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June 23, 2006

Tenderly #68

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 10:54 pm

Tenderly #68

That’s false. What is direct is clearly not natural.
What behaves in the middle skews each side accordingly.
Forget the description. Know by what one falls into.
The reader is already subject to too much. Ignore light
To explore the peril. An opening is false without foreshadow.
Any good concept of time belittles the present. A truck engine
Does no damage to joy. A bird does not burp as noticeably.
No less than I have been singing for a whole book
And some silly guy in a jeep still has to interrupt with a honk.
What is wayward is necessarily foolish. Who cannot
But relish the indirect. Nevertheless I must forgive
And fall permanent witness. That white stone on fire.
That which precedeth. That which follows. Similarly
One is reminded – you have to love it – the permanently lit
You’ve got it, even tomorrow, well, right now, host & passion.

**
I suspect - tho who am I to really know? - this about ends the Tenderly series, a work very losely based on improvisations of Gertrude Stein’s Tender Buttons - written astonishingly enough when she was 23 years old (I think). I am a somewhat older guy! And, I also suspect, Tenderly is a dialog with youth - an opening of the seams of Stein’s brash young work and letting whatever of my (our) life and times flow up into the passages, though there are some, perhaps, obviously awe struck moments where I am more emulative of the work, rather than ‘breach making.’

By the way, I will be off the blog until after July 17. Shortly, I will be on my way to Ireland. I will be present, as well as reading at the Soundeye Poetry Festival in Cork (July 3 - 9). Subsequently I will be in Scotland. I will read in Glasgow - not sure of the name of the venue yet - on Wednesday, July 12, and then on Saturday afternoon, July 15, at the Elvis Shakespeare bookstore in Edinburgh. If you are in the neighborhood, I look forward to meeting you.

Additionally, I always appreciate comments to the blog. Use the email address. The comment box is turned off for all the known spammy reasons!

A pleasureful July to all.

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• • •

Chinese Particulate Matter

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 7:14 am

This morning, while I took my normal chair atop my local hill on Sanchez at 21st. Street, my friend, Bob Dawson, the photographer stopped to talk and left an informational mark in my ear, something that I found both believable and astonishing.
“You know,” he says, “Scientific evidemce indicates that 25% of the particulate matter in the air over California comes from China.”
Now whether that accounts for more asthma or not, I do not know. I do know that one out of seven children in California’s Central Valley each carry an inhaler to school every day. As a sometime asthmatic, I find that extrrordinarily upsetting aa a figure. So many children faced with that kind of anxiety about being able to breathe fully! That should be a national emergency. And yet, in the minds of “this whoever they are leadership” of the nation, there is no global warming, etc.

But I was also thinking about our relationship to the Chinese. Though the west coast of this country has a rapidly growing Chinese population - that is powerful in many ways (academically, professionally, financially, etc.) - there is nothing equiivalent toa 25% Chinese presence in the ‘collective consciousness’ of the culture! For example, in no way are the Chinese arts, literature, history, etc. equal to the 25% of the particulate matter that all of us breathe everyday. And, no doubt, that percentage will not foreseeably change that much in the next several decades, no more thant this country will directly absorb equivalent amounts of Latin American culture - though this very country (barbarian assaults on immigrants excepted) could not thrive without the large Latino labor presence! In fact, it takes a real stupid bigotry to imagine the West Coast without the integral participation of Latinoss and Chinesee, though there are always the “gated community headsets” that like to propose living a racially exclusive end of the dial.

But to the question of the “particulate matter”: I suspect I want to sey “nature precedes the arrival of culture.” Or some such. But, in this case, it is perhaps silly to focus on the presence or limits of Chinese culture in the Americas & ask why is not here in the same amount as tis other “particulate’ substance. Obcioualy - in rhw perticulates are poisonous, it would be much better to have the challenges and pleasures of a cultural presence. (Some of which is here obviously in contemporary galleries and books that are currently emerging from China in the local midst. In the case of the air, it is also a health issue. In order to survive (cough, cough) it becomes mandatory, it would seem, to negotiate the issues of air on a global levels. Nationalist, self-centered interest is obviously a self-detructive way to go.
I suspect the deeper we are requrired to get into the healh (nature) issues, the closer we will get to receiving everyone else’s global gifts and possibilities. Take away Cheney - as the arhetypal xenophone paranoid in the closet(in this case with astonishlngly horribe power) - and imagine what will be created.

