 am

Louis Zukofsky Centennial Conference
Columbia University / Barnard
September 17-18-19

What follows are Elliptical Quotes from various speakers that found their way into my journal on Friday and Saturday. Occasionally you will see names assigned to quotes, often not. Charles Bernstein announces that many of the Conference’s papers will be up on the UPenn website – I am sure some of these quotes will be much contradicted or limited – but this is more about ‘hearing the way through’ – what initially stuck. Hopefully the process is more than for me personally publicly worthwhile)

Robert Creeley:

“Ed Dahlberg introduced the work to me, Majorca (1952)… Robert Duncan showed up with Z’s books…

Black Mountain Review printed “Degrees’, parts of “Bottom.

…homemade worlds fragile
far from tradition…

Hugh Kenner, National Review (!!) support of Zukofsky…”

Tim Woods (Australia)

“,,,Whitaker Chambers…Columbia…friend, poet, influence…Lionel Trilling../ Clifton Fadiman..,Dewey…Van Doren…”

Mark Scroggins:

“…Joyce…Joyce…the influence…music,,, recurrence, cadence…sounds, motifs, repeats…horses repeating culture (solid, liquid, gaseous)… palimpsests through which previous cultures reveal themselves…circularity with originary texts – first century Rome with contemporary New York.

Read Kenneth Cox, Michelle Legget, Mark Morris (post-colonial interpretation.)

Daedelus made the maze; Daedelian is ‘cunning workmanship’, an over-determined kind of writing.
The need for a simple explanatory criticism.

UC Press “A” a Frankenstein.”

++++

Panel: “A Test of Poetry”

“Obsession with attention & judgment…29,000 copies published up to 1961…
‘Understanding Poetry’ by Brooks & Warren, hundreds of thousands of copies…

poetry = emotional essence, transmittal
linguistic artifact = technique
‘sincerity’ = shapes/ writing as the detail of seeing

sight, sound, intellection:

cross-time

resonant, impassioned, diction:

Poetry as social critique & poetry
To suggest standards.

Belief = intrinsic to technique

Construction by excision…

The living processes of literature…

Against music…the devil’s step – tritone – dissonance:
The deadpan ending breaks it.”

(Saturday)
Steve Shoemaker

“Read Zukofsky on Modern Times (Chaplin).
Kinesis – gestural vocabulary – Charlie in the factory system…sportsmanship of the montage…A-22 & A-23 the free play of the signifier … (T Whitehead: Things pave way for cognition.)…Russian film theorists. A-7 and 1/2 A-9. & Mantis pulse, pulse…
A majestic trajectory…
dance of objects & event, violence of motion
sequence, sequence of terror
scene disintegration into elements
words as units of composition
yoked to world of facts
the strain

Jonathan Schuster on Spinoza

“…Dutch Jew exiled from Amsterdam Jews…Why did Spinoza stand out for Z in the late twenties and early thirties? Poincare, Bergson, Whitehead, as well.
Whitehead: organic philosopher: sincerity and objectification.

Ethics:

Attributes: extension/body/intellect/thought
Body: expresses God’s essence
Affect = emotion = increased experience = love, joy (pleasure)
The opposite of contraction, pain, anguish

God, body, affects feed the mind – the intersection of each – the line - intersects with God

Sensuous intelligence = music/mind
So much of the word is a physiological thing
Emotion is the organizer of poetic form
Closer to brain/ closer to thing
Z rejects metaphorisation of language
Symbolism has nothing to do with metaphor
Sincerity =
research and faith in words
accuracy
fidelity to the image/event

Being inside the history
The genesis of the particular
Words pursuing their own moment of objectivity
The dash – as synapse.
Affects come to rest –
Serial simultaneity

(More Spinoza panelists)

Nothing is excluded from the object
Desire is no excess

Rest = elimination of subject

A-22 – 23 – tweak the interlinear
Intimate handling of words
Opening up connections
Paraphrase
Multiple paths
Z-site paths are us

Subject text energy

Tempered bliss:
Reason & Love fail to reconcile.

Coherent fabric - ontological integration

Banal solidification to the middle

Liberating love of labor

(Saturday afternoon)

Horses blood
Strings in unison
Horse logic networks of associates
H(ay) in Hebrew alphabet
Jigger – one horse town
Buck sawhorses
Entrails Horse Hair
Violin bow
Seafaring heirs

Going around a word that’s not there

Quincaux (sp?)

Ocular observation

(Bob Grenier)

speech fountain of line (WCW)
word(s) pulse
one & one & one not
“which one”

(Barry Watten )

Horizon of liberation – modernist horizon
New Plato
Language = particulars / “inexhaustible language”
How to read the work?
Inherent instruction on how to read the work
Abandons previous systems
Marxist Hegelian up to A-9
A-9 Abandons Marx into ‘Spinoza-love’
Yet retains the embedded aspects of ,,,
Love of something
Love neo-Platonic
St. Mathew’s Passion (Bach)
The relation of aesthetic pleasure in passion
Versus
The realities of the Depression
Z –like surrealists - wants revolution
A-2 to A-5 is weak.
Labor = sawhorse
Permanent revolution
Substitution and overriding
History & the aesthetic / poetry redeems
Love with history
Prospective and unbounded
Redemption begins with Loss
Redemption = absence of the loved
‘I never had a birthday until my mother died’.
Loss and futurity: read into
Futurity impending:
Know what is within your sight/site.

(Abigail Lang)

“Blossom the noun becomes blossom the verb…”

(The U Texas, Austine Archivist)

Archive is multivalent
Cultural information
The way a poet archives his/her life:

How to relate to a long poem?
Materiality of a text locates in time/history
Documents arrange in the natural process of …
Only secondarily on the history of the document (typefaces,
Bindings. Etc.)

The author’s archival technique
Shaped by what?
A valuable source for Library archivist

Z an archivist of his own life
On which to build his work:
Z pushed against the book form:
To think with things as they exist
Participation into text
Operations and things became inseparable
Saturated, disrupted
A compound text
The value in relation to an aggregate.

The writer an archivist of his own life
To which to build his own work:
“I ought to be read.”

As Peter Quartermain – while sitting in the Bowery Poetry Club on Sunday evening reminded me – that I had missed his great talk that morning (and no he was not going to send me a copy, either), in the morning I skipped out of town to the Dia Foundation’s incredible shrine to Minimalism at Beacon. I was simply saturated with too much talk. I don’t live and work in the academic world and rarely go to a Conference. Listening to full days of panels (each one with four or five people speaking for 20 minutes) and without much dialog to follow had bloated whatever was ever left of my attentive brain. But perhaps more deeply, the process of critical abstraction had ironically taken me further and further away from the body of Zukofsky’s actual work. I would have craved listening to good readers periodically reciting actual sections of the work – that would have pleased part of what was my original desire for a Centennial celebration of Z’s language. The Conference did, however, provide time to meet many poets and critics – familiar and new for which I was also very grateful. In the future I would hope that such events would reconcile the impulses to hear the work, as well as to present critical reflections. Anyway – I hope – these quotes give back some worthwhile substance to those reflections.

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• • •

September 16, 2004

On to New York and Zukofksy

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 3:06 pm

…to be lucky and free and original
we might well be afraid to think
we know beforehand exactly
what we’re doing

rather let it happen…

Louis Zukofsky
from The Old Poet Moves To A New
Apartment 14 times

I am off today for a week in New York - partly for the Louis Zukofsky Centennial Conference at Columbia University, a visit to the DIA in Beacon, the opening of the Tomatsu show at the Japan Society (my partner, Sandy Phillips, and Leo Rubenfein are curators) and always most best, walking in the City, echos of Charles Reznikoff always afoot. Back in a week.

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• • •

September 15, 2004

Adorno / Beethoven quote

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 6:06 pm

I don’t know why, but this Adorno quote - I found posted on Jill Jones’ Ruby Street blog - just hits the spot:

“It is subjectivity that forcibly brings the extremes together in the moment, fills the dense polyphony with its tensions, breaks it apart with the unisono, and disengages itself, leaving the naked tone behind; that sets the mere phrase as a monument to what has been, marking a subjectivity turned to stone. The caesuras, the sudden discontinuities that more than anything else characterise the very late Beethoven, are those moments of breaking away; the work is silent at the instant when it is left behind, and turn its emptiness outward.”

- Adorno, quoted in ‘Thoughts on the Late Style’, Edward Said, London Review of Books, 5 August 2004, p3.

I suspect the exquisite sense of order in the language is the kind that emerges when one’s consciousness is beset by an overwhelming and collective sense of unsettling contraries - such as we have now, and Adorno undoubtedly had ‘then’.
Whether language or music (or any art) can tame the beast amongst us is another question.

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• • •

Walking Theory #74 & #75

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 5:39 am

Walking Theory #74

Calibrate to regard more:

Briefcase in hand he runs between
Two intense, twirling sprinklers:
Black briefcase white spray
Across the green: Silver & red trolley
In descent.