I am not sure what what will make people from different countries talk about cleaning the air and wrestling with the consequences (economic, etc.) for doing so. If this country and China were diplomatically engaged on a 25% kevek, that would certainly be a head start on battling these possibly very damaging particulares to everyone’s health.

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• • •

June 21, 2006

Tenderly #67

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 12:51 am

1.

Cake

Is not a compressed salad

Oyster

Is an egg stirred to the edge

Grapefruit

Is not a compressed cosmos
Is not

Butter

Is not the wages of sauce
Is not

Lemon

Never to the max well drink

Ravioli

Minus tomato plus olive oil
Limber. O.K. Bite

2.

Ecstatic Peach: suppose it is her
Suppose your tongue sidewise, suppose it is real
Suppose a wedge immersed
Suppose never full love on a doorstep
Suppose a crossing, suppose yesterday
Suppose today, suppose an extracurricular
Suppose the wall falls, suppose it’s a yes
Suppose it’s a no, suppose nothing
Suppose memorable, suppose transport
Suppose nothing of the kind
Suppose most of all – three winds to the side –
You and she minus the peach
Suppose a loving: long, kind.

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• • •

June 20, 2006

Tenderly #66

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 4:11 am

Tender bounces a note between octaves
Glides to the middle, arrests the bumble bee
Confuses yes with no, not everything counts:

Tender is calamitous, clustered and true
Tender goes fractious, pops pink balloon by balloon:
Fractious turns ferocious, no man accounts a proud phallus
Language, those words, slip through a cleavage:
Tender goes fractious, ferocious, end of story
Tender is a tailor looking to make cover: suit and vest:

Tender is torture is not country ’tis of thee
Tender gone brutal once young, full sung
Tender tortures stupidly to be known:
Leash, dog, victim, without doubt, endless woe:

Tender cannot manage borders. Tender speaks Spanish
Chinese, Tagalog, etc. Tender walks with, talks with
Tender likes a good time, tender is pissed, pissed on:
No border has a wall and four corners:

Tender thinks his son lost and does not know it
His forehead in a darkened, unillumined sweat:
Tender buys minute pineapple ear-rings for his daughter
Crystal green light strings to each side of her singular throat:
Whatever the condition, tender is outpaced by both:

Tender is full of lament, his father and brother are kaput
His mother is sometimes demented
Tender misses his lover on leave in Rome
Tender is tormented, sometimes so sweetly
Sometimes greviously, age makes everthing come forward
Full block, center, cross-hairs aimed, point-blank, at each friend’s heart:

Tender ducks the missles, feints to the left or right
Tender knows ultimately they have him: brutal or
Arms outstretched: aging is a rolling gurney
No matter the nurse - kind or not - on either side:

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• • •

June 16, 2006

Tenderly #66

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 8:12 am

Erosion Control Area

Please Keep Off!

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June 13, 2006

Tenderly #65

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 11:27 am

A blueberry bird, an enamel clarity, a simple orange

A whirlpool

The autistic pushes away: a constance, an elbow

Another autistic yells, “I am surrounded by incompetents!”

Together apart not a thought, a transparency:
What one sees between opaque and a triple quill, Peacock hat

One autistic writes a list. It blows away. Another autistic says,
“Let’s follow it. Let’s catch it.” The first autistic says, “No, I cannot.
It’s not on the list.”

The portable bouquet minus one, the absent hand
A three cornered delight, a fourth, the red poppy, a white meadow

A comma is not a pause. Orderly is not. A cat limps forward in spite

A grumpy fence narrows, falls; a small squared, black thread
lattice endures:
The wet green cut grass bent from sitting

A charmed layer of pink fat ripples, the painter paints
The eye lifts horizontal. Who beat the hell out of the batter?
Who stole the cookies,? Who prefers the rose enamel finish?
The volume, the empty, solitary, atop the white Formica counter:
Who threw it up in the air, the empty, o so empty, mother jar?

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June 11, 2006

An Inconvenient Truth/ Al Gore & William Kentridge’s, Tide Table

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 12:12 pm

An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore and Tide Table by William Kentridge

Two films built on the edges of disintegration:

This evening I saw Al Gore’s documentary, An Inconvenient Truth. Unmistakably, it is a “must see” flick. Its “truth” emerges from Gore’s direct encounter with the irrefutable visual evidence - glaciers disappearing, deserts forming, hurricanes - combined with a watertight presentation of scientific analysis of the data. Interwoven are Gore’s own personal encounters with early teachers on the subject, as well as his own life enhancing - as well as endangering - experiences from growing up in the natural world of his childhood family farm. There is also the overhang of his Presidential election loss, combined with an awareness of the collusion of the Bush Presidency with oil interests and this Administration’s refusal to acknowledge and take action on the real threat of global warming.

Aesthetically, presented as an actual slide lecture, the format is that of probably the most expensive Power Point presentation one will ever get to see: on site video footage of planetary demise, data graphs, etc., etc. presented with watertight cogency, and clarity - counter pointed with the heartfelt sincerity of a man once thrown off the horse of ambition to become President, and now, very much back on his feet. He creates a convincing, totally uncynical impression of a sophisticated Everyman who is working constantly to both light up the future and use his leadership to divert the globe from emminent demise. Indeed, I believe it is one of those ‘change the picture of the map’ films. No matter how dire the vision, the film is a life affirming, populist call to action on all fronts. (In fact, I already have several friends that are now riding bikes, turning down the temp on their water heaters, and all the good etcs!)

Curiously, before seeing the film, I had been to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, where I had twice watched Tide Table, a brilliant five or so minute video by the South African artist, William Kentridge. Similar to the Gore film, Tide Table is also engaged by the sea, and also very much involved in a landscape (a country) that is closely bordering on the edge of disintegration. However, from the point of view of art, aesthetically Kentridge is doing it from a much different perspective. Gore’s film - no matter how much one is persuaded by it as a documentary - is quite weak from the point of view of an “artwork” An Inconvenient Truth - in terms of ‘felt’ visual content appeals to a nineteenth century pastoral and/or ’sublime’ - as witnessed in video clips of remote mountains and glaciers, or sites of devastation from hurricanes and flooding. In terms of pastoral, the film begins on a green shaded river and periodically revisits the Gore family ranch - where the trees and fields are transmuted through the fuzzy lens of impressionist art. The tree shapes and field are warm, practically dripping with illuminated colors. These images are suddenly a bit of unreal 19th century nostalgia. I am not sure if that’s what Gore envisions, when and if global warming is eliminated - a kind of return to Thomas Jefferson’s view of the farm, Virgilian landscapes et al. That part of the film - set in the context of Gore buzzing around in planes, limousines, and state of the techno art auditoriums - came off as a bit lame and retro-innocent. In fact - though we are offered means to cut down global warming, there is no real vision as to how the world will look when petroleum no longer informs its core operating system. (At this point he is not required to that either!)

The William Kentridge work, on the other hand, makes no bones about the absence of innocence. For Tide Table he makes many, many charcoal drawings of a simple seaside resort - with all its various buildings and different kinds of individuals at in various modes of work and play - a social panoply of contemporary South Africa: The industrialist in a suit sitting in his folding chair reading the paper and overlooking the sea. Children playing in the ocean. What appears to be a black African baptism in the waters just out from the beach. The four bungalows in which people are staying, dressing, sleeping through the night. The interior of a large, overflowing bunkhouse whose impoverished appearing black inhabitants appear to be possibly dying of AIDS. The handsome double storied and towered resort building for the wealthy. The three uniformed sentinels on the upper floor stiffly looking out across the beach, measuring the potential threat in everyone’s moves. Then several panels of horned cattle that mysteriously appear - as if some unconscious, unaccountable force of nature brings them into view.
Kentridge has taken these individual charcoal drawings and woven them into a video animation. These drawings, I should say, operate in an area between ‘realistic and “cartoonish” - they are not deep character studies, yet their presences are loaded with a sense of an artist who has closely studied the social landscape of the beach: the low waves move along the beach, shovels dig into sand, the newspaper in the industrialist’s hand cover his face; at night, his folding chair takes on a life of its own within one of the bungalows - dancing back and forth across the floor -, the cattle appear and disappear at unpredictable moments, a woman leads a baptism out in the waves, where kids also flip and flop in the waters: there is a visitation by a healthy relative to someone dying in the bunk house. The suited industrialist gets his chair closer and closer to the beach, protects his head with the newspaper, and his face, by the end, his face becomes part dog. Kentridge clearly knows his Hogarth and other satiric eighteenth century court cartoonists - and yet, the work is not at all ‘cartoonish.’