*
“Observe,” mother always said.
“Make sure you observe
What you are doing
Where you are going
If nothing else
Just to see what’s there.”

Aesthetic or practical
It was never quite clear
As if, either a close look
Will take one into a beauty elsewhere
Or, so as to be careful
All crosswalks can be dangerous
One might just get run down not looking.

*
The low-grade green moss on the cut fronds
Down low in the shadow on the Palm:
The four flat, rectangular jade turquoise
Flat stones straight down from her throat:
The copper-red burnish to her skin.

Walking Theory #75

On the desk the two phones
Lie next to each like two buddies
Each one waiting to hear from someone else.

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• • •

September 13, 2004

Zuk Conference

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 8:59 pm

I will be attending the Zukofsky Centennial Conference at Columbia this next weekend. So - if you are going and would like to say (at least) ‘hello’, let me know.
Otherwise this blog motor will be running ‘on low’ while I take on the heroic challenge of getting too much stuff & work out of the way.

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• • •

September 11, 2004

Ghost Detainees / Ghost Electorate

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 6:57 pm

From the Washington Post

“…The situation with the CIA and ghost soldiers is beginning to look like a bad movie,” said Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz.

CIA spokesman Mark Mansfield declined to comment on the number of cases. He noted the agency’s inspector general is reviewing the CIA’s involvement in detention and interrogations in Iraq. “We take these matters very seriously and are determined to examine thoroughly any allegations of abuse,” he said.

The generals and the authors of a separate report on prison abuses discussed their investigations in a series of hearings Thursday by the Senate and House Armed Services committees.

Fay said the Army made several requests to the CIA station chief in Iraq for information about the detainees.

The International Committee of the Red Cross said in recent months that it suspects the United States is hiding detainees in lockups across the globe. Terror suspects reported by the FBI as captured have never turned up in detention centers, and the United States has failed to reply to agency demands for a list of everyone it’s holding, the agency said.

Under the Geneva Conventions, the United States is obliged to give the neutral, Swiss-run humanitarian agency access to prisoners of war and other detainees to check on their conditions and allow them to send messages to their families.”

Can some kind of collective rage set Kerry totally on fire - that is, campaign? Jeezus.
George, Cheney and Rumsfeld - ‘this’, ‘these’, whatever ‘they’ are could, or very well “are” leading us “all’ - I mean that globally - to a very bad end. I’m getting bad, very bad German dreams!

If these guys are not voted out - not to sound outrageously in despair - this election depression is beginning to feel like collective, self-induced euthanasia.

Are we (”the people”), the electorate, also getting ghosted? The ghost election of 2004?

At least time for another and another demonstration.

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• • •

September 7, 2004

Walking Theory #72 - #74

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 9:05 pm

Walking Theory #72

“ADOPT-A-HIGHWAY

GODFATHER
BAIL BONDS

HWY 5″

Outside Red Bluff,
California

*

One Person’s litter
Is another Company’s butter
There’s always a body (possibly)
In the Public trough
There between the gravel & the weeds:
Gothcha’

*

“Lost: Parakeet, it’s yellow
And black dots. No Reward
Just a BIG THANKS.”

*
Aphasia folds the hour or
“He can’t remember shit”:
The lament of 60 now 63:
He walks with a golden edge
Not a wedge, her ‘other’, call it
“This blessing, that blessing, let’s go
All around, “hang in there”, blessing.”

*
On the wall of the Doctor’s Exam room:
“Alcatraz” in gold type on white
A red guard tower on a black sky:
“Mark Rothko, No. 10, 1950,” blue
Sans serif type on white
Pale yellow, white and blue rectangles
Each with shaggy, decaled edges:
“Muir Woods,” red and black lined bark
On a Redwood tree over a black forest,
Black ground & white type:
“Testerosterone Gel 7% CII
Ask Your Doctor Now If:”
A company’s advertisement
In a permanent silver frame.
Blood pressure equipment, blue
& Lavender Velcro arm straps
The black squeeze ball, a double-dial
Against black and red numbers (”100″ etc.)
Recessed under the glass lens:
White tissue across the exam table
The aluminum hood over the extendable lamp
The gray leather Doctor’s stool:
The slash of white light at a 30-degree angle
Through the slanted, gray Venetian blinds
cuts across the bottom side of the exam table:

The components by which one waits, examines,
Measures. Useless. Useless. Useless. Impatient
Patient.