What Kentridge has done in a five-minute video, I find quite astonishing. The level of compassion - even pleasure - in the drawings of the various characters is palpable - even when the work makes satiric, ironic gestures (with maybe the exception of the sentinels). Yet, at the same time, while there is comedy and play within the animation, there is a profound, mediated sense of disturbance, as well as lament, here. One suspects that Kentridge is right on the register: the geist, and the role of the country’s various contrary forces that are edging back and forth against and with each other. Tide Table - as a title - is a metaphoric way of saying the piece is taking measure of country’s social depths. Though entertained on some level. I suspect most visitors don’t leave the Museum viewing room feeling real comfortable.

So back to Gore, and the comparison. Both men are confronting oceans full of disturbance, pending and otherwise. An Inconveient Truth, I strongly like for its informed and persuasive power, but not for any great aesthetic sense, such as what I find gratifying in Tide Table. Kentridge’s work (medium) scrapes down to the diverse layers of his content.One senses that the very charcoal strokes he makes for the drawings are a way of digging and scraping deeper and deeper into his subject matter until he arrives at a certain sense of truth. I suspect it’s the sensuality of that process that makes me trust the work - the video as an artifact becomes an imaginative kind of a social and human fact. It’s that sense of materiality, combined with his intelligence and comic intention - in the sense of his engagement with larger, probaly impossible social space - that I find totally engaging.

The Gore, on the other other, as I suggest, has an aesthetic that is closer to Power Point - the content is shaped by a powerful arsenal of graphic and other imageing tools. But, as such a lecture ought, the event is factually disturbing and persuasive, in fact provides a persuasive model for actions that will alter the conditions that beset the globe. Ironically, the Kentridge does not seem to have any of those intentions. Yet I would rather look at Tide Table several times over and be more touched to the heart. I think the difference rests on the question of aesthetics. By not appealing to either the sublime or the pastorale, Kentridge goes in a much more felt way into the core experience of exploring and contending with social and human disintegration. Unlike the Gore film, there is no offering of solutions - Tide Table celebrates as much as it fears. I find that realistic combination and vision of human endeavor provides the most sense of hope, as well as makes a great, compelling piece of art

Our twenty-first century moment: disintegration or??

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June 10, 2006

Tenderly #64

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 10:27 am

No natural tender in the middle

Just watch. A generation renders multiple

Pluralism has no middle. The center dropped out

What goes tender in the middle is multiple

I cry for each of you. What is forgiven forebodes

So much more to come. When she comes to pass

What loses grieves. What aggrieves sews either

Tough or tender seams. When she lost time

There were no seams. The towel folded

Squared, the smooth marble stone: one

Each acquires a different sense: plural

Jerusalem.

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• • •

Tenderly #63

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 12:57 am

Propose something or nothing. Propose a candle in flame

Split down the middle of one’s head. A candle lick

A candlestick, a solar explosion under one’s lip

Propose this, propose that. The container with handles?

What carries a dead body through? Some worship

Light, some the dark: say this too much and the cliché cop

Will crack a whip across your ass. Propose a walk

Propose love, propose contain rhyme with sustain

Propose a snake wandering through the broken papyrus

Propose the letters slipping off his or her back

Propose a large blue truck with a tall, articulate crane. Propose?

What’s left to propose? Something simple – actually complex –

The unfolding morning, sunlit, burning open – petal by petal -

There between green leaves and multiple buds – jiggering lightly

Up and down in a breeze - such a robust, light and yellow rose.

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• • •

June 9, 2006

Tenderly #62

Filed under: Uncategorized — Stephen @ 8:11 am

A window need not be a tender thing.
Clarity robs insignificance. Her peach and red
Marbled purse is not a backhoe. Not metal, nor straw
A crow overhead without a ‘caw.’ Urban instincts
Shadow someone’s well grained, hardwood floor.
In legend a pine knot speaks to inner-struggle
Or an early morning stomach ache. He painted
A bright red YES on his son’s bedroom ceiling
And floor. A good landlord does not permit
Such alterations. A mural of horror on an outer wall
Its torch red, black and orange casually dismissed
Painted over, by a new tenant, after forty years.
Whether one is young or old is beside the point.
What is blue inside a heartache is red on the bedroom doorknob.
If you cry all night and then some
Instinctively, some will say, it’s a relief to the Gods.
What one really knows, one suspects, revolves
Around the double-helix (those diamond shapes, crisscrossed
There on the red and blue vertical diagram)
And the gold and white, or the russet rich, red Iris’
Rising there, multiple lipped, open and falling
Upon the neighbor’s wooden, dark, loam filled bower.

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