*

Multiple griefs, seasons:
Heart multiplies
beyond reason:

You tease “your woman”
Call her “wife”
Challenge your dead brother
Either “Box” or “Ship out”:

Love is a dispassionate enemy
Archeology is memory:
Drill a hole in the floor
Beam by bloody beam
Dark, dark the blood
Swish it in the moist ground
Go deep, go swift
Twist her throat, then his,
Syllable by syllable
Twist the known
Break, break it
Sentence by gradual sentence:
“Talk to me, Talk to me”
May the Dead
Lizard on the hot, red step
Throat puckered, swollen
Push, shove
Syllable by syllable
Word breath sentence
Come, gather, move, liberate.

Walking Theory #73

Eighteenth Street below
Dolores Park

A slow August rain &
What do we worship?
The woody green altar,
the spiral “carpel”
its fleshy, red follicles
tender as silk
Inside the thick
Disparate white petals:
The Magnolia tree
Leaning down
On the lower edge
The Park this morning
For one moment
Briefly sighted.

*
Trolley-Stop: 18th & Church

Dark blue spots punctuate
a white, sheen dress.

Black, knee length coat over red pants
A slightly darker, red strap purse
Parted, long brown hair down
The side of each shoulder: the eyelids
don’t lift - not even - one tiny bit.

*
Cumberland at Church

Navy blue shirts & shorts
Twenty Firefighter trainees
Top of the Park stairs
Peddle feet up and down
The woman trainer’s staccato voice
“See the Sixth building down -
the white one with two balconies -
that’s where Giappi made
a fine rescue off the ladder
from the high balcony.”

History on the run.

*
Down 21st from Sanchez

Across the tops of green hedges
White threaded spider hammocks
Raindrops caught, clustered,
Mercurial edges of light – glimmering -
Uneven rims inside each sphere.

Walking Theory #73

2.5 lbs./ dark blood red whole tuna
9 slices/ oyster-shell white swordfish
Yellow, green, red marbled heirloom tomatoes
Sliced cantaloupe strapped w/ thin, white & pale brown prochutto

Mesmeric moments: one hunts, gathers, prepares

*
The meticulous music of inner-things:

Her thin, gold green Italian silk, ankle length dress:
Slender ripples in the folds
The way light fractures when she walks:

*

To look so close, he joked, note the left-handed moth
Up there, on the ceiling, scooting across:

*
Summer does not fade. Trees, plants
Flush open, indolent
Peach rose petals an indiscriminate blur:
As one opens to a lover after love opens

*
“Any good dreams, Mom?”
“Oh, yes. I dreamed of everything. Everything almost
that ever happened, that is, happened to me.”
“What was the best section. The best part?”
“Oh, I don’t think, or think it’s good, or helpful
to think in those terms.”

The multiple ways in which one ultimately figures out
To say good-bye.

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• • •

September 2, 2004

Louis Zukofsky: Partial Transliteration of “A - 22″

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 11:19 pm

This is an experiment! I have taken about the first 8 pages of Zukofsky’s “A-22″ and ‘performed’ what, for the moment, I am calling an “antonymical transliteration”. The process is to take Z’s language and work to create its opposite (in word, tone rhythm. variously). In the first verse here - for purposes of demonstration of the process - I have also included Z’s first verse. Enjoy. I will appreciate any feedback.

Zukofksy/ A-22/ A partial “antonymical transliteration” of pages 508 - 516
UC Press edition of 1978
“Performed” by Stephen Vincent
Spring 2004

Mother doubt ill served:
amnesia clock to immediate second,
green field close, no morph
breathe in, black upon white,
flower, bird, child – the last:

(Eg. Against Zukofskys’s first verse:

Others letters a sum owed
Ages account years each year
Out of old fields, permute
Blow blue up against yellow
- scapes welcome young birds - initial)

Gone unto, aloft, unperched
Sung not, nor orchid – woe weed
Weed woe, city inflame, house,
Charcoal plank, stud fallen – no trail:

Over left life never
bitter not, hammer head
wind flat, storm not, no smoke
silence no speak
Why longer no:

Not who no wet,
No crack, no pink, no blue
no sharp, no edge, no egg
crunch roll down back
no tree, no trunk, no grasp:

One disappears, the start,
if truth shape the moon
feet firm – eliminate alone
ram down the black double
crush wet dirt to mud:

Conjunct land regress dismember
a broken melody once not his
a sky four crows clock black
burn down the flesh initial,
breath despair the absent shape:

Trombone fog mutes plunge
Numb finger & thumb fork sky
To chance struggle grief dissolve
What fails death unto
Crack winter branch prune:

No season no color no ripe
The flattened deed – no variance
Will heal, the violation, colorless,
Crack time – time minus two –
Hell freeze crown to toe:

Going there cold palm moon
Evening no reflection north mirror
Release sun still south – wheel-less
Uncertain no estimate no thing
Dispersal once so possible:

Not yet in bed no solid
Ephemera bird x-ray bird shroud
Disperse stiff muscle thaw
Reject food nor blue drink
No path no birth no exit born:

To be so elegant in breach
Melted, fried, into the sun
Blind to passage
Thrown down sunk unto earth
Duration eternal, call it loss:

No number to the dirt
Empty pond without an eddy
Sun crushed moon lunch
Not an inch – blue, dark blue,
The trap door steals the dance:

In sorrow no prediction, loss increase,
The swollen, speechless: unique,
Star blind, no voice, only projection, ancestral -
Generation unto generation – the tintype, heavy,
Ink rolled, blackened, ink over ink:

Frozen blue swan carry him out
Silent, insist, go –
Emptiness without string or illumination
The elderly fall, sponge, wipe & harelip
Blank out the equine, he with a mask:

Bird flick loud madrone,
Caught by her ignorance,
Tenderhook, the real incident,
Her soft green beak
Not an occasion – spunk prowler
Shrill – chills, coos, silence:

(#17)

Table varnished pine veined illumed
Opaqued knot hole sun touch –
Ouch (here) rise, yes, rise
Walk, lift (you with it)
No worth, no decade, march

(#18)

Against none, rational number mountain
Cupola, dormer, the framed window
A vision – midnight velocity weightless
Counter death upholster no seat
Slip away, away:

(#19)

Prunes cavalier bank Lent
In black a silver mutable
Fish file into spiral
Then winter, spring cracks
Essential, once – ever so:

(#20)

Troubadour – singer – gather clear
Make noise into order, gather goat
Reject faith as such
Joy frozen dissolve cloven ice
Hot water, multiple, fluid – alphabet

(#21 – start of continuous lines)

Early, way early, too much
Sea flat, no whales, no spout,
Sandstone table, green, the dark sun
Gray upon gray, fog filtered
No matter day: shut up, once a song,
Moon a sad parabola, no witness,
The anger beyond depth, wish upon the hills.
No great story without absence
A permanent motion against the waves
Empties out the solar plenary
Blinds vision in the lower depth
Broken groove and crash conglomerate
Young boars dark exposed and Easter
The large bird refuses to sing
Insistent ignores once song.
Three clouds over the mountain
Spit: infrequent temper. Ignorance as
Pleasure: a naysayer an insistent not:
Latest rose, over and over,
The thorns grow, bushes multiply
Give to none, pierce the several,
Flesh, repressed, the “ouch” of skin
Song breached a voice unleashed,
Dispersed. She who stops
Is dead: a bird in flight enlightens,
Enables the darkened earth.
Disperse amnesia and loss
An elevation into profile
Mountain falls into its own fault –
Suction subservient igneous slide –
Hardened flow without direction, a cold sky
No one permits the imagination less the imagined
Not a bird risen from conical fact
The swirled, fallen, swim among bone.
Coral skeleton in marbled white
The writhen bone, brush, vine and stalk
Turned inward, called “genocide”
Manzanita, madrone, chaparral,
Wisteria hazel blue, dracaena, the
Down-turned golden bell, a lament, everywhere.
Winter inward interior dry marsh
Puddle a young mind resents
So much, a felt life without feeling,
Not sentiment, something more confounded,
The multiples of one
Once, a fish’s agitated shimmer,
Fin and speckled scale
Liquid quartz and dark pirate
A heart fades in and out a stellar echo
An instant to instant infinite
Without history constant change within change -
Harp without strings, frame without sound –
Alabaster rubbed transparent, thin
Convex blue – cloudless sky – pure
And clear – white charcoal clouds
No longer imminent. Immanent coral- the vowel stops
Multiple citizens, to discount root
Rot, burl, and fossil: blind
Flowerless bud: mutable fertile divorce
Among orchids. Tribes progress less
Rapidly than conscious silence suppressing
Song as the hornless goat
Falls off rock edge, cool radius
Inhuman, their rage plural, delectable:
Uncreated twice (forgot)
Entropic thought annihilated un-sifted sand
Coral poisoned yellow perch, blue bass, ochre snail,
Black sailor separate to the deck
White lined, stone simulacra, flat tire,
Oxide, turquoise, a plastic ring
Melted, loose floss, tangled,
Skinned kiwi, pear, olive core,
Boxed kumquat, elk vagina,
Over there, greyhound pointed nose
Vibrant, an urban minx,
No tail, flat, graceless
Body loss- white body
Black ghost – no way to close
The lifted lid, the breach
Permanent, in perpetua.
The buried counter-territorial dead
Ghost ceaseless without rest
A starvation alive, a starvation beyond
April petal curled and rot, predator pollen,
Pistil-mated, snail stolen dark stains
Riddle the canyon, waterfall and creek.
Left, right, up and down conjoined
The moon crosswinds and storm
Drive the bird away from the tree,
The eye an only pilot the land below
A maze, tree branch and leaf
Microscopic detail to grip against
Found on earth mistakes fortune
Humming bird shoots up
Between branch and sky, a flurry,
The brother eye flourish.
A miracle when one flies
One who rejects nectar in sunshine
Fractions figure upon the singular tongue
While ingrate saddle the boulevard bench
Mistaking the pleasures of thought
With open wounds, each a coarse identity:
Heated wild flamingo crowded with color,
Jack rabbit, cougar swollen sky – inhabited.
Cool green ridge an opulence-
An epoxy of seed among grasses molten
The wind revived, chimney stone & table,
Fluted curtains filter fierce musics
Against where Elmwood and willow thrash open
While over the wet bank,
exposed roots join them – how open?
The steel rod a manner to hold
Or betray, the slanted give way
“the rust in which to bury you” –
the memorial your only resting place.
Hopeless boredom, giant and tedious –
The similarity of excrement transparent –
The shadowed sky cloud damaged,
Insistent, a faithless permanent
Cat’s paw, a claw scratched spine –
Confidence, the cat’s, wind around a tree
Leaves his, my brother’s song, “Peppercorn
In a pepper tree
Never brought him nine, eight, seven.”
Nothing other, grief & roses.
Fire is a flaming tongue
Through pitched roof, smoke
Jams the eye, stuffed down like tears
Salted and dried - anguish by night,
Day insufferably day – truth
Eliminates intelligence, the whiplash of tires,
Car upon a car, a cacophony,
A corrugated heart, one ripple upon
Another, time insentient, aloof, perpetual –
Is God plural? None for disorder,
Mocking bird, mourning dove, manzanita,
Nocturnal vibrant darkened frequency,
Bankrupt, beauty ever in rupture.
An artist’s loft disclosed the neighborhood
Shingle and shaft shortened
Closes the deal for singles or couples
Aspiring and troubled, the bird
Blind to contrary evidence,
Each one silent, tongue tied,
No labor from the heart
Felt twisted absent the performed:
No eye cancelled rule, dog paw
Scribbled by sea – moon, no weather, suspend,
Air say flat, earth say hard,
Fire say enflame to the quick – out of
Which without even one string, as
A rolled ball, rubber bands cloven,
In time found a darkened center.
In drought, the cracked silt,
A population of desperate water snakes.
In flood, why drown an angel,
The floated body such a liberation.
A sun-winter vinyl yellow jaded
The after-nation in disorder,
Rigorously invested, a kind of plague
Without season, the sheer absence of blessing
No impact, the animal, say a minx
Without a tail, absolutely
Or not, the threat of a kiss.
Swung toward a groove? Reject
The twisted snake, ride the coil,
The bird’s, heavy breath, the heaving
Swollen to sweat. Eliminate
The count, intuition will serve you,
The fallen Redwood a cornucopia to the fern:
Walk an infinite into an indefinite
Counter-ancestral sneer so full anxious we
Turn to the present a foundation]
Without leaders a blue print in the head –
I will not, why should one take daughters,
Take sons into an irresponsible war,
Darkness without definition, flattened concrete,
The President adrift, hysteric and empty,
Ample life a valor deep-sixed -
No songs, none ours, the farted hymns
A republic minus plants, the shrubs
A source multiple in gray sorrow:
No reference or reason indeed
For why is one silent, even those dumb
Squat upon the living, the dynamic
Is obvious, but not simple, loud
With violence, the more complex
A failure of nerve amongst solid violence,
“An unalterable condition without
massive public disgust and eruption.”
Not wise, oppose, coherence into breath
Against “hate” into what you hear
Is not a child, not an embrace,
Not dumb thumb against the sky:
What is solid blooms from within the crust,
Its shape permeable, its love porous.

(finish middle of page 516 at the line:
melts, well-carved does not niggle.)

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