========================================================================= Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 21:10:06 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Lindz Williamson Subject: Re: Help.. In-Reply-To: Jeffery Timmins wrote: When I listen to "noise"--as in deliberately produced as art noise-- I do not hear communication, but the upseting of the very basis of communication. I live in it and relish it for its simple inversion of the ideology of opacity that permeates our lives. Or something like that.... I don't really mean communication in the sense of meaning or conveying a message as much as I mean a point of contact. It seems to me that doing readings or circulating my works is a connection, it starts a relationship. There is a reception of something that was once internal, a thought. It still may be abstract and without function, but it has touched someone else's life once it has left my fingers or my mouth. If poetry was merely noise for myself I could just leave it in my head. But I need the contact, the communion with someone else. They don't have to like it, or understand it, just read or hear it. After that it's too late to go back I've already invaded, they are no longer innocent of me. Lindz ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 21:30:12 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: Renga > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > kook!" > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > warehouse, curls > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry > cleaners > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments > to be > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams were > hooks. > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > fruit > of subject's object status, violent transformation > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > what if the trees are conservative well i hate them > the emir said as much as any garrulous ill-advised backbiter blousily seeking lousy peaks of projectile vomit purple and ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 15:11:05 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Mark Roberts Subject: AWOL: correction to September Happenings It has just been brought to my attention that the Tasmanian Writers Union meeting which was listed as taking place on Wednesday 4th September is really taking place on Wednesday 4th October. The corrected entry should read: Wednesday 4th October there'll be a Tasmanian Writers' Union (TWU) reading at the Bavarian Tavern 28 Liverpool Street Hobart at 7.30 pm. featuring three of the readers from the Tasmanian Poetry Festival: Matt Simpson (U.K.), Jenny Boult and Chris Mansell. Cost $8/$5 conc. Details phone TWU (002) 240029. Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused ( I hope nobody has to change their travel plans). Mark ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 22:24:09 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Lindz Williamson Subject: limerick In-Reply-To: Ok I did some research on limericks so I could get it right this time. Anybody familiar with Edward Lear and the Book of Nonsense? Here's a sample, There once was an Old man of Marseilles Whose daughters wore bottles green veils The caught several fish, which they put in dish And sent to their Pa in Marseilles. there once was a Young Lady of Welling Whose praise all the world was a telling She played on the harp, and caught several carp, The accomplished Young Lady of Welling. Now would someone explian why you need fish to complete the verse? Lindz ( not a seafood lover) ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 22:34:36 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Renga! In-Reply-To: <950831172758_88270840@emout04.mail.aol.com> from "Jordan Davis." at Aug 31, 95 05:27:59 pm > > > > > >>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > >>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > >>First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > >>The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > >>Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian bluejay, it binds > > > > >>The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > >>These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > >>Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > >>but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > >>Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > >>& opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > >>bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed oriole wind > > > > >>kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > >>gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > >>flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > >>halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > >> (inspection > > > > >>denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > >>pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > >>mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > >>when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > >> kook!" > > > > >>Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > >> warehouse, curls > > > > >>no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry > > > > >> cleaners > > > > >>piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > > > >>the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > >>the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter encore > > > > >>Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments > > > > >> to be > > > > >>of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams were > > > > >> hooks. > > > > >>All melded like striated film leftover in pastel seeds of darkness > > > > >>falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > >>sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > >> fruit > > > > >>of subject's object status, violent transformation, William > > > > >>la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > >>and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > >>shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging, Dean, > > > > >>flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > >>by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > >>through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > >>petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten, Howells > > > > >>alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > >>and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > >>saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > >>out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom^h > > > > >>inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > >>uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > >>which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > >>he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > >>crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > >>capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > >>prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > >he through herself night outright read backwards this > > > > petrified tangle of consonants supposed to mean > > > > >>a lower on-base percentage in September, the long season > > and "The environmentalists are trying to destroy your daddy" > > but we are loving you madly upstairs in the evening. > However, can you put that heuristic chainsaw down? Thanks! > Hey! Hey! Hey! Stripmine your family! Encode your boredom! > Find out what Social Credit was to EP, sanitise his socks! ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 22:44:46 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: limerick In-Reply-To: from "Lindz Williamson" at Aug 31, 95 10:24:09 pm Listen, Lindz: "There once was a young lady from Welling" will not scan as the first line of a limerick, but "There was a young lady from Welling" will do so. da dah da da dah da da dah da I hear you might stop ;lurking at TTPN. Hope so. Cheerio--gb ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 23:01:06 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Lindz Williamson Subject: Re: limerick In-Reply-To: <199509010544.WAA25348@fraser.sfu.ca> On Thu, 31 Aug 1995, George Bowering wrote: > Listen, Lindz: > > "There once was a young lady from Welling" > > will not scan as the first line of a limerick, but > > "There was a young lady from Welling" > > will do so. > > da dah da da dah da da dah da > Hey I was quoting Edward Lear and He said There once was a . . . so there, PHHHHHEEEEWTTHHHH ( the sound you make when sticking out your tongue) Lindz ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 16:10:33 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Mark Roberts Subject: AWOL: UTS Review The UTS Review Cultural Studies and New Writing Announcing the publication of a new journal edited by Meaghan Morris and Stephen Muecke. The UTS Review is published three times a year and will be available at bookstores and from the distributor. The UTS Review takes seriously the encouragement of new writing, especially from Australia and the Asia-Pacific region. A number of important works from Australia and international points of interest will be reviewed in each issue. Early issues are on the themes of 'Intellectuals and Communities' and 'Is an Experimental History Possible?' Issues 1 and 2 will include: Rey Chow, "The Politics of Admittance: Female Sexual Agency, Miscegenation, and the Formation of Community in Frantz Fanon." Bruce Robbins, "Murder and Mentorship: Advancement in Silence of the Lambs" Philip Morrissey, "If Not for Myself..." Sia Figiel, "The Centre" Brian Massumi, "Command, Control and the Singular Generic..." Ghassan Hage, "The Limits of 'Anti-racist Sociology'" Denis Byrne, "Intramuro's Return" Ruth Barcan, "A Symphony of Farts" etc Plus reviews: Chris Healy on Marcia Langton, David Halperin on Chris Berry, Helen Grace on Ian Hunter, Tim Rowse on Graeme Turner, Ross Gibson on Ken Bolton, John Frow on Bernard Smith, Sylvia Lawson on Stuart Macintyre, Kuan-Hsing Chen on Ethnicity and Southeast Asia Address all subscription and submission inquiries to: The UTS Review Humanities and Social Sciences University of Technology Sydney, PO Box 123 Broadway NSW 2007, Australia Fax: (international) 61 2 330 1595 e-mail: s.muecke@hum.uts.edu.au Subscriptions in Australian Dollars or equivalent $45 Individual * $25 student/unwaged * $60 Institutional Overseas subscription rates include postage: Europe and the USA $AUD 56 Individual * $AUD 36 Student/unwaged * $AUD 69 Institutional Asia and the South pacific $AUD 54 Individual * $AUD 34 Student/unwaged * $AUD 69 Institutional The UTS Review (ISSN: 1323-1677) is distributed by Manic Exposeur Ph: (03)9381 1875 Fax (03)9381 1876 ************************ Australian Writing OnLine is a publicity and distribution service for Australian writers and publishers. For further information please email us at M.Roberts@isu.usyd.edu.au, write to AWOL PO Box 333 Concord NSW 2137 Australia, phone (02) 747 5667 or fax (02) 747 2802. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 09:41:58 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: R I Caddel Subject: Re: Fate In-Reply-To: <199509010400.FAA12916@tucana.dur.ac.uk> Wow, these are dangerous times! Where I come from torching a bookshop would be considered a pretty extreme solution to a double booking dilemma... RC ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 09:21:04 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco Subject: Re: Fate Comments: To: Patrick Phillips As it turns out, the hosting bookshop in Boston >burst into flames last night, and will be lucky if they open by Xmas. >>Which bookstore?! Waterstone's Bookstore. It didn't actually burst into flames (just being dramatic), actually the restaurant below it, or beside it, did, and the bookstore suffered tremendous water, smoke and structural damage. A friend who works there has heard that they will probably be closed for some months. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 07:54:17 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Kevin Killian Subject: Millay Thank you to Jordan and to Gale, and all who msged me back-channel, with your hints on further reading on St. Vincent Millay . . . now I know where to turn, believe me I was at my wits end trying to find something good. I was even at that awful stage familiar to you all I'm sure where I was beginning to feel, God, maybe I'LL have to write something-that sinking feeling . . . ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 11:26:44 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Renga In-Reply-To: <199509010430.VAA08083@well.com> On Thu, 31 Aug 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > kook!" > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > warehouse, curls > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry > > cleaners > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments > > to be > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams were > > hooks. > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > fruit > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > what if the trees are conservative well i hate them > > the emir said as much as any garrulous ill-advised backbiter > blousily seeking lousy peaks of projectile vomit purple and insisting on multiple levels of representation. In the meantime ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 09:45:52 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Herb Levy Subject: Re: progressive v regressive Aldon Nielsen writes: >What's odd about this is >that while thousands of Americans have now read Derrida on Jabes, for >example, few of them read any American poets as interesting (to me at any >rate) as Jabes. I'd bet that few of these same Americans have more than glanced at Jabes, either. But you're otherwise right. Herb Levy herb@eskimo.com ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 14:15:09 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Chris Stroffolino Subject: Re: Joris's Celan and Corn on L poetry - 24 Aug 1995 to 25 Aug 1995 I just realized i can actually SEND messages even though I don't receive any (with the nohmail option)---so I just wanted to let people know that Pierre Joris will be doing a book signing party here in Albany, NY on Saturday September 30, 1995--- 3PM (circa) at Cafe Lulu--288 Lark Street. Call Chris Stroffolino (518)-432-4643 for more info (directions, etc) Prizes will be given out for best Celan impersonator..... ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 11:27:48 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Lindz Williamson Subject: calling In-Reply-To: <199509010544.WAA25348@fraser.sfu.ca> Again thanks somuch Bill for hooking me up with Dug, it's working well. But now I have a new request. I looking for Todd Colby and his band Drunken Boat. I've been told I can reach him at Saint Marks Poetry Project, but I don't have the address, nor does Dug. So if anybody out there knows the address or how else I can get a hold of TOdd please tell me. much obliged, Lindz ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 15:30:10 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Burt Kimmelman -@NJIT" Subject: Call for book reviewers and journals to print book reviews Comments: cc: sharp-l@iubvm.ucs.indiana.edu From: ADMIN::KIMMELMAN "Burt Kimmelman -@NJIT" 1-SEP-1995 15:28:01.59 To: MX%"ebs@ebbs.english.vt.edu" CC: KIMMELMAN Subj: Call for reviewers Dear List Subscibers, If you have already seen a version of the following, then please ignore or forgive this notice, being sent now that all good academics are back at their desks, ready for the fall term to get underway: I am searching for people to review my forthcoming book: THE POETICS OF AUTHORSHIP IN THE LATER MIDDLE AGES: THE EMERGENCE OF THE MODERN LITERARY PERSONA (Peter Lang, due out this winter). The book discusses what I call the authorship trope and its deepest implications within the world of literature but also within the sphere of what the history of ideas. The book places literary "signing" within its wider milieux; I have things to say about Augustine, Anselm, Abelard, Aquinas and Ockham among others. The book contains extensive close readings of Guillem IX, Marcabru, Dante, Langland and Chaucer. The book's argument is that literary individualism first widely manifests in the early twelfth-century as word puzzles and overt self-naming, but also more broadly and deeply in discussions about the nature of writing and the role of the poet in the world. These five poets are typical of their era: they are poets, AND they are intellectuals. My study traces their literary claims of authorship to their interests in contemporaneous philosophical debtates--not to the need for what modernity views as self-promotion. Nevertheless, in their creations of both history and fiction, these poets anticipated modern narrative and its literary persona, as they contributed to the emergence of the modern, autonomous self. If you would like more information about this book, for the purposes of reviewing it or otherwise, please contact me. E-mail: kimmelman@admin.njit.edu Snail-mail: Burt Kimmelman Assistant Professor of English New Jersey Institute of Technology Newark, NJ 07102 Real live voice over the wire (i.e., telephone): 201-763-8761 (home number; calling early is okay, but please don't call after 8:45 PM). Thank you for indulging me by working your way through this terribly long message. BK ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 12:33:53 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: limerick In-Reply-To: from "Lindz Williamson" at Aug 31, 95 10:24:09 pm I'll beat GB to the punch and say you need fish in a limerick, Lindz, because of your Newfie heritage. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 16:49:47 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Re: calling to find Todd Colby: first, help your friend move in to his apartment down on Maiden Lane then leave as he and the rest try and remember which box contains the refreshments. Next walk up Bway past the woolworth building and the new knitting factory (leonard street, great digs, AIR CONDITIONING!!!) and lean into the deli, say Mr. Colby, I like your work very much. If that doesn't work, try 275 Union St Brooklyn NY 11231 best of luck, Jordan PS Poetry Project's # is 212 674 0910, address: 131 E 10th St NYC 10003 (Todd Colby's book Ripsnort is available from Soft Skull Press... GRIST Online might have it) ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 14:50:07 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: from "Herb Levy" at Sep 1, 95 09:45:52 am I'm curous if any of you out here know of any or many poems related to or influenced by children's literature. I'm not talking about children's verse either. I think bp did something (I know he had a lot of pop up books and, if I remember correctly, he worked on the Fraggle Rock genius); Dennis Lee might be another. In particular, I'm interested in the influence of fairy tales on contemporary poetry and poetics. ONe of the things I've been thinking about is how the supernatural occurs. In many tales, the supernatural offers an occasion to a character to demonstrate (hence, "monster") their unrecognized virtue (Hansel and Gretel and the Witch, for instance--she allows them to prove to their stupid parents that they're pretty good kids after all). In this respect, the supernatural functions like a language, or the acquistion of a language which is recognized by the ruling community or persons (H and G TELL their parents over and over that they don't want to go, that they want to stay, etc...but it takes their actions against the witch before anyone listens). Monsters as demonstrative language? Speech as supernatural, an initiation into a discursive community? Kids get all the hard stuff to read. Anyways, with this in mind, I would like to know of any poems or poets that deal with fairy tale lore in, not necessrily this manner, but work with the material. Thanksillions, Ryan Knighton PS I have a really crappy joke I want to tell but it doesn't work on a page so you'll just have to come to Vancouver sometime to hear it. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 16:11:20 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Renga!! In-Reply-To: from "Jorge Guitart" at Sep 1, 95 11:26:44 am > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Voice blowing > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > (inspection > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > kook!" > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > warehouse, curls > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak at the dry > > > cleaners > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all eternity for moments to be > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams were > > > hooks. > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > fruit > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging, invoking editor > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > what if the trees are conservative well i hate them > > > the emir said as much as any garrulous ill-advised backbiter > > > blousily seeking lousy peaks of projectile vomit purple and > insisting on multiple levels of representation. In the meantime > the pen seemed oddly juicy, nice, in what she thought of ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 16:23:37 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Shaunanne Tangney Subject: Re: Fate In-Reply-To: <9509011316.AA00946@notesgate> On Fri, 1 Sep 1995, Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco wrote: > As it turns out, the hosting bookshop in Boston > >burst into flames last night, and will be lucky if they open by Xmas. > > >>Which bookstore?! > > Waterstone's Bookstore. It didn't actually burst into flames (just being > dramatic), actually the restaurant below it, or beside it, did, and the > bookstore suffered tremendous water, smoke and structural damage. A friend who > works there has heard that they will probably be closed for some months. > wow. . . a few 4 blocks from my former boston abode. . . and a lovely, big, chock-full, and knowledegable store, too. . . what a shame. . . --shaunanne ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 16:29:42 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: limerick In-Reply-To: from "Lindz Williamson" at Aug 31, 95 11:01:06 pm Lindz: a line starting "There once was a . . ." will scan as limerickal, if it ends something like this: "There once was a maiden named Alice" --yr welcome, GB ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 20:27:24 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Renga!! In-Reply-To: <199509012311.QAA11652@fraser.sfu.ca> On Fri, 1 Sep 1995, George Bowering wrote: > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Voice blowing > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > (inspection > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > kook!" > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak at the dry > > > > cleaners > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all eternity for moments to be > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams were > > > > hooks. > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > fruit > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging, invoking editor > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > what if the trees are conservative well i hate them > > > > the emir said as much as any garrulous ill-advised backbiter > > > > blousily seeking lousy peaks of projectile vomit purple and > > insisting on multiple levels of representation. In the meantime > > the pen seemed oddly juicy, nice, in what she thought of slugs as analogs to beliefs and how butter reminded her of ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 18:08:11 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Dear Ed Foster, Not guilty. I compared you to Ross Perot. Fliply and with no elucidation. But if anybody asked (and Kevin Killian did), I would have said that what I meant was that, like Ross' use of aphorisms, the stance behind "All Acts are Simply Acts" and especially the intro on poetry & politics seems like common sense on the surface but is actually very willfully (to the point of being coy) wrong. It carries Williams' dictum about no ideas but in things to an extreme, which could be pure thingness but also simply "no ideas" But since you've declared WCW to be "boring" that must not be it either All best, Ron ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 19:04:42 -0800 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Anmarie Trimble Subject: Re: fairy poems i feel stoopid; i can only think of the obvious: anne sexton's book "transformations", and plath's poem "the disquieting muses." hmmmmm...stevie smith's "our bog is dood" popped into my head, but probably doesn't fit with what you're looking for. I read a poem called "seamonster" a few years ago, but don't recall who wrote it or where I read it. share your finds with us! -Anmarie >Anyways, with this in mind, I would like to know of any poems or >poets that deal with fairy tale lore in, not necessrily this manner, >but work with the material. > >Thanksillions, > >Ryan Knighton ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 19:33:22 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Steve Carll Subject: Re: Keanu, the living god (fwd) Lindz sed: >No, I haven't seen little Buddha but a friend told me it was brutal. The movie was actually quite well-done, only none of the "actors" could act. The kids were great. The Tibetan Buddhist monks who played Tibetan Buddhist monks were also great. Bridget Fonda did well, but didn't have a very big role. Which pretty much leaves Keanu and Chris Isaak. I kept expecting the Buddha's enlightenment to be expressed like, "Whoaaaa, dude!" It was a little distracting. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 20:42:52 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Shaunanne Tangney Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: <199509012150.OAA05070@fraser.sfu.ca> On Fri, 1 Sep 1995, Ryan Knighton wrote: > I'm curous if any of you out here know of any or many > poems related to or influenced by children's literature. > I'm not talking about children's verse either. I think > bp did something (I know he had a lot of pop up books and, > if I remember correctly, he worked on the Fraggle Rock genius); > Dennis Lee might be another. In particular, I'm interested > in the influence of fairy tales on contemporary poetry > and poetics. > > anne sexton's _transformations_ is based entirely on fairy tales--good stuff, too, imho! --shaunanne ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 20:46:49 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Shaunanne Tangney Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: <199509012150.OAA05070@fraser.sfu.ca> umm. . . could you/would you consider barthelme's _snow white_? sorry for the doubble post--i'm not paying attention tonight! --shaunanne ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 22:52:39 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jonathan Brannen Subject: Re: fairy poems I believe that Randall Jarrell did a take of Handsel and Gredal. Don't recall the name of the poem. Haven't read RJ in centuries and don't intend to start again now. Thought I'd mention it, though. jb ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 20:42:25 MDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Louis Cabri Subject: reng-reng In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, kook!" Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams were hooks. All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up in the sleaze," it's ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 1 Sep 1995 23:23:51 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: reng-reng In-Reply-To: <9509020242.AA69082@acs5.acs.ucalgary.ca> from "Louis Cabri" at Sep 1, 95 08:42:25 pm > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > white stucco volutes and scrolls and flakes and feathers > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > kook!" > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > warehouse, curls > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > dry cleaners > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > were hooks. > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > darkness > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > fruit > of subject's object status, violent transformation > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom pronounced I's and > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's > Decoration Day & I'm the Bard of Dubuque, impatient for ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 06:51:05 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rachel Loden <74277.1477@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: fairy poems Ryan, Card catalogue here has _Disenchantments: an Anthology of Modern Fairy Tale Poetry,_ ed. Wolfgang Mieder, University Press of New England 1985. Don't know if it contains any interesting work. From _My Book House_ (1920)--worth it for the last two lines: THE ASSEMBLING OF THE FAYS They come from beds of lichen green, They creep from the mullein's velvet screen; Some on the backs of beetles fly From the silver tops of moon-touched trees, Where they swung in their cobweb hammocks high, And rocked about in the evening breeze; And now they throng the moonlight glade, Above--below--on every side, Their little minim forms arrayed, In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride. -- Rachel ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 07:20:57 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng In-Reply-To: <9509020242.AA69082@acs5.acs.ucalgary.ca> > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > kook!" > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > warehouse, curls > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > dry cleaners > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > moments to be > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > were hooks. > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > darkness > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > fruit > of subject's object status, violent transformation > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 05:29:33 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: Keanu, the living god (fwd) Buddha's enlightenment to be expressed like, "Whoaaaa, dude!" It was a little distracting. > That would've been okay. I liked the film quite a bit (having all the male characters from the deer in the headlights school made their weaknesses) tho it was too precious. I prefer The Sheltering Sky, of the three films in the "foreign" trilogy--that was one of the great films of the 80s. Ron ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 05:40:24 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: fairy poems Both Duncan and Spicer toyed with this form. Buzz, Buzz; Buzz, Buzz Each of them did just what he does Buzz, Buzz; Buzz, Buzz ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 08:58:42 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Re: progressive v regressive In-Reply-To: On Fri, 1 Sep 1995, Herb Levy wrote: > Aldon Nielsen writes: > > >What's odd about this is > >that while thousands of Americans have now read Derrida on Jabes, for > >example, few of them read any American poets as interesting (to me at any > >rate) as Jabes. > > I'd bet that few of these same Americans have more than glanced at Jabes, > either. But you're otherwise right. > > > Herb Levy > herb@eskimo.com > As a new subscriber (introduced by friends Pierre Joris and Rod Smith), I came late to this thread, but have never understood why Jabes has not been read more widely here. Toward that end, I'm teaching an over- subscribed seminar this semester on -The Book of Questions-, and, fortuitously, Rosmarie Waldrop will join us one week for discussion. Does anyone have ideas about why Americans have so ignored or resisted Jabes? Thank you all creating a list of such intelligence. . . --Carolyn Forche ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 12:39:59 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Loss Glazier Subject: ! ! ! NEW URL for the EPC ! ! ! I am pleased to announce that shortly before midnight last night the move to the new Electronic Poetry Center url was made operative. -------------------------------------------------------------------- The EPC's new URL is: http://writing.upenn.edu/epc -------------------------------------------------------------------- Please re-set your bookmarks! Also, keep in mind that for the next couple of days I will continue to debug the new URL. A number of changes had to be made to accommodate new features and quicker links, so it took significant rebuilding of the files to accomplish this. You will find occasional link failures but this is being worked on assiduously. (The author libraries, for example, are still being rebuilt but I hope to complete these very soon.) Thanks for your patience and I look forward to seeing you at our new url! ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 11:52:38 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Brian W Horihan Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: <199509021240.FAA19357@ix5.ix.netcom.com> or would you consider angela carter's The Bloody Chamber, tho that's not poetry. --brian ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 10:37:55 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: reHerb In-Reply-To: <199509020358.UAA02101@sparta.SJSU.EDU> To the contrary, one of my complains in recent years is that Jabes is about the only contemporary French "poet" (what do we call that kind of work?) known to many academics outside of French departments -- I assume that somebdoy is purchasing all those copies of his works that are sold at university book stores (& now even Borders!) -- thanks again to Rosmarie Waldrop and Wesleyan for making those beautiful English translations available But wouldn't it be nice if Jacques Roubaud or Anne-Marie Albiach were as widely known? ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 13:58:10 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Re: reHerb In-Reply-To: I've yet to encounter an academic (outside French) who has read Jabes, and I urge whatever so-called "mainstream" poets I encounter to read him. My students know Roubaud and Albiach. It's sad that there are several excellent Roubaud translations circulating without a publisher. --Carolyn Forche On Sat, 2 Sep 1995, Aldon L. Nielsen wrote: > To the contrary, one of my complains in recent years is that Jabes is > about the only contemporary French "poet" (what do we call that kind of > work?) known to many academics outside of French departments -- I assume > that somebdoy is purchasing all those copies of his works that are sold > at university book stores (& now even Borders!) -- > > thanks again to Rosmarie Waldrop and Wesleyan for making those beautiful > English translations available > > But wouldn't it be nice if Jacques Roubaud or Anne-Marie Albiach were as > widely known? > ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 14:58:25 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Jabes In-Reply-To: from "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" at Sep 2, 95 08:58:42 am One of the reasons -- I think -- that Jabes' name is better known than his work might have to do with the fact that many young students/poets meet up with _the name_ Jabes in the writings of Derrida, Blanchot & others, rather than pulling a book off the shelves in the poetry section of a bookstore. Beyond that there may also be the question of a range of people used to certain american poetries might find the work too fordidding in its "esoteric" (Jewish/cabbalistic etc.) & "spiritual" dimensions. It is work of a piece & it does take some energy & desire to move towards it. As to some of the other recations to your query: Sure, it would be excellent if Roubaud & Albiach were better known -- but they are known -- or they wouldn't be mentioned here! I could rattle off a dozen names (not published by P.O.L.) whose work is as worthwhile & _should_ be known (not even "better" -- just known) in this country. ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 12:10:43 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: reng-reng George Bowering wrote: > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > white stucco volutes and scrolls and flakes and feathers > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > kook!" > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > warehouse, curls > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > dry cleaners > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > were hooks. > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > darkness > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > fruit > of subject's object status, violent transformation > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom pronounced I's and > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's > Decoration Day & I'm the Bard of Dubuque, impatient for slatecoated snakes to arrive once over the hill I am ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 15:39:39 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Job List Aug: new ad (fwd) Subject: Job List Aug: new ad George Mason University Fairfax, VA George Mason University Department of English MFA Program seeks a part-time visiting poet for the Spring 1996 semester at Associate rank or above with commensurate salary. MFA or PhD, distinguished publications, and graduate teaching experience preferred. Two-course load; additional duties include advising, assisting with readings, and reviewing graduate applications. Send letter, vita, and three letters of reference by October 23, 1995 to MS 3E4, Professor Carolyn Forche, Appointment Committee, English Department, George Mason University, 4400 University Drive, Fairfax, VA 22030. AA/EOE. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 16:36:05 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: reng-reng In-Reply-To: <199509021910.MAA09046@well.com> On Sat, 2 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > George Bowering wrote: > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > white stucco volutes and scrolls and flakes and feathers > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > kook!" > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > warehouse, curls > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > dry cleaners > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > prescience > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > were hooks. > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > darkness > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > fruit > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom pronounced I's and > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's > > Decoration Day & I'm the Bard of Dubuque, impatient for > slatecoated snakes to arrive once over the hill I am sort of banal right now & kind of post-hoc-propter-hoc-ish ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 16:55:05 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Andrew John Miller Subject: Re: reng-reng In-Reply-To: <199509021910.MAA09046@well.com> > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > white stucco volutes and scrolls and flakes and feathers > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her breasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > kook!" > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > warehouse, curls > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > dry cleaners > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > were hooks. > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > darkness > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > fruit > of subject's object status, violent transformation > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom pronounced I's and > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's > Decoration Day & I'm the Bard of Dubuque, impatient for > slatecoated snakes to arrive once over the hill I am King Hen-ery the eighth prescribing, home at last, "Invasion U.S.A." ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 16:09:36 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jonathan Brannen Subject: Re: progressive v regressive Aldon, Carolyn, Herb and all others, Why have americans so ignored or resisted Jabes? Because it is a poetry of ideas and it's structurally innovative. Each of these traits alone is enough to unnerve most U.S. readers. Why was Zukofsky ignored and resisted for so long? As Aldon pointed out, contemporary american poets who are similarly intriguing and challenging are equally ignored. I think U.S. readers are taught that if a work makes demands on them it's seriously flawed because the poet should have made it more user-friendly. Jonathan Brannen ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 16:20:59 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jonathan Brannen Subject: Re: reHerb Aldon, Yes it would be nice if Jacques Roubaud or Anne-Albiach were as well known as Jabes. Emmanuel Hocquard, as well. I highly recommend Michael Palmer's translation of Hocquard's TABLE OF THEORIES. For that matter, I highly recommend Tom Mandel's LETTERS OF THE LAW which seems to have been ignored when it came out in January except by those who didn't like it because it's unlike some earlier work. Still Jabes is hardly a household word, though Roubaud, Anne-Marie Albiach and Hocquard seem to be unknown ever within French Depts. Brannen ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 16:47:31 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jonathan Brannen Subject: Re: reHerb Carolyn, I delighted that your students are familiar with Roubaud and Albiach. I'd be interested in hearing more, back channel, about the unpublished Roubaud translations. Frankly, the only people I know who have actually read Albiach or Jabes have been other poets. I've yet to encounter an academic familiar with their work. Roubaud seems more widely but as a writer of fiction instead of poetry. Glad you're doing a seminar on BOOK OF QUESTIONS. All of these writers deserve a broader readership here in the states. Jonathan Brannen ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 16:51:58 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jonathan Brannen Subject: Re: Jabes Pierre, Please do "rattle off a dozen names...whose work is as worthwhile." Suggestions about where they can be ordered are welcome, also. Best, Jonathan ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 15:41:40 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: reng-reng, hello? In-Reply-To: from "Andrew John Miller" at Sep 2, 95 04:55:05 pm On Sept 2 William Carlos Williams wrote: > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > white stucco volutes and scrolls and flakes and feathers > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > Translucent hands braiding but we watch > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > kissing the weatherwoman between her breasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > kook!" > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > warehouse, curls > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > dry cleaners > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > prescience > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > were hooks. > > All belled like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > darkness > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > fruit > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom pronounced I's and > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snarf still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's > > Decoration Day & I'm the Bard of Dubuque, impatient for > > slatecoated snakes to arrive once over the hill I am > > King Hen-ery the eighth prescribing, home at last, "Invasion U.S.A." > > Oh Lord, we soon begin a second stanza, fueled on capons ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 15:45:50 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: reHerb In-Reply-To: from "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" at Sep 2, 95 01:58:10 pm I am surprised to hear all the talk of Jabes's lack of readers. I was led to believe that everyone but I has read him. I have some of gis books, but I have not read much. But now everyone but I has read Bhabba or however you spell his name. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 15:49:08 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Buzz In-Reply-To: <199509021240.FAA19357@ix5.ix.netcom.com> from "Ron Silliman" at Sep 2, 95 05:40:24 am Dear Ron Us folks in Vancouver dont like to hear all this Buzz Buzz Buzz Buzz stuff. The Canadians just swept the Buzz in a series at the Nat, and will be facing them in the northern division playoffs next week. So the Buzz are going down! ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 20:53:11 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: fairy poems R.K., Re use of kid lit-- The piece of mine called "XCII (cinder-cifter)" in _oblek 12_ uses a 1932 edition of Mother Goose for half of it's vocabulary. The form is Pound's Canto of same #. & the other half of the vocabulary comes from a character by character transliteration of the _Tao Te Ching_. Lines flush left source Goose, lines indented source Tao. Also, I've done a writing through _Fun with Dick & Jane_ called "See it Go," which is part of a "circus" based on Cage's _Roaratorio_, uses broken toy sound effects among other things. A favorite of mine is David Shapiro's "The Boss Poem" written with his son Daniel. --Rod Ryan Knighton wrote: >I'm curous if any of you out here know of any or many poems related to or influenced by children's literature. >I'm not talking about children's verse either. I think bp did something (I know he had a lot of pop up books and, >if I remember correctly, he worked on the Fraggle Rock genius); >Dennis Lee might be another. In particular, I'm interested in the influence of fairy tales on contemporary poetry >and poetics. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 21:08:20 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gwyn McVay Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: <199509012150.OAA05070@fraser.sfu.ca> Howbout Anne Sexton's _Transformations_? Gwyn ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 18:46:44 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: Jabes >Does anyone have ideas about why Americans have so ignored or resisted >Jabes? > >--Carolyn Forche > Good question. I can think of two reasons, at least. One is that Americans as an audience (this is the grossest overgeneralization, I realize) have tended to love a poetics of the noun (Whitman, Williams, Olson, Creeley, Ginsberg, Crane, O'Hara, etc.). The counter examples that do exist (Stevens, Ashbery, Duncan and Eliot come to mind) all produced a metaphysical discourse, but one that seemed (important qualifier there) to shy away from a spiritual discourse. Duncan's spirituality was so 19th century as to be a museum of itself. Eliot's catholicism came after he had made his inroad on the public mind. A second is that the French prose poem as it has come to America via its main proselytizers, Bly, Benedikt, Edson, et al, veers away from longer works and works that really transcend the "prose lyric" posed by Jacob as a closed form. Thus Segalen, St. John Perse, the Ponge of the pine woods have all been marginalized. A third is that he's Jewish. One look at the fate of the Objectivists ought to tell us what that means in America. All best, Ron Silliman rsillima@ix.netcom.com ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 20:23:00 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: from "Gwyn McVay" at Sep 2, 95 09:08:20 pm Thanks to everyone for their lists. Way more than I thought, very encouraging. Now that I've got sources to go to (in the time I don't have) does anyone have any thoughts on the relationship betwn children's verse and contemporary poets/ry/ics? Any thoughts on language as "the supernatural"? thanksillions, Ryan (It's funny that everyone I talked to up here immediately went to M. Atwood and then realized that was prose--I suppse that's a Canadian knee-jerk). ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 20:24:52 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: Renging hands In-Reply-To: from "Gwyn McVay" at Sep 2, 95 09:08:20 pm Reng....never mind. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 20:26:46 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: refusal to refer In-Reply-To: from "Gwyn McVay" at Sep 2, 95 09:08:20 pm Part time position available Words need not apply ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 23:25:58 CDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: progressive v regressive Carolyn, Jonathan, & others -- I have generally quoted a lot of Jabes's comments on "the book" in talks I've given over the last four years or so on the book arts. People in that field as well as more "poetics"-involved groups I've spoken to about such matters seem surprised that I would make a more or less direct connection between such theoretical/spiritual discussion of the book and the book as physical object. Such a connection seemed immediate to me on reading Jabes's work. It still does. The book arts community is certainly not familiar with Jabes, although I've loaned my books to many people in the field, and he is taken up with some enthusiasm among those who attempt to construct a conceptual framework for their activities in bookmaking. Now if I could get them to read Albiach and Roubaud and Hocquard and Fourcade and Royet-Journoud, there might be some fascinating trans-Atlantic book projects. charles alexander [===========^^============] [ <> ] chax press [ maybe <> pages ] [ a time <> letters ] phone & fax: 612-721-6063 [ upon <> frames ] [ once <> motion ] e-mail: mcba@maroon.tc.umn.edu [ <> ] [===========vv============] ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 19:33:58 -1000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gabrielle Welford Subject: Re: Millay In-Reply-To: On Tue, 29 Aug 1995, Kevin Killian wrote: do you, Alan > (or any of the other fine critics on this list) know of anyone who is doing > any interesting work on Millay right now? Yours, Kevin > I actually knew a woman at Sonoma State when I was there who was a Millay expert. She had been accepted to Vancouver to do a doctorate last time I heard from her but wasn't sure whether to go. Her name is Jennifer, damn, can't remember her last name. I'll look and see if I can find it. She did wonderful readings of Millay in which she dressed up and impersonated her. Gabrielle ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 04:14:57 EDT Reply-To: beard@metdp1.met.co.nz Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: beard@MET.CO.NZ Subject: humble apologies it appears that, in a vain attempt to set a "reply-to" field in vms mail, i accidentally set my mail server to forward my mail to the list. please accept my apologies if this set up some sort of horrid feedback loop, or cluttered up the list with messages from my other lists for the last few days. tom the abject and lowercase ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 23:06:41 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: <199509030323.UAA04911@fraser.sfu.ca> from "Ryan Knighton" at Sep 2, 95 08:23:00 pm Actually, Ryan, when I mentioned Atwood I was also thinking of her verse. She has always declared fairy tales her main source, and as you might know, she did her harvard thjesis on late 19th C horror writers like Rider haggard. She was also a sucker for Hollywood monster movies. Check thru her poetry: you will find lots of traces from fairy tales. You might have a look at Kenward Elmslie, too. See how fairy tales mesh with Jean harlow and the Old Dutch lady, etc. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 2 Sep 1995 22:18:28 -1000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gabrielle Welford Subject: Media Play Thought ye all might be interested in this. Gab. The Saginaw, Michigan, store of Media Play, Inc., at the direction of their national corporate headquarters (Media Play and parent corporation Musicland, located in Minnesota) are exploting local writers, artists and musicians for public relations purposes while refusing to carry some of their works on the shelves, even on consignment. Media Play has over 50 stores nationwide, including 14 in Michigan and one in Buffalo, NY. The Saginaw store has censored my own books and the books published by my small press, Mayapple Press, written by other authors. The awards mentioned in the letter below are Great Lakes Colleges Association New Writers Award, which gave Honorable Mention to my book of prose-poetry, *Mothering* in 1978, and the Science Fiction Poetry Association's Rhysling Award for Best Long Poem, given to "Pilot, Pilot" in 1995. This poem is included in *Blues for Port City* by David Lunde. Both these books were in a group of 6 refused for consignment by the Saginaw, Michigan, outlet of Media Play, Inc. Please circulate, distribute, copy, share, sign, and provide copies of this letter to writers, poets, artists and musicians in your area for signature. Signed copies can be sent to me at P.O. Box 5473, Saginaw, Michigan 48603. Thanks for your help! Judith Kerman poet, publisher of Mayapple Press ------------------------------------------------ **EXPLOITATION AND CENSORSHIP!** September 1, 1995 To the Editor: Within the last two weeks, it has come to our attention that Media Play, Inc. and its parent company Musicland Corporation, are censoring the works of American poets and writers by refusing to carry them in their stores even on consignment, based on the supposed "sensitivity" of the material. Works refused by the Media Play store in Saginaw, Michigan, include two which were recognized in part or whole as meritorious in mainstream national literary competitions. The store management declares that in doing this, they are following corporate policy dictated by the national corporate headquarters and its Board. According to the Detroit Free Press, it is national Media Play corporate policy to target areas with highly-educated populations for their new stores, because people who are highly educated read books. People who read books also buy CD's, videotapes, computer software and collectibles which the stores carry. In order to bring these people into the store for extended periods of time, all Media Play stores have been directed by their corporate headquarters to solicit writers, poets, artists and musicians from the immediate area to participate in public relations events such as performances, readings, book signings and exhibits. Such people are also likely to become good customers. However, the Saginaw store that was willing to host a writer for a reading is not willing to sell that same writer's books on the shelves even on consignment, based on the store management's and the corporate public relations staff's fears that the content might be found offensive. In addition, the Saginaw store has pulled items from the shelves sent to them by the corporate buyers, without ever receiving a complaint, thereby making themselves moral arbiters for adult readers in the tri-county region, the same "highly-educated readers" they wish to attract. We the undersigned will not spend money in any Media Play store until this policy has been changed, nor will we cooperate with their public relations efforts. We urge all those who value freedom of expression to boycott all stores run by Media Play or Musicland Corporation, their parent company. Please let store managers know that you are boycotting them, and why you are doing so. Please decline invitations to give readings, concerts, art exhibits, book signings, or in other ways contribute to the public relations efforts of Media Play, Inc., or their parent company Musicland Corporation. We also encourage small press publishers to test the situation at their local Media Play outlets by bringing in publications for possible consignment. Signed: FEEL DUPLICATE AND CIRCULATE THIS LETTER, AND SUBMIT IT FOR PUBLICATION IN NEWSPAPERS AND OTHER MASS MEDIA. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 09:31:08 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <9509022151.AA17918@infolink.infolink.morris.mn.us> from "Jonathan Brannen" at Sep 2, 95 04:51:58 pm Jonathan wrote: > > Pierre, > > Please do "rattle off a dozen names...whose work is as worthwhile." > Suggestions about where they can be ordered are welcome, also. > Okay. Here I go a-rattling off in the random order of alpabetic precedence a baker's dozen French poets: Jean-Christophe Bailly, Matthieu Benezet,Yves Buin, Michel Bulteau, Michel Deguy, Jacques Dupin, Jean-Pierre Duprey, Genevieve Clancy, Gerard de Cortanze, Jean-Pierre Faye, Liliane Giraudon, Leslie Kaplan, Matthieu Messagier, Alain Jouffroy, Bernard Noel, Michel Maire, Claude Pelieu, Denis Roche, Maurice Roche, James Sacre, Eric Sarner, Serge Sautreau, Frank Venaille, Marcelin Pleynet, Jacqueline Risset, Alain Veinstein, Andre Velter, Jean-Pierre Verheggen, hmm, I think I got more than a dozen already, so let me now switch to a quick list of poets who write in French but are from south of "la metropole" as they used to say: Mohammed Dib, Tahar Djaout, Mohammed Khair-Eddine, Abdelwaheb Meddeb, Abdelkebir Khatibi, Ahmed Kedidi, Amina Said,Habib Tengour, Kateb Yacine... ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 10:23:39 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <199509031331.JAA13311@loki.hum.albany.edu> Dear Pierre, To your wonderful list I would add Jean-Jacques Viton and Joseph Guglielmi. Are the poets from "south of the metropole" available in translation? For a sampling of the others, I can only suggested Serge Garonsky's already well known -Toward a New Poetics- (University of California Press, 1994). --Carolyn ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 08:21:24 PDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jerry Rothenberg Subject: Re: Jabes Since Pierre and I have been mulling over the names & works of many in our attempt to compose a global anthology, etc., shouldn't we mention his own recent attempts to translate the very powerful Congolese poet Tchicaya U Tam'si (died in 1988) who was also a master of the French language & its poetries? I think -- in terms of what we're planning to include in the second installment of our work -- mention should also be made of poets like Bernard Heidieck and Henri Chopin, who have been part of the most experimental side of French poetry, along with others like Michele Metail, Pierre & Ilse Garnier (Spatialism), Isidore Isou (Lettrisme), Julien Blaine, & so on. The question of what it takes to be known & read over here is itself a little puzzling. Jabes (who was a good friend to many of us) has a huge number of translated works, but Roubaud (besides the fiction work) has at least two recent (important/crucial) books of poetry -- translated (like Jabes's works) by Rosmarie Waldrop. Both of them -- but Jabes in particular -- are, it seems to me, as well known as one would expect contemporary furrin poets to be in the present U.S. climate. But it might also be noted -- with Jabes, say -- that there is both a reader enthusiasm & a suprising or not-so surprising reader resistance. I think this may have, as Silliman suggests, some bias about the Jewish nature of the work, but more often (in my experience of it) takes the form of people professing to feel outside his concerns, which are taken to be much more hermetic (referential to some presumed deep learning in kabbala & Jewish mysticism etc) than they actually are. But the point is that there are a considerable number of people who may block on Jabes but who are otherwise quite aware of who he is & may have even tried to crack him, so to speak. (I take much of this as a measure, by the way, of how really good he is.) Aside to Ron on the non-acceptance of the Objectivists for being Jewish, it seems to me that a probably more widespread block was that they were closely tied to Pound (as anti-Jew), even so far (in the early days) as to include him (& WCW) within the body of what was being presented in the Objectivists Athology & the Objectivists issue of Poetry/Chicago. I mean only that on that level, things in the poetry world (& elsewhere) get pretty damn confusing. And going back to the original matter of known and unknown French poets, one should remember that a number of those mentioned by Pierre appear also in Paul Auster's Random House Book of Twentieth-Century French Poetry -- in addition to those in the Gavronsky book that Carolyn refers to. Okay & greetings. Jerome Rothenberg jrothenb@carla.ucsd.edu ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 15:13:45 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Steven Howard Shoemaker Subject: approaching Edna In-Reply-To: <199509020401.AAA88216@fermi.clas.Virginia.EDU> from "Automatic digest processor" at Sep 2, 95 00:00:28 am Kevin Killian writes: Thank you to Jordan and to Gale, and all who msged me back-channel, with your hints on further reading on St. Vincent Millay . . . now I know where to turn, believe me I was at my wits end trying to find something good. I was even at that awful stage familiar to you all I'm sure where I was beginning to feel, God, maybe I'LL have to write something-that sinking feeling . . . Hey Kevin, Well, you don't have to actually *write* anything, but you cld *post* something here:> You know, drop a few hints for those of us waiting to have our ears opened... steve ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 15:38:54 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Steven Howard Shoemaker Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: <199509030405.AAA41892@fermi.clas.Virginia.EDU> from "Automatic digest processor" at Sep 3, 95 00:02:26 am I'm set on Digest, but no one seems to have mentioned Christina Rossetti's great "Goblin Market" yet. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 13:37:07 PDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jerry Rothenberg Subject: Re: fairy poems Check Duncan on "faerie" etc. for the real mccoy on these matters. Or Yeats, say, once you get past those celtic twilights. Or Lorca whose duende (goblin) is of that world as well. Or our old friend Wakoski come to think of it. viz, in the case of Duncan a fairy citadel a fabulous construction out of Christianity where Morgan le Fay carries the king to her enchanted Isle (R.D., "Nel Mezzo del Cammin ...") & with others a still darker, older world -- one of those resources now left for children. But that much is an old old story -- part of our poetics (to say nothing of our poetry) since Shakespeare & Spenser at the very least. And old, old in this century as well. Jerome Rothenberg jrothenb@carla.ucsd.edu ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 16:27:03 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Cristina L. Brown" Subject: UK-CALL Will anyone who knows anything about anything mentioned in the note below (sent to Ric Caddel in the UK) please write--soon-- (Cristina_Brown@Brownvm.brown.edu) & tell me how I might best proceed? Feel free to say insulting things about my project as it now stands (for instance: "uninspired" "rudimentary" "poorly- researched" "boring" "what project?") but be sure also to offer useful advice--names/addresses of contacts, possible angles to take, etc. I don't think I'll be doing work on the "relationship between contemporary British & American poetries" per se but will use that connection as a jumping-off point to some more specific (& less reductive) study . . . . Mr. Caddel: I'm a writing student at Brown University, recently subscribed to the POETICS list--have been working with the (Burning Deck) Waldrops and friends on a proposal which if successful will convince the British Fulbright & Marshall committees to have me sent over to some British university to work on a project having to do with the relationship (?) between contemporary British & American poetries, and which would involve quite a bit of research on the poets featured in Longville & Crozier's A Various Art, Mottram et al.'s The New British Poetry, Tom Raworth's Exact Change showcase & others writing in a similar (British) vein. As far as I can tell, there hasn't been a whole lot written on the kind of British poetry which interests me--poetry which reflects a disaffection for received modes of reading & writing, which does not seek primarily to appease or to comfort--into which, in fact, is built a certain resistance--& in which a considered and difficult relationship to (& with) language is manifest. So far I've looked at the Hampson/Barry collection (scope of the possible), a book of essays by A. Weatherhead, an article by Marjorie Perloff, & very little else--not being able to find out more (A Various Art not locally available, for instance--I came across it in a London bookstore last summer) makes it seem all the more important that I go to England--I've been told that Anthony Crozier is at Sussex & John James at Cambridge, though I haven't been able to find James' name on the Cambridge faculty lists & haven:t been able to locate e-mail addresses for either--or in fact anyone else who might be able to help me save yourself. The proposal's due September 22nd--can you give me some leads, suggest a university at which a project like mine might be welcome--or pass this note on to someone who might be interested or willing to offer advice? I'll post some version of this on the list. Thanks, Cristina_Brown@brownvm.brown.edu ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 18:39:00 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: kathryne lindberg Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: Message of Sun, 3 Sep 1995 13:37:07 PDT from irrelevant, perhaps, but somehow seques with a joke that an alto player made last night at the Detroit Jazz Festival: after the next tune, be ready for a discussion of Marx in English. I beg indulgence. Is "duende" commonly translated as "goblin"? As Chris Cheek reminded the list some while ago, the first English translation of the Manifesto begins, "There is a hobgoblin"/not "A spectre haunts. . ." What is the difference between goblin and hobgoblin? J. Edgar's spectre might ask 'Who would you trust your children to, Lorca's "duende" or Marx's "hobgoblin"?'--his grammar would be as bad. He would see connections, even connecting under the bed. But I do want to know about duende, especially in light of a nice piece of Nathaniel Mackey's on Miles Davis's "Sketches of Spain" alongside Lorca on duende. Makes me laugh, at least, a happy laugh of trebled hauntings--at least. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 18:06:52 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jonathan Brannen Subject: Re: Jabes Pierre, Thanks for the suggestions re: poets writing in French. I'm familiar with the work of some of these writers, others are new to me (especially those "southern" poets). Best regards, Jonathan ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 18:20:11 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jonathan Brannen Subject: Re: Jabes Carolyn, In addition to Garonsky's -Toward a New Poetics-, -Violence of the White Page: Contemporary French Poetry- (edited by Stacy Doris, Phillip Foss, Emmanuel Hocquard; Tyuonyi 9/10) offers an interesting sampling (in translation) of some of the poets Pierre referenced and some others. Of the "south of the metropole" poets, I believe some of Mohammed Dib's work has been translated, though I can't recall where at the moment. Best, Jonathan ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 18:25:55 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jeffrey Timmons Subject: Re: Help.. In-Reply-To: Yes, you are right. There is need for contact. You have put it very nicely. Jeffrey Timmons ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 20:24:29 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: from "kathryne lindberg" at Sep 3, 95 06:39:00 pm This is the first time I have, I think, seen duende translated as goblin. That is a little alarming, given that a popular brand of toilet paper in mexico is Duende. Have you seen the transcribed discussion among Olson, Duncan and Ginsberg about duende during the 1963 Vancouver poetryfest. It has been publisht a few times, most recently in Ralph Maud's Olson Newsletter. In the discussion, curiously enough, Olson and esp. Duncan are way off, and Ginsberg comes closest to it. He mentions, I think I recall, Mexicans telling him the duende is what scares the cattle at night. There is also a discussion of duende in the third Spicer lecture (1965) which will be published in Peter Gizzi's edition. By the way, the toilet paper is called that not because going No. 2 is spooky in Mexico, but because a literal meaning is also "soft." ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 20:29:14 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: UK-CALL In-Reply-To: from "Cristina L. Brown" at Sep 3, 95 04:27:03 pm I am thinking that your best help might come from Peter Quartermain, who is on this list, but usually lurks. He is an expert on the hipper Brit poets, as well as being hip to what is happening in the U.S. He goes to England often. One of the best places to work might be at U. of Durham, where the Bunting papers are, and smart folks. The crossover started with the UK littlelittle mags of the 60s , such as Move and Tlaloc. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 20:42:32 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <9509031521.AA03165@carla.UCSD.EDU> from "Jerry Rothenberg" at Sep 3, 95 08:21:24 am Jerry Rothenberg--god bless you for doing all that digging for us. I see how necessary it is when I look at an anthology in the bookstore yesterday--it's called something like The Best New Poems of 1994 or something. The only name I rememnber recognizing was Peter Gizzi. Now Peter's probabl;y worried. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 21:12:23 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: New list and site The following may be of interest to some, particularly the rengists? Forwrded from NARRATIVE-L TEXT21-L on LISTSERV@BIGVAX.ALFRED.EDU The future of the written word. The TEXT21-L discussion list is part of a symposium on the future of the written word, called Text 21, to be held at Alfred University in New York state. While the symposium will take place during four weekends over the 1995-96 academic year, the discussion list will be a continual forum to discuss issues relevant to the relation between communication, especially written language, and technology. TEXT21-L is intended to discuss not only the future of text, but also the way new technology integrates other media, like sound, video, images, and virtual reality, into text, and the emerging forms of communication made possible by new technology. The relative benefits and problems of "new media" compared to "old media," technology and rhetoric, the future of the written word, Computer Mediated Communication, Human-Computer Interaction, the fate of the book, the relations between text and image, the future of communication, the philosophical implications of technology, and copyright issues are all relevant issues. The tone of the list is intended to strike a balance between scholarly and conversational, but the ultimate structure of the list will be decided by the individual decisions of its members. All entries to this list will be edited, hypertextually linked, and released, free to the public, on the Text 21 World Wide Web page at: http://www.text21.alfred.edu/ This Web page will be available on September 20, 1995. Each hypertext section will be referenced to its respective author, with a link to the author's home page, if one exists, or, if the author wishes, an email (mailto:) link. Because of the nature of the Internet, everything submitted to the list is assumed to be in the public domain. To subscribe to Text21-l send email to listserv@bigvax.alfred.edu with the body text subscribe text21-l Owner/Moderator: Paul Ford text21@bigvax.alfred.edu --------------------------------------------------------------------- DISCLAIMER: NEW-LIST announcements are edited from information provided by the original submitter. We do NOT verify the technical accuracy nor any claims made in the announcements nor do we necessarily agree with them. We do not warranty or guarantee any services which might be announced - use at your own risk. For more information send e-mail to LISTSERV@VM1.NoDak.EDU with the command GET NEW-LIST README in the body. mgh ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 00:25:18 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: <199509040324.UAA26202@fraser.sfu.ca> a note on duende it has the following meanings in Spanish in general as a noun (i wasn't aware that it is an adjective meaning soft in Mexican Spanish) 1. goblin 2. charm, enchantment, bewitchment [duende comes originally from duen de casa (shortened from duen~o de casa = `owner of the house,' in reference to a spirit that haunts a house.] Lorca certainly did not mean 1 but rather a non-anthropomorphizable `presence'. I wonder if the toilet paper was named by someone who knew about Charmin'. On Sun, 3 Sep 1995, George Bowering wrote: > This is the first time I have, I think, seen duende translated as > goblin. That is a little alarming, given that a popular brand of > toilet paper in mexico is Duende. > > Have you seen the transcribed discussion among Olson, Duncan and > Ginsberg about duende during the 1963 Vancouver poetryfest. It has > been publisht a few times, most recently in Ralph Maud's Olson > Newsletter. In the discussion, curiously enough, Olson and esp. > Duncan are way off, and Ginsberg comes closest to it. He mentions, I > think I recall, Mexicans telling him the duende is what scares the > cattle at night. > > There is also a discussion of duende in the third Spicer lecture > (1965) which will be published in Peter Gizzi's edition. > > By the way, the toilet paper is called that not because going No. 2 > is spooky in Mexico, but because a literal meaning is also "soft." > ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 21:50:15 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Marjorie Perloff Subject: Studying in England In-Reply-To: <199509040401.VAA29016@leland.Stanford.EDU> This is for Christina Brown. I don't think the poetries you describe are studied anywhere academically in the UK but your best bet would be Sussex with Peter Nicholls. A wonderful guy with a great interest in all the poetries you describe, books on Modernisms and Ezra Pound and now working on a poetry book. At Edinburgh there's Aidan Day who shares your interests and maybe you could study at Cambridge with Jeremy Prynne but that might be iffy for the Marshall, etc. Anyway, I'd put down Sussex and there are many other good people there at the School of American Studies. Hope it works. Best, Marjorie Perloff ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 22:28:52 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: the dozens In-Reply-To: <199509030400.VAA18931@sparta.SJSU.EDU> Pierre -- don't toy with us -- give us those names -- especially those available anywhere in English -- (The only other language I can read so far is Spanish) -- My view of things may admittedly be skewed -- Jabes appears to sell _and_ get read around the Bay Area -- at least since the handsome republication of _Book of Questions_ a while back -- Certainly better known here than the others I named -- but give us those names -- the best thing I get from this list is reading lists! ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 3 Sep 1995 22:59:57 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: dozens of dozens In-Reply-To: <199509040357.UAA05977@sparta.SJSU.EDU> yes, being set on digest and reading from the West Coast, I sometimes lag behind -- Thanks to all who contributed to the lsist of interesting writers in French -- & thanks particularly to Pierre -- That's the second time in a week I've heard of the prospective U Tam'si works -- All I've ever been able to find is the old Heineman _Selected_ with Gerald Moore's translations -- when will the new text be available? ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 01:41:31 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Studying in England In-Reply-To: from "Marjorie Perloff" at Sep 3, 95 09:50:15 pm Hey, Marjorie. Things must have changed for the better at Sussex. In 1966 I went there and asked whether, holding a scholarship, I could work on Basil Bunting. The English dept. told me heavens, no, because Bunting was still alive. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 01:48:26 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: from "Jorge Guitart" at Sep 4, 95 00:25:18 am By golly, my U. of Chicago dictionary gives "goblin" for duende. In discussing the word in 1965, a Mexicano told me it meant soft/smooth as well as the spectral stuff, in everyday talk, as an adjective. Maybe the Mexicano was a fantasma, maybe the same one that whispered dondamente to Spicer. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 12:53:41 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: R I Caddel Subject: Re: UK-CALL In-Reply-To: <199509040401.FAA17854@tucana.dur.ac.uk> I too go to England often, tho it's getting hard to find. I've back-channelled to Cristina Brown with specific suggestions, but thought it useful to come back on some points. First, a little story: When I first arrived in Newcastle in the late '60s I showed my adolescent scribbles to someone who said I'd obviously been reading Dorn and Duncan, who I'd never heard of (indeed, I hadn't heard of anyone). I trotted round to Tom Pickard's shop Ultima Thule (which I used as a library) and began to read Dorn and Duncan, and was flattered but mystified by the comparison (still am). The first point is that "the message" was firmly in place by that stage, and that objectivist and black mountain and new york poetries were getting through - at least to that place. I later discovered that John Seed was also grazing those shelves at the same time - we probably rubbed shoulders by the little magazines shelves. Those little mags, including Tlaloc, as George said, did a good job: I'd mention Grosseteste Review, Second Aeon, and Ian Hamilton Finlay's Poor.Old.Tired.Horse. (aka POTH) at the same time. Also, there was "the Migrant set" - Gael Turnbull, Michael Shayer and Roy Fisher - invaluable cross-fertilizers right at the start of the 60s. The second point is that not all assumptions about transatlantic "influences" are well-founded, and indeed in their reductive form they can be unhelpful (a UK "establishment" put-down of Pig Press which still surfaces is "publishes American and American-influenced poets" - as if american influence were some kind of virus!): what's more helpful, I'd have thought, wd be to identifiy the affinities - and even the differences - between some of the groups Cristina mentions and their American and European counterparts. Then there's Bruce Andrews, for example, writing in FLOATING CAPITAL (an anthology of UK poets from Potes&Poets): "resources made available in part from innovative American poetries (& poetics) of the 1970s & 80s have (arguably) helped spur [these poets]". The distances between writers are vast enough, it seems to me, without bringing country-of-origin legislation into it. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x x Richard Caddel, E-mail: R.I.Caddel @ durham.ac.uk x x Durham University Library, Phone: 0191 374 3044 x x Stockton Rd. Durham DH1 3LY Fax: 0191 374 7481 x x x x "Words! Pens are too light. Take a chisel to write." x x - Basil Bunting x x x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 09:46:30 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <9509032320.AA21070@infolink.infolink.morris.mn.us> from "Jonathan Brannen" at Sep 3, 95 06:20:11 pm Will try to answer a few messages in one shot on this Labor day (get it back to the first of May!) morning -- First a sad announcement: About ten days ago the Swiss-Italian poet Franco Beltrametti died suddenly. He was one of our last great peripatetic travelling companeros, at home as much in Kalifornia or here on the East Coast than in Japan, Holland, France or Italy. & one of the gentlest sould it has been my privilege to know. Here a little poem from his book _Target_. il monte verita ________________ the mountain is the same, the truth changed 19/VIII/78 Good that Jerry filled the experiemntal/concrete/soungpoetry gaps in my quick list of frog poets. One could add Julien Blaine & the work of his Marseille group & magazine DOC(K)S (a scene on which, incidentally, Franco had been very active these last years). There are any number of other figures to add to my list: Claude Miniere, Valere Novarina, Guy Darol for example, but also such towering experiemtal prose figures as Pierre Guyotat (the last French writer, to my knowledge to have one of his Gallimard-published works censored by the French Government!). The list is endless... Besides the anthologies already mentioned on the list, here are two other books worth investigating as they have some of the younger writers not in the other one: _French Poets of Today_ published in 1987 by Guernica Editions (Montreal then, now based in Toronto) I don't know if the book is still in print, but worth trying to pick up. The spring '87 (Vol 30. n. 3) issue of "The Literary Review" pubvlished by Fairleigh Dickinson Universioty. This issue is subtitled "New French Writing" & includes some experiemntal prose by Guyotat & Sollers (from the latter's _Paradiso_) (my translations) as well as the usual suspects (Albiach, Hocquard, Jabes, Roet-Journoud) plus a short bit by one of my favorite French (prose)witers, Pascal Quignard. Importantly, the issue contains a secoind section edited by Eric Sellin, called "Francophone Literature of the Maghreb" presenting writers such as Dib, Alloula, Amrouche, Sebti, Said, Boujedra, Mimouni & others. Sellin edits (edited?) a magazine called _The Celfan Review_ essentially on Maghrebian writers from temple University where he teaches. Otherwise Maghrebian literature is unknown & untranslated here. I'll pass along more information as I come across it. Pierre, but before signing off, one more by Franco Beltrametti mental one __________ (a few hits of the keys) (finally for once) (she would like that it would never end) (to focus) (the problem is choice) (finally for once) (a few hits of the keys) 15/II/78 for J.L. Godard ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 09:50:38 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: dozens of dozens In-Reply-To: from "Aldon L. Nielsen" at Sep 3, 95 10:59:57 pm > That's the second time in a week I've heard of the prospective U Tam'si > works -- All I've ever been able to find is the old Heineman _Selected_ > with Gerald Moore's translations -- when will the new text be available? Aldon -- the U Tam'si will be out probably late next year from Sun & Moon -- if I can get thje translation done on time. ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 10:24:37 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: UK-CALL In-Reply-To: from "Cristina L. Brown" at Sep 3, 95 04:27:03 pm Cristina -- It would be worthwhile getting in touch with both Shamoon Zamir & Clive Bush at Kings College, University of London, The strand, London WC2R 3LS. They are both ex-students of Eric Mottram who was the most important figure inb the rapporchement between US & Brit poetry. (Thge Cambridge group to some large extent folded back upon itself, classical Brit invagination, even though Prynne now writes poems in Chinese). John James teaches at the Polytechnic in Cambriudge, which is why you couldn't find him in the U directories. If you want/need more infoatters, feel free to backchannel, email address as below. Pierre ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 08:30:12 PDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jerry Rothenberg Subject: Re: fairy poems A point about "duende" being something like "goblin" is that Lorca, like many others, was drawing from & (as the situationist might have said) retourning (retuning?) an expression taken to have deep (if later bowdlerized) meanings within the culture. There's a touch of evil in them goblins -- dangerousness or wildness -- that must have been part of its appeal (to see that beneath the Disney-duendes of a later generation). So, I thought too that Duncan, with his fairy/faerie differentiation, was involved in a similar project -- getting some of that fiery/fury sense back into the word (& touching on the lore behind the word, if that's still reachable). I used to think -- in our old ethnopoetics days -- that that was what we were largely into. And I think I still do. All best, JERRY Jerome Rothenberg jrothenb@carla.ucsd.edu ps. "Duende" (i.e. GOBLIN) as the name of a toilet paper is probably not so striking -- except for those of us who get our duendes strictly out of Lorca. (Like Katharsis as a going term for (dry)cleaners, I'm told, in modern Greece.) ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 13:26:38 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Re: fairy poems >I'm curous if any of you out here know of any or many >poems related to or influenced by children's literature. Ashbery's "The Poems" has the music of children's books, and "Europe" used a sort of childish aviator book for much of its text... Kenneth Koch's "The Circus" part one is one of a few of his experiments in children's book narrative, and parts of his novel _The Red Robins_ borrow heavily from all kinds of children's books--he even had Random House print it on rough paper in an odd format to approximate the feel of a boy's book. Ron Padgett's "Falling in Love in Spain or Mexico" takes all its phrases from a child's spanish text/phrase book. And aside from D. Shapiro's "the boss poem" that Rod mentioned, there are poems using (transforming) children's pedagogical texts in Lateness, To an Idea and House (I think). Randall Jarrell's _The Animal Family_ has been illustrated nicely by Maurice Sendak, and Ruth Krauss did many books on the hazy border between NYschool and kidlit, my favorite was and is _A Hole Is To Dig_, consisting of excellent juvenile aristotelianism. but this may not be what you were asking, Jordan ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 13:24:32 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > kook!" > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > warehouse, curls > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > dry cleaners > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > moments to be > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > were hooks. > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > darkness > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > fruit > of subject's object status, violent transformation > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use among the invoices and the difference engines ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 12:35:48 CDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: eric pape Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <199509031331.JAA13311@loki.hum.albany.edu> Speaking of Michel De Guy.... He visited recently at LSU, oddly. He was very open to grad students and junior faculty. Gave a reading and even met with students at a nearby coffee shop. Which is more than most visting writers consent to doing. Certainly none of his ability and importance. And yet only five students arrived at Highland to meet with him. Of those, perhaps three spoke French. Two faculty also attended. It was embarrasing and awkward, but perhaps is some indication of how French poetry in general is accepted in the "official" academy (I of course do not speak of the academics on this list). Jabes perhaps has some cred simply because he is spoken of in Derrida. Thanks, Eric (enpape@lsuvm) ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 12:48:29 CDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: eric pape Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <199509041346.JAA13780@loki.hum.albany.edu> Glissant, anyone? ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 07:51:55 -1000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gabrielle Welford Subject: duende In-Reply-To: <199509040324.UAA26202@fraser.sfu.ca> Doesn't Lorca have a chilling essay describing duende as the driving force behind Spanish poetry? Can't remember where I saw it. Gabrielle ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 08:06:01 -1000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gabrielle Welford Subject: duende In-Reply-To: <199509040329.UAA26345@fraser.sfu.ca> Ooops. See that the first mention of duende was re Lorca. I didn't know duende meant a kind of hobgoblin. Why I was chilled by the way he wrote about duende was that it sounded as though he allied the Spanish poet with a kind of macho obsession with death. Maybe he was right but still chilling. Gab. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 14:21:30 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <950904.124850.CDT.ENPAPE@LSUVM.SNCC.LSU.EDU> from "eric pape" at Sep 4, 95 12:48:29 pm > > Glissant, anyone? > Yes indeed Eric -- the poetry out in one collected volume (Gallimard) & a lovely collection of essays on poetry _L'Intention Poetique_ (Seuil) both of which -- in toto or in parte -- could use translation. ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 14:34:35 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng In-Reply-To: <950904132431_90848631@emout04.mail.aol.com> > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > kook!" > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > warehouse, curls > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > dry cleaners > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > prescience > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > moments to be > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > were hooks. > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > darkness > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > fruit > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > among the invoices and the difference engines Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 11:50:58 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: fairy poems In-Reply-To: <950904132636_90847375@mail04.mail.aol.com> from "Jordan Davis." at Sep 4, 95 01:26:38 pm It's interesting that a lot of the poems referred to me have been suggested for their verse form, as opposed to direct reference to Fairy Tales or their plots. Dorn's _Gunslinger_ could be added, I suppose, for its Seussian lines. Jordan: You mentioned a book, I think, abt NYSchool and its relationship to kids verse. What isthe stuff on that? It sounds perfect. Thanks all, ryan ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 14:51:49 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > kook!" > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > warehouse, curls > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > dry cleaners > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > prescience > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > moments to be > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > were hooks. > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > darkness > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > fruit > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > among the invoices and the difference engines Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 14:58:53 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: fairy poems to add to Jordan's useful list: Carla Harryman's _The Words_, part of which was an _Abacus_ & some of which is in the new city lights book, sources Sandburg's _Rootabaga Stories_ as well as Sartre's _The Words_. --Rod ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 11:59:56 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: TADS In-Reply-To: <199509041821.OAA13950@loki.hum.albany.edu> from "Pierre Joris" at Sep 4, 95 02:21:30 pm This may be jumping the gun a bit, but it seems that I've been elected to get the ball rolling. Some of us G2ers here in Vancouver are planning a new publication entitled TADS. George Stanley has offered to be an advisory editor (and will be submitting some material from his new book) and GB might lend a hand if I buy him breakfast. I will be involved along with Reg Johanson (also on this list) and Thea Bowering. Anyone interested in submitting poetry for the first issue is welcome. The more the merrier and it would be nice to have some connection to the world beyond the Fraser Valley. Please forward schtuff to either Ryan Knighton or Reg Johanson c/o Dept. of English Simon Fraser University Burnaby,B.C. Canada V5A 1S6 We're not set up to handle electronic submissions, so sorry. If you have any questions you can backchannel me at knighton@sfu.ca . And no this project is not associated with the University. I just have less mail problems there. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 09:00:49 -1000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gabrielle Welford Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng In-Reply-To: <950904132431_90848631@emout04.mail.aol.com> On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > kook!" > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > warehouse, curls > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > dry cleaners > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > prescience > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > moments to be > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > were hooks. > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > darkness > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > fruit > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > among the invoices and the difference engines in the weatherwoman's barn at Hale Manoa. But you ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 09:03:11 -1000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gabrielle Welford Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng In-Reply-To: On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Jorge Guitart wrote: > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > (inspection > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > kook!" > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > warehouse, curls > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > dry cleaners > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > prescience > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > encore > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > moments to be > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > were hooks. > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > darkness > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > fruit > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > forneruntly in dis guys. Fwot, she asked, is mortern? ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 11:50:01 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Christopher Reiner Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <199509041821.OAA13950@loki.hum.albany.edu> I'd like to mention another source for contemporary French writing in translation: issues three and four of AVEC magazine. Issue three has work by Royet-Journoud, Albiach, Lewinter, Dahan, Guglielmi, Bessette, Fardoulis-Lagrange, Leris, Du Bouchet, Davie, Colobert, Fourcade (--a minefield of names, sorry for any typos). Issue four has work by Cadiot, Hocquard, Couturier, Risset, Cohen, Alferi, Fremon. They're available from AVEC, PO Box 1059, Penngrove, CA 94951. They're $7.50 a piece. Also, I've been passing on the posts about French writing to Cydney Chadwick, AVEC's editor, and she writes: >I don't know if you want to post this on the poetics list but Madame Renee at the bookstore Le Divan in Paris is happy to ship books to the states and open an account for interested readers. All you have to give her is a credit card # (and of course you get the best exchange rate using a card).If you want more information, i'll give you the street address and tel.of Le Divan." > I can post the address if anyone is interested. Finally, might as well put a plug in for AVEC's web page: http://www.crl.com/~creiner/syntax/avec.html I was really happy to see this thread on French writing (and thanks to Carolyn F. for starting it, and to Pierre and others for the names). Now, how about contemporary Russian writing... Best, Chris Reiner creiner@crl.com ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 16:40:31 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Loss Glazier Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: from "Christopher Reiner" at Sep 4, 95 11:50:01 am > Finally, might as well put a plug in for AVEC's web page: > http://www.crl.com/~creiner/syntax/avec.html I have visited this page and would like to exclaim - it's terrific! A very good job you did, Chris. It includes samples of writing and a lot of great stuff. It's worth a visit! I even linked to it in three places at the EPC: presses, mags, and what's new. Loss Glazier Electronic Poetry Center http://writing.upenn.edu/epc ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 16:40:42 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng In-Reply-To: On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Gabrielle Welford wrote: > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > (inspection > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > kook!" > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > warehouse, curls > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > dry cleaners > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > prescience > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > encore > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > moments to be > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > were hooks. > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > darkness > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > fruit > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > in the weatherwoman's barn at Hale Manoa. But you fell into the volcano because you wanted to, Mr. Kahuna, ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 16:49:21 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng In-Reply-To: On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Gabrielle Welford wrote: > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Jorge Guitart wrote: > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > (inspection > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > kook!" > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > dry cleaners > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > > prescience > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > encore > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > moments to be > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > were hooks. > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > darkness > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > fruit > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > forneruntly in dis guys. Fwot, she asked, is mortern? plus de certains oiseaux americains, replied d'arnot ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 17:45:58 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Kathryne Lindberg Subject: Re: duende In-Reply-To: Message of Mon, 4 Sep 1995 07:51:55 -1000 from Yes, it was this reference to which I referred. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 19:45:40 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Charles O. Hartman" Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: > Now, how about contemporary Russian writing... Well, how about Nina Eskrenko? Charles Hartman ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 17:09:01 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng In-Reply-To: from "Gabrielle Welford" at Sep 4, 95 09:03:11 am > > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Jorge Guitart wrote: > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > with matching five-piece hush-orange ensemble > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, bayou of > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > (inspection > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > kook!" > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > dry cleaners > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > > prescience > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > encore > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > moments to be > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > were hooks. > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > darkness > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > fruit > > > > of subject's object status, viola transformation > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > forneruntly in dis guys. Fwot, she asked, is mortern? > > > > Know thee not? quoth large Phillipus den Bernstein. 'tis ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 17:17:27 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: duende In-Reply-To: from "Gabrielle Welford" at Sep 4, 95 07:51:55 am First place I read Lorca's duende essay was in the introduction to the Penguin Book of Garcia Lorca's poetry. It was a big item among the young poets in Vancouver ca. 1960. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 17:47:15 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Poets, Nations, Goblins >> Now, how about contemporary Russian writing... > >Well, how about Nina Eskrenko? > >Charles Hartman > Like Franco Beltrametti, a wonderful witty gentle person who died much too soon. The best one volume intro to contemporary Russian poetry that I know of is Third Wave, edited by Kent Johnson (who may or may not be the trickster behind the fictive Araki Yasusada) and Stephen Avery, with by Alexei Parshchikov and Andrew Wachtel (U Michigan, 1992), which grew out of Kent and Stephen's participation in the 1989 Leningrad conference. All these poets seem bedeviled by the relationship of writing to nationhood. Beltrametti, whom I only met twice (once at Canessa Park in SF and once in the south of France), was I believe from Belgium or Switzerland and had a knack for European languages akin to Pierre or Anselm Hollo's. If his work isn't well known in the west, it's precisely because of that ambiguity of place. The Russian literary scene seems to have been exploded with the end of the Soviet state. Many of the best Russian poets are now expatriates (like Ilya Kutik) or at least spend as much time out of the country as possible, while others have watched the safety net that was Stalinism collapse out from under them (such as Parshchikov who, last I heard, was homeless and living a street alcoholic's life in Moscow, less than a decade after having been a very successful editor of an agricultural youth magazine and a stint in California, where the alienness of it all proved too much). I haven't heard in ages from or about Ivan Zhdanov, who was already at the Bob Kauffman/Gregory Corseo level of social tenuousness before the collapse of Communism. There is no question in my mind that many of the best/most exciting writers of my generation are Russians, but it seems very difficult to imagine what the future of Russian (or, more broadly, "post Soviet") writing itself can be under such circumstances. Somebody like Arkadii Dragomoshchenko, after all, is Ukraine by birth and would, in today's circumstances, never become part of "Russian" literature alongside a Tartar from Moscow like Parshchikov or a Siberian like Zhdanov. I have often wondered what it would be like, as a life experience, to participate in a literature of fewer than 100 million people, like French (say). Imagine California poetry as a national literature. That would I imagine change the experience of a "career" as a poet a lot. Leland Hickman's willingness to publish poets not strictly local to Los Angeles would have seemed an even more radical act than it was (and, as it was, it got him pretty well ostracized in LA). And I used to think that some of the great similarities between Russian and American writing had to do with their vast populations and expanse and multicultural roots COMBINED (very central) with a deep ambivalence about their relationship to Europe. But that Russia doesn't exist any more. Ron Silliman rsillima@ix.netcom.com ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 22:27:15 +0000 Reply-To: jzitt@humansystems.com Sender: UB Poetics discussion group Comments: Authenticated sender is From: Joseph Zitt Organization: HumanSystems Subject: Re: TADS Comments: To: Ryan Knighton On 4 Sep 95 at 11:59, Ryan Knighton wrote: > Some of us G2ers here in Vancouver are planning a new publication entitled > TADS. George Stanley has offered to be an advisory editor (and will G2ers? I remember seeing a definition of the G(n) terms a long time back (when I didn't recognize most of the names, which I probably would now) but don't recall the mapping. ---------1---------1---------1---------1---------1---------1---------- |||/ Joseph Zitt ==== jzitt@humansystems.com ===== Human Systems \||| ||/ Organizer, SILENCE: The John Cage Mailing List \|| |/Joe Zitt's Home Page\| ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 21:51:19 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: duende I've seen a reference to Lorcas duende as referring to the same phenomenon as Blues as a way of dealing with life - nut don't know where, Tom ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 21:55:18 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng o m " J o r d a n D a v i s ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 21:55:20 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng d a n 7 0 @ A O L ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 23:43:20 MDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Louis Cabri In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee white stucco volutes and scrolls and flakes and feathers These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, kook!" Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams were hooks. All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom pronounced I's and inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up in the sleaze," it's Decoration Day & I'm the Bard of Dubuque, impatient for soft cores--contrailed poesy & sweet moonsuck--japes' phizz ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 23:04:10 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: remg.reng.reng.reng Jordan Davis writes > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > kook!" > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > warehouse, curls > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > dry cleaners > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > prescience > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > moments to be > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > were hooks. > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > darkness > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > fruit > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > among the invoices and the difference engines > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house , ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 09:51:07 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: R I Caddel Subject: Re: UK-CALL In-Reply-To: <199509050402.FAA26833@tucana.dur.ac.uk> To support the mentions of Shamoon Zamir and Clive Bush (King's, London) and Peter Nicholls (Sussex), and add a couple to the names given so far: also at Sussex are Andrew Crozier (Ferry Press, co-editor of A Various Art) and Drew Milne (Parataxis). Crozier is an original "Cambridge Poet" if that term has meaning, tho as Pierre suggests the "Cambridge School" is, if anything, an even less structured group than the "objectivists". It hasn't imploded though, it's fragmented, with lots of little plants, runners or suckers around the place. Sign of good health in plant life. The "Cambridge Poets" are taken quite seriously now, for instance by Michael Schmidt who teaches at Manchester, and publishes John Riley and Michael Haslam in Carcanet Press. He has, for instance, supervised postgraduate work on Grosseteste Review, one of the mags most closely associated with Cambridge. Much more sympathetic, and broader in range and insight, would be people like Robert Hampson (Royal Holloway, London) or Peter Middleton (Southampton), or Tony Lopez (Plymouth). There are also little enclaves of interest in Essex (John Muckle), York and other places where I can't place the names. Two sympathetic colleagues in Durham who do at least read the stuff are Diana Collecott and Gareth Reeves. It's even possible to study Bunting in the UK these days, George: Essex and York include him regularly in their Masters courses, and of course here in Durham, at the Basil Bunting Poetry Centre. Being dead helped his cause no end - I'm working on the same premise myself. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x x Richard Caddel, E-mail: R.I.Caddel @ durham.ac.uk x x Durham University Library, Phone: 0191 374 3044 x x Stockton Rd. Durham DH1 3LY Fax: 0191 374 7481 x x x x "Words! Pens are too light. Take a chisel to write." x x - Basil Bunting x x x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 10:02:04 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: R I Caddel Subject: New Books In-Reply-To: <199509050402.FAA26833@tucana.dur.ac.uk> Two new ones from Reality Street Editions, 4 Howard Court, Peckham Rye, London SE15 3PH (also through SPD): DISTANT POINTS Peter Riley six pounds fifty (yes! he's said to be a "Cambridge Poet") - the first chunk of a long work built on archeological reports. Surely someone will do a collected, or even a selected, Peter Riley soon? O'CLOCK Fanny Howe six pounds fifty - poems written in Ireland and the UK - good as ever: Rambling snowmounds and still sheep along Cheviot Hills, dense fog, dots of dirt, snow-banged buildings, scraped fields. Land pays the price for becoming human. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x x Richard Caddel, E-mail: R.I.Caddel @ durham.ac.uk x x Durham University Library, Phone: 0191 374 3044 x x Stockton Rd. Durham DH1 3LY Fax: 0191 374 7481 x x x x "Words! Pens are too light. Take a chisel to write." x x - Basil Bunting x x x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 09:05:41 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Keith Tuma Subject: Re: UK-CALL In-Reply-To: Message of Tue, 5 Sep 1995 09:51:07 +0100 from Dear Ric C: A couple of days ago you mentioned John Riley's "Czargrad" as one of the best poems out of the UK in twenty years. I wonder--if you've time--if you might elaborate a little. What, in your opinion, makes it so? What are some of the competitors? Don't mean to put you on the spot: feel free to ignore this public query. Regarding the "Cambridge School," I've recently had brought home to me in correspondence the degree of skepticism about the career and activities of the late Eric Mottram among some of that group. The smaller the pie, the sharper the knife? Or something more serious? Another query to be ignored at your pleasure. --Keith Tuma ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 14:23:28 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ken Edwards <100344.2546@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: UK poetry The following message intended for Cristina Brown was returned to me as undeliverable, so I'm posting it here, as an addendum to recent messages from Pierre, Ric and George. By the way, I'd like to endorse much of what Ric said about the US/UK relationship. And to add that while it's good that folks are getting interested in current French and post-Soviet writing, I'm forever mystified why "interesting" British poetry is still so widely ignored in the US. Can't be a translation problem, surely.... Dear Cristina, Just picked up your request from the Poetics list. Small correction: John James lives and works in the city of Cambridge, but not at Cambridge University - you'll find him at Anglia Polytechnic University. Andrew (not Anthony) Crozier is at Sussex. Others you may want to contact for leads: Drew Milne, also at Sussex; Peter Middleton at Southampton. English depts in each case. Ric Caddel you already know. Worth contacting in the US, as well as Peter Quartermain, who has already been mentioned: Romana Huk at the University of New Hampshire. Sorry, don't yet have a proper address for her, as she's only recently returned there after a couple of years here in the UK - but she's planning a big conference at UNH for 1996 on current UK poetries. She's done some work on Denise Riley, John Wilkinson etc. I am not an academic so I'm not the person to suggest to you how to go about these things, but hopefully you'll find some of the above helpful. Please feel free to ask me anything though and I'll do my best to help. As you may know, I was co-editor of The New British Poetry, along with Eric Mottram who sadly is no longer with us - he would've been the best person to help you but died suddenly last February. All the best, Ken Edwards ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 16:38:58 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Kit Robinson Subject: UK-CALL Reply to: UK-CALL Cristina Brown, Re: your research on British poets, you might be interested in two essays I wrote for the Dictionary of Literary Biography: British Poets Since 1945 (Bruccoli-Clark), one on Anselm Hollo and one on Tom Raworth. They would be available in the Brown library, I should think. Kit Robinson krobinson@bando.com ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 17:02:21 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Kit Robinson Subject: Russian poetry Reply to: Russian poetry Chris Reiner, Re: your interest in contemporary Russian poetry, Alef Books in New York will soon publish my translation of Ilya Kutik's Ode: On Visiting the Belosaraisk Spit on the Sea of Azov. Kit Robinson krobinson@bando.com ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 07:52:41 PDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jerry Rothenberg Subject: Re: duende About Lorca's duende & blues, you might want to check out those lyrics in which the blues are personfied, emerge as living beings, to fill the singer/poet with deep song, deep thoughts, or draw it out of him/her. E.g.: woke up this morning blues all around my bed etc. That kind of thing. And then the way one speaks of having the blues -- not in a negative way but as it allows the song/ the poem to come -- is very reminiscent of Lorca's duende & his take on cante _hondo_. It's also useful to not forget the popular thrust in Lorca & other germinal poets of language. Jerome Rothenberg jrothenb@carla.ucsd.edu ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 17:14:07 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Stephen Galen Cope Subject: Re: duende Check out Nate Mackey's lecture/ essay on duende (among other things) entitled "Cante Moro," and published in Naropa Institute's "Disembodied Poetics" collection. Excellent piece w/ a discography to boot... -Stephen Cope ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 13:25:54 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tina Subject: Re: UK-CALL In-Reply-To: Message of Tue, 5 Sep 1995 09:51:07 +0100 from Subject: Gratefully To: Ric Caddel, Aaron Shurin, George Bowering, Pierre Joris, Peter Larkin, Ira Lightman, Marjorie Perloff, Keith Tuma & others I owe you all. After posting that message I went home & practically cried (nervousness & so on). Have downloaded all responses & will read them over carefully, then get back to (some of) you. Who knows, this may actually work out, thanks to all your help--& maybe I'll see some of you there. I havent been following the French poets discussion closely, but thought I would mention J. Roubaud & others (Albiach? Royet-Journoud?) will be reading at Brown in late October, in case it hasn't come up yet, if it makes a difference to anyone--I imagine you all find out these things through other channels but there it is-- Tina ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 15:14:12 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gale Nelson Subject: Re: Studying in England In-Reply-To: Message of Mon, 4 Sep 1995 01:41:31 -0700 from Legend has it that when Dallas Wiebe wanted to do his dissertation on Ezra Pound, he was told by the department that he couldn't for the same reason as George Bowering was told he couldn't study Bunting. Wiebe, so the story goes, then suggested Wyndham Lewis as subject for his dissertation. Reports tell us that the faculty involved were unsure whether or not Lewis was alive; as they didn't want to admit this, they approved the dissertation plan. Wiebe was doing his graduate work at U of Michigan. Cheers, Gale Nelson ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 14:58:46 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gale Nelson Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: Message of Sun, 3 Sep 1995 08:21:24 PDT from For contemporary French literature, please consider Avec # 4 and Serie d'ecriture (magazine issues are # 3, # 4, # 7). Also Tyuonyi 9/10: Violence of the White Page. All should be available from Small Press Distribution, 1814 San Pablo Ave, Berkeley CA 94702. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 15:54:20 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gale Nelson Subject: Re: Fate In-Reply-To: Message of Thu, 31 Aug 1995 16:34:26 EDT from Those with an interest in French poetry may be interested in Serie d'ecriture, a journal of French poetry in English translations. It is edited by Rosmarie Waldrop. Issues are available through Small Press Distribution, 1814 San Pablo Ave, Berkeley CA 94702. Gale Nelson ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 20:22:28 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: boredom is a genteel way to take offense Ron Who was it who found Williams boring? I hear that from a lot of people, and I'd like to start collecting reasons why Williams is boring. Jordan PS If it was Ed Foster, Ed, does being in New Jersey have anything to do with it? Post Post E-Stamp My mom gave me her copy of On the Road, said it was boring, her bookmark on the page where they talk about sex in jail... ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 17:27:57 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Poets, Nations, In-Reply-To: <199509050047.RAA03773@ix9.ix.netcom.com> from "Ron Silliman" at Sep 4, 95 05:47:15 pm An aside to Ron's mentioning of poets who write in languages of fewer than 100 million people. It gets more difficult: think of Hungarian writers and Finnish writers. But there is another problem too, for writers who write in French in Quebec or Tahiti, or writers who write in English in Canada or new Zealand. In Canada the few readers there are are likely to be reading US writers rather than Canadian ones because of the US imperialist control of Canadian distribution. Concerning your question, Ron, about Califormia being a national literature. What if it were all in Spanish? ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 13:34:57 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: talisman we're not ever where we were: it's now talisman house at p.o. box 3157 jersey city, nj 07303-3157 offices/stock room (UPS only) at 129 wayne st. jersey city, nj 07302 phone: (201) 938-0698 ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 10:05:11 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: UK-CALL talking of sharp knives small pies, Keith, you shd see what a small pie does to anything post 1910 ish in New Zealand. Alan Loney is a still a whipping boy and he's going grey. Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 17:11:48 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: remg.reng.reng.reng In-Reply-To: <199509050604.XAA21341@well.com> from "Thomas Bell" at Sep 4, 95 11:04:10 pm Someone writes > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > First inverted whistle of a bishop in the poplar > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed mind > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > (inspection > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > kook!" > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > warehouse, churls > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > dry cleaners > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > encore > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > moments > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > were hooks. > > > All melted like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > darkness > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > fruit > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum: > > > there is no visible sky on its own (in this nature) > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > , while the door gave way when his fist fell upon it-- > ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 10:50:49 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "A. Morris" Subject: address query In-Reply-To: For a project in process I'd like to be able to get in touch with Tina Darragh, P. Inman, Erica Hunt, & Mei-mei Bersenbrugge. Can anyone help me backchannel with addresses s-mail or e-mail? Thanks-- Dee ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 11:10:59 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: Dear Ed Foster, But, Ron, the title "All Acts Are Simply Acts" is, to my mind, wholly ironic, and everything in the book works against it. When acts are simply acts we can charm ourselves with such matters as the placement of words on the page. Or whatever. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 15:34:05 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: remg.reng.reng.reng In-Reply-To: <199509050604.XAA21341@well.com> On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > Jordan Davis writes > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > (inspection > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > kook!" > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > warehouse, curls > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > dry cleaners > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > prescience > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > encore > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > moments to be > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > were hooks. > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > darkness > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > fruit > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 23:57:21 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Kenneth Goldsmith Subject: Hard Press/Lingo New URL/Lingo 4 Online Hard Press and Lingo: A Journal Of The Arts has a new URL: http://hardpress.com Please make a note of it as the old URL will soon disappear. The entire text of Lingo 4 is available on the website. Here's what's there: LINGO 4 _________________________________________________________________ CONTENTS _________________________________________________________________ Music Mark Swed The New Composers Peter Occhiogrosso Dig The New Breed: A Highly Selective Guide To Some Recent Concert Music Film Kent Jones Abel Ferrara, The Man: Who Cares? Fiction Hubert Selby Jr. A Christmas Tale Portfolio Anna Bialobroda Five Paintings John Yau Between the "I" and the "You": "Recent Paintings by Anna Bialobroda Noel Dolla Five Paintings Raphael Rubinstein Death Under a Blue Sky of Painting: "An Interview with Noel Dolla" Philip Guston Six Collaborations *Debra Bricker Balken Philip Guston's Poem-Pictures Poetry Chris Stroffolino Review: David Shapiro's "After A Lost Original David Shapiro Five Poems Keith Waldrop First Draw The Sea Kevin Killian Needles and Pins Hiroshi Sugimoto Four Photographs Anselm Hollo Reviewing the Tape Susan Wheeler Two Poems Ben Watkins Two Photographs Carol Szamatowicz Three Poems Charles Bernstein Nuclear Banks Lisa Jarnot from "Epistle Prairie Dog" Lynne Beyer Three Poems Michael Ackerman Two Photographs Bob Perelman "Writing In Real Time" Kimberly Lyons "Three Poems" Ray DiPalma "Three Poems" Mary Morse "Two Photographs" Dodie Bellamy Dear Reader Ed Friedman Presence Flavia Gandolfo Four Photographs George Albon My Fellow Americans Will Alexander Two Poems Mark Ducharme Trains Jordan Davis Blue Chevrolets Steve Malmude Two Poems John Godfrey Odds Lent Bare Judy Fiskin Two Photogrpahs *Keith & Rosemarie Waldrop Interview with Claude Royet-Journoud *will be up shortly Coming Soon On The Website: Lingo 3 ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 00:58:23 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: boredom is a genteel way to take offense Re Williams & "boring": I was in a "workshop" back when I was young in which the "teacher" (an award-winning poet w/ major trade publications) read us, what else, The Red Wheelborrow & then asked the class "what is this poem about"-- he got several responses none of which were *the one* he was looking for-- after a bit of silence he sd, quite seriously, "well, obviously it's about Spring." --Rod ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 13:47:33 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: (Fwd) Re: UK-CALL This post would not go through to RI.Caddel@durham.ac.uk something wrong with address (I can't think what) so list-members please excuse this back-channel going front-channel ------- Forwarded Message Follows ------- From: Self To: R.I.Caddel@durham.ac.uk Subject: Re: UK-CALL Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 13:32:25 I've been following the conversation about Eng writers and Universities. It's good to know something is happening with Bunting and the "cambridge"poets, Mottram etc. It always seemed strange that way back in the fifties there was a total silence abt U.S. poets and poetics in Britain (as far as I cd tell). It was not till I got to New Zealand that I found out what was missing from my education (at Cambridge). It was Creeley's writing that sent me hunting for Bunting's books in London in 1977 (damned if I cd see much. "Who?" they said in places like Hatchards). Good luck & cheers Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 07:17:41 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: Poets, Nations, In-Reply-To: <199509060027.RAA14619@fraser.sfu.ca> from "George Bowering" at Sep 5, 95 05:27:57 pm Ron -- re small nations: you should come along next time I travel back to my own tribe, the Grand-Ducal nation of Luxembourg, with only 370000 bona-fide members & I'll take you to one of our writer's union meetings -- about 65 members strong right now, writing in several different languages -- Letzeburgesch, French, German, Portuguese, Italian & one or two even in English -- it's strangely exhilerating to note that books of poetry by eithewr of the two small presses over there are printed in editions of 1000 copies -- which is about the same as small to medium presses over here do. ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 13:33:58 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: R I Caddel Subject: UK Resources etc In-Reply-To: <199509060450.FAA09975@tucana.dur.ac.uk> The volumes of DLB which Kit Robinson refers to (v40, 1985, two parts) are useful as a starting-place for UK poetry up to the early eighties. Because they claim to cover ALL UK poetries of that period, there are a lot of boring people in there, and a lot of interesting ones left out (presumably a lot of boring people left out, for that matter...). The interesting inclusions include: Hollo and Raworth (as noted), Prynne, Roy Fisher, Gael Turnbull, Tom Pickard, John Riley, and a really spiffy one on Lee Harwood by me. There's also a little press round up, which leaves out much (including Fulcrum and Trigram), but includes Ferry, Grosseteste, Migrant, Goliard, Writer's Forum and Pig Press! One hopes that one day Bruccoli-Clark will do a follow-up volume. But spare a thought for those wandering souls who fail the country-of-origin test of these strictly controlled formats: for instance, where would Pierre Joris appear? Answers on a postcard... (Pierre: would you like to say what volume you'd like to appear in, and who you'd choose for company?) Keith, it's far better to put me on the spot about "Czargrad", I tried to write about it years ago and failed (the bits I did write about John Riley are referenced in DLB40). Besides, I'm sure you recognised my blurb-writer's mode in any claims I made for it. Read it: It's a sustained piece of musicality, written at a time when Riley had assimilated the bits of "open field" which he wanted, (and rejected the bits he didn't want) and was revelling in life in general. It relates to his conversion to Russian Orthodoxy, but it's not an evangelical tract - Riley's "Holy City" is more closely related to the down-to-earth suburb of Leeds where he lived, tho it's infused with little bits of European history. And light - there's light everywhere in Riley's poems. One of the accusations made against the Cambridge poets (generally, rather than specifically) is that they're icily "intellectual" ("intellectual" is a term of abuse in UK). Nobody could ever accuse John Riley of being icy. Well, you did ask... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x x Richard Caddel, E-mail: R.I.Caddel @ durham.ac.uk x x Durham University Library, Phone: 0191 374 3044 x x Stockton Rd. Durham DH1 3LY Fax: 0191 374 7481 x x x x "Words! Pens are too light. Take a chisel to write." x x - Basil Bunting x x x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 09:15:14 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: rengazo In-Reply-To: <199509060011.RAA11932@fraser.sfu.ca> ***Someone*** `special' "writes" > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > First inverted whistle of a bishop in the poplar > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed mind > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > (inspection > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > kook!" > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > warehouse, churls > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > dry cleaners > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > encore > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > moments > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > were hooks. > > > > All melted like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > darkness > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > fruit > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum: > > > > there is no visible sky on its own (in this nature) > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > > , while the door gave way when his fist fell upon it-- & the brutal reminder,"We speak lifelike in this house" ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 09:24:47 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Mark Wallace Subject: trying to find Jordan Davis Jordan: Will you please contact me back channel ASAP? The e-mail address I have for you turns out not to be the right one. Sorry to burden everyone else with this. mark wallace ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 09:43:00 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: now and duende In-Reply-To: <199509060446.VAA24040@sparta.SJSU.EDU> tom -- this is not the source you're trying to remember -- but look at Bob Kaufman's poetry for a direct link between Duende and blues -- not an assertion that it's the _same_ phenomenon (I don't see how it could be) -- but a crucial link -- also in the Steve Jonas book that Ed Foster published a bit over a year ago -- and Jayne Cortez ,,,, and so on ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 09:48:38 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: your american cousin In-Reply-To: <199509060446.VAA24040@sparta.SJSU.EDU> Ken -- who was it remarked that Britain and America are peoples divided by a common language? The real problem I see is the simple one of distribution -- _most_ of the poets mentioned recently, even those of the Cambridge "school" -- are not easily found in US book stores -- (Hell, for years you couldn't even buy a copy of Wilson Harris here, and he's published by Faber!) -- When I do spot an interesting British poet in a mag. or an anthology (or hear about one in a Tuma talk somewhere) -- then I can start working the phones to turn up a copy -- but it ain't easy -- even the Caracnet titles I've gotten over the years have all been found in obscure used book stores -- though I would hope none of what I just said is true in NY -- ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 13:49:55 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: boredom is a genteel way to take offense why is williams boring, jordan? aside from the fact that so much he did had been done by others better, it has, i think, much to do with the fact that he believed in evidence, like answers to a question. in yr mom's terms, yes, nj is boring. ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 14:26:30 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Joe Amato Subject: rejection rejection... thought many of you might enjoy the following... it's a bit macademically centered, but it's witty as hell... i've stripped off most of the absurdly long mail header... best, joe (amato) ---------------- >---------- Forwarded message ---------- >Date: Tue, 15 Aug 1995 08:00:06 -0400 >From: BENESFAN@aol.com >To: dross@strauss.udel.edu >Subject: Fwd: a rejection letter > >Thought you would enjoy this. >Catherine >--------------------- >Forwarded message: >From: liberty@leland.Stanford.EDU (Dan Garrett) >To: dan.garrett@leland.Stanford.EDU (Dan Garrett) >Date: 95-08-12 20:13:38 EDT > >Liz Boyle handed me a photocopied version of this: > > > > > March 21, 1988 > >Herbert A. Millington >Chair - Search Committee >412A Clarkson Hall >Whitson University >College Hill, MA 34109 > >Dear Professor Millington, > >Thank you for your letter of March 16. After careful >consideration, I regret to inform you that I am unable to accept >your refusal to offer me an assistant professor position in your >department. > >This year I have been particularly fortunate in receiving an >unusually large number of rejection letters. With such a varied >and promising field of candidates it is impossible for me to accept >all refusals. > >Despite Whitson's outstanding qualifications and previous >experience in rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does >not meet my needs at this time. Therefore, I will assume the >position of assistant professor in your department this August. >I look forward to seeing you then. > >Best of luck in rejecting future applicants. > > Sincerely, > > > Chris L. Jensen > >-- >Dan Garrett Stanford Economics dan.garrett@leland.stanford.edu > > ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 15:24:57 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: your american cousin In-Reply-To: from "Aldon L. Nielsen" at Sep 6, 95 09:48:38 am It was Oscar Wilde who made that remark abt Brits and Amerks being separated by a common language. ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 17:23:12 CDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: eric pape Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <199509041821.OAA13950@loki.hum.albany.edu> Pierre:I think Jeff Humphries is working on a translation of _A Field of Islands_, but I don't know when and if it is coming out. I know you can read an excerpt (those of you who are EnglishOnly) on the LSU campus gopher under Body_L: literature electric and new. Great stuff, incidentally. Thanks, Eric. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:26:46 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: your american cousin Aldon, isn't this difficulty of transatlantic interconnection largely due to book-sellers agreements on trading. American publications are pretty well invisible in Britain aren't they? Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:29:59 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: Studying in England In the later 1960's Art Historians in London decided that Modern Art could be taught, but not examined, because my informant (Leo Ettlinger) said nobody yet knew finally what it meant. My then colleague Ivor Davis, in Edinburgh, taught and examined Modern, and was duly persecuted for same. But survived. Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:39:17 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: (Fwd) Re: UK-CALL Sorry, folks. I can't get back-channels to Durham. Machine problems of some sort. " R I Caddel Subject: Re: UK-CALL To: Tony Green said: .Bunting and the Cambridge Poets" - sounds like a mid-eighties art band to me... You struck it unlucky in your trip to London (but then, any trip to London is an unlucky one, in my experience): 1977 was the year before OUP reissuued Bunting's collected poems, as a cheapskate photographic copy of the long-out-of-print Fulcrum (1968) edition. It wasn't until 1994 that they actually reset Bunting, in the new "Complete Poems". It was Bunting who introduced me to Creeley's work, as he did to Niedecker, David Jones, Zukofsky, and much else. I'd have been foolish to have tried to ask my teachers about them - in any case, if you want to know what's cooking, you always have to go to the kitchen... best, Richard" Hope you don't mind this being public. I did find a Fulcrum The Spoils in 1977. And got hold of the cheapskate reprint the next year thanks to a friend in London. What's London done to you? I still visit, tho I haven't lived there since 1957. I guess it's not yr home town. Cheers. Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 15:51:05 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: boredom is a genteel way to take offense In-Reply-To: <950906004623_11998452@mail06.mail.aol.com> from "Rod Smith" at Sep 6, 95 00:58:23 am Once my wife Angela Luoma asked her class what was happening in "The Red Wheelbarrow" and one of her bible belter students said it was all about the Communist empire and the innocent vistims. ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 16:14:59 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: from "Jorge Guitart" at Sep 5, 95 03:34:05 pm > > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > > > Jordan Davis writes > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > (inspection > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > kook!" > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > dry cleaners > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > > prescience > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > encore > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > moments to be > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > were hooks. > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > darkness > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > fruit > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 20:53:32 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: <199509062316.QAA20675@fraser.sfu.ca> On Wed, 6 Sep 1995, George Bowering wrote: > > > > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > > > > > Jordan Davis writes > > > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > > (inspection > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > > kook!" > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > > dry cleaners > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > > > prescience > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > > encore > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > > moments to be > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > > were hooks. > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > > darkness > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > > fruit > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 18:00:38 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Stephen Galen Cope Subject: duende There's a pop-flamenco group called Pata Negra whose recording "Blues de la Frontera" is a musical example of the blues/ duende link being discussed. Incidentally, there's another group by the name of Amalgama - a collaboration between jazz and flamenco musicians from Spain and the Karnataka College of Percussion, from India - whose work testifies to the important cultural link between blues/ jazz and gypsy cante jondo that the Indian Raga provides... -Stephen Cope (O, and both groups can be found on a 3-CD compilation called "Duende: The Passion and Dazzling Virtuosity of Flamenco," put out by Ellipses Arts (Rosalyn, NY) last year. Not the greatest title, but a decent comp- ilation w/ decent liner notes... ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 23:26:04 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: boredom is a genteel way to take offense In-Reply-To: <950906004623_11998452@mail06.mail.aol.com> from "Rod Smith" at Sep 6, 95 00:58:23 am Red Wheelbarrow as Spring? I thought it was about being about. ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 23:23:28 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: boredom is a genteel way to take offense In-Reply-To: <950905202227_91909937@mail06.mail.aol.com> from "Jordan Davis." at Sep 5, 95 08:22:28 pm One of my profs said Williams is one of the best children's poets, as well as one of the best. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 08:30:19 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: desire / and the 39 steps Comments: cc: Edward Foster punches return to plums pulling branches - low. skies icing over towers of straw. distraction cut himself shaving. trims loss. framing the letters raw, barbied his memory plain. when gloaming light drawn western isles hood adequately midged, hummocks lamented boy. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:08:26 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: your american cousin Aldon, distribution is governed by sales generated by interest. British poetry doesn't get distributed much because there's not MUCH interest. BUT we already know from previous discussions here that US small presses are having a tough time with problems of distribution as well. The reservations, for distributors, about dealing with small presses from other countries much compound what is already a reticence on their (and the poetries' audiences?) behalf. Visibility of British Poetries most compatible with a broad swathe of viewpoints from this poetics list (not writers more generally put out by Carcanet or Bloodaxe, so much as those poets found in 'A Various Art' / 'The New British Poetry' or the forthcoming 'Conductors of Chaos') has diminished over the past 15 years both here and in the US. While small press publishing and little magazines are arguably on a slight optimistic up trend here, and there is a blossoming of grass roots organising and networking, new writing is often published in samizdat style editions of 100 copies or less. (NB there are notable exceptions - Pig Press, Reality Street among them). Hell even the Paladin series (of which Raworth's 'Tottering State' must be the most widely known Stateside) was remaindered after mostly only about 6 months on the shelves. Useful collections such as 'Future Exiles' have simply been hastily pulped! Curiously, for some of the writers living here (and I imagine in NZ as well) there is a feeling (emergent on this list) that their closest peers and readers lie at least as frequently in the US as 'at home'. The old adage you quote of being 'divided by a common language' need not become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's a term most appropriate to those xenophobic literary hacks who are the most tedious of standard english standard bearers. I'd characterise 'us' as more united by antinomian tendencies. We're seeking to explore pathways of exchange and discussion and distribution of both product and process for work in poetry which as Allen Fisher puts it remains 'necessary business'. Part of that is a post-nationalistic desire to present appropriate ways for exchange that do not follow the business-imperative driven cultural asphyxias of multi-national role models. unity in diversity is strength in depth love and love cris ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 07:39:07 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Michael Boughn Subject: Commie wheelbarrows In-Reply-To: <199509062251.PAA16676@fraser.sfu.ca> from "George Bowering" at Sep 6, 95 03:51:05 pm > Once my wife Angela Luoma asked her class what was happening in "The > Red Wheelbarrow" and one of her bible belter students said it was all > about the Communist empire and the innocent vistims. While teaching *Spring and All* last year, I had a similar response from a student (a good student, too) who had been told by her high school English teacher "The Red Wheelbarrow" was an allegory of the cold war. You know, the "red", the "white", tools, all that. Maybe it's a Canadian thing. Mike mboughn@epas.utoronto.ca ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 13:09:54 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: R I Caddel Subject: UK/US/UK book distribution In-Reply-To: <199509070711.IAA01897@tucana.dur.ac.uk> Yes, it's a problem, and not one that we look to bookstores to answer. Various UK small presses are available through SPD: Pig, Reality Street, North & South, Spectacular Diseases spring to mind; and Segue take some too. Over here we go to Alan Halsey, Paul Green or Compendium for US books: I've no idea if that would work in reverse. Heaven knows how we go about finding out what's goin on in, for instance, New Zealand, other than - as always - asking a friend. Booksellers tell me that it's BECAUSE we all use these "specialist" outlets that "trade" bookshops don't touch smallpress poetry imports. The expression "bullshit" springs to mind. As for London, Tony, since you asked in public I'll tell you: many wonderful things (including some of my best friends) are or have lodged in that city, which Cobbett called "The Great Wen". It's just that when I go there my breath clamps, I have to shout to be heard, the beer's too pricey, and I can never ditch the feeling that I'm about to get exploited. As the home of a central government which has sucked the regions dry for about four centuries (and hasn't done any favours to most Londoners either), it creams off national resource to support its mainstream cultural icons (museums, orchestras, galleries etc) as if it owned them, and when regional resources come into the country (as in European Union funding), they get stuck in the "Capital" and creamed off by central power (I can support this statement at great length, If you like...). Hey, this internet thing is secure, isn't it?... Just a personal thing, I guess... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x x Richard Caddel, E-mail: R.I.Caddel @ durham.ac.uk x x Durham University Library, Phone: 0191 374 3044 x x Stockton Rd. Durham DH1 3LY Fax: 0191 374 7481 x x x x "Words! Pens are too light. Take a chisel to write." x x - Basil Bunting x x x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 08:50:50 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Re: your american cousin/distribution In-Reply-To: <9509071000.aa03607@post.demon.co.uk> I was intrigued by Chris Cheek's remarks concerning British distribution of poetries "most compatible with the broad swathe of viewpoints from this poetics list." During the past three years, I've become particularly interested in the "distribution problem." The poetics list is well aware that only one major distributor for such work remains in the U.S.: Small Press Distribution. During the past two years, I served on the NEA Small Press panel, chairing in the second year both that panel and the panel on distribution, during which time I attempted to the best of my ability to represent the interests of presses associated with the poetries of this list. The task required considerable patience and humor. Finally, I was also able to move that future distribution requests be raised to $100,000. All of this may be moot by now, but the experience was quite educative. The panel on small presses was persuaded to be generous. During the second year, the budget axe fell so deplorably early in the list that many presses which would have or did receive grants the first year did not in the second. The tax law "reform" requiring publishers to pay tax on wharehoused books must be rescinded. The twenty-five or so remaining literary bookstores must be supported to the exclusion of even the most seemingly "literary" of the chains. It might please this list to know that Luisa of the Grolier in Cambridge (US) survives these days on the sale of poetry associated with the various interests of this list. She can be reached at 1-800-234-POEM, and ships promptly. Her stock is extensive. While in Prague this past summer, my Czech friends were lamenting that, during the past five years, editions of poetry and serious prose had "fallen" to two or three thousand copies. The population of the new Czech Republic is ten million. The Hungarians were similarly chagrined. They falsely believed the situation to be better here, and were stunned when I gave them the statistics I had collected while serving on the panel. The "problem" of distribution is political, and not simply a matter of supply and demand. Best, Carolyn Forche ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 09:07:30 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Loss Glazier Subject: Re: UK/US/UK book distribution In-Reply-To: from "R I Caddel" at Sep 7, 95 01:09:54 pm > Yes, it's a problem, and not one that we look to bookstores to answer. > Various UK small presses are available through SPD: Pig, Reality Street, > North & South, Spectacular Diseases spring to mind; and Segue take some > too. Over here we go to Alan Halsey, Paul Green or Compendium for US > books: I've no idea if that would work in reverse. Heaven knows how we go > about finding out what's goin on in, for instance, New Zealand, other > than - as always - asking a friend. This may be one area (always look to a technology as a large shift but maybe with a small gain) that the electronic medium may help--and is of course the idea behind the EPC's small press and little magazine areas. (These areas specifically design to promote paper materials.) I suspect there are many more readers for some of this material than we think. (OK, maybe a few more.) But think of the possibilities--a central set of links--or several overlapping centres/centers of links--where such information can be housed. Listings are free. What has surprised me is that more presses don't list. But maybe that is something to come. We have had good reports from some publishers for whom we have posted announcements, that they see results. Of course this is why I try to encourage publishers to also provide samples of work; and we also maintain an area of pedagogical material--since if one small press book could be brought into every course it would change everything. But anyway, a place to find out about these works. Thinking largely, also, of people in regional situations (or as you say in other countries) where there may not be a place to browse such materials. Hopefully this medium is serving as another possible bridge. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 09:37:14 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" Organization: University of NC at Greensboro Subject: Red Wheelbarrow My favorite explication of "The Red Wheelbarrow" was one I got, which explained that it was a tribute to the American Farmer. I mean so much depends on him. About being bored with Williams, I would adapt Samuel Johnson's remark, "He who is tired of London is tired of life." People bored with Williams should go sit on the curb and wait for the trash people to take them off. Makes me think of the old woman in the ambulance in the Williams poem: "What are those things? Trees? Well I'm tired of them." Tom Kirby-Smith English Department UNC-Greensboro Greensboro NC 27412 ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:46:36 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow About being bored with Williams, I would adapt Samuel Johnson's remark, "He who is tired of London is tired of life." People bored with Williams should go sit on the curb and wait for the trash people to take them off Tom Kirby-Smith - Interesting comment, professor. Personally, I was bored with all the poets I read straight thru grad. school, but that didn't prevent me from reading them on my own where, without doubt, I got much more from the readings. Still, I never encountered that kind of remark. Maybe you were kidding (?) Anyway, why do you think students may be bored by Williams or any other poet? Why do you think there is an need felt by students to explicate a poem in the first place? I remember after 40 minutes of talking about a poem in class as an undergraduate, the instructor thought it went pretty well. But outside, among students, the feeling was still 'who the fuck cares.' I've kept at poetry despite all the professors I've had, and altho some were very good, very few could make a viable connection between the poetry and the students. Usually the points were made between the poetry and the poet; the relevance of the poetry to the student being a matter of little significance. It's frustrating to hear such abstractions as a "general readership" in this country denigrated as a bunch of silly asses who can't appreciate the diverseness and sophistication of American literature. The question is: what can we do about it? daniel_bouchard@hmco.com ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 07:54:24 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: What if it were all in Spanish? In-Reply-To: <199509070707.AAA06055@sparta.SJSU.EDU> an aside to George's aside -- two decades ago the Casa de las Americas prize for best literary work in Spanish in the Americas went to Rolando Hinojoso for the first of his Klail City novels -- the author was a Texan -- for many literary academics in the U.S. at the time it came as a surprise that major literary works were being written in Spanish in the U.S. -- As Victor Hernandez Cruz says of Nebraska: "In this part of Mexico they speak English." some of the others on this list probably had experiences similar to mine in college -- when I announced that I was going to read Spanish as my "tool" language for a future graduate school, my undergrad. advisors cautioned me that no "serious" criticism was written in Spanish -- I couldn't help wondering how they would know that -- ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 08:08:17 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: cousin cousine In-Reply-To: <199509070707.AAA06055@sparta.SJSU.EDU> never been to Britain, so don't know -- can somebody who's looked for books in both the U.K. and the U.S. answer this? Particularly with regard to mid. sized & small presses? I can get "Spectacular Diseases" stuff here -- and journals like _Third Text_ -- but not much current British verse -- On Thu, 7 Sep 1995, Automatic digest processor wrote: > There are 27 messages totalling 954 lines in this issue. > > Topics of the day: > > 1. Poets, Nations, (2) > 2. talisman > 3. UK-CALL > 4. remg.reng.reng.reng (2) > 5. address query > 6. Dear Ed Foster, > 7. Hard Press/Lingo New URL/Lingo 4 Online > 8. boredom is a genteel way to take offense (3) > 9. (Fwd) Re: UK-CALL (2) > 10. UK Resources etc > 11. rengazo > 12. trying to find Jordan Davis > 13. now and duende > 14. your american cousin (3) > 15. rejection rejection... > 16. Jabes > 17. Studying in England > 18. Two rengs dont make a write (2) > 19. duende > > ---------------------------------------------------------------------- > > Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 17:27:57 -0700 > From: George Bowering > Subject: Re: Poets, Nations, > > An aside to Ron's mentioning of poets who write in languages of fewer > than 100 million people. It gets more difficult: think of Hungarian > writers and Finnish writers. But there is another problem too, for > writers who write in French in Quebec or Tahiti, or writers who write > in English in Canada or new Zealand. In Canada the few readers there > are are likely to be reading US writers rather than Canadian ones > because of the US imperialist control of Canadian distribution. > Concerning your question, Ron, about Califormia being a national > literature. What if it were all in Spanish? > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 13:34:57 -0500 > From: Edward Foster > Subject: talisman > > we're not ever where we were: it's now talisman house at > p.o. box 3157 > jersey city, nj 07303-3157 > offices/stock room (UPS only) at > 129 wayne st. > jersey city, nj 07302 > phone: (201) 938-0698 > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 10:05:11 GMT+1200 > From: Tony Green > Subject: Re: UK-CALL > > talking of sharp knives small pies, Keith, you shd see what a small > pie does to anything post 1910 ish in New Zealand. Alan Loney is a > still a whipping boy and he's going grey. > > Tony Green, > e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz > post: Dept of Art History, > University of Auckland, > Private Bag 92019, > Auckland, New Zealand > Fax: 64 9-373 7014 > Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 17:11:48 -0700 > From: George Bowering > Subject: Re: remg.reng.reng.reng > > Someone writes > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > First inverted whistle of a bishop in the poplar > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed mind > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > (inspection > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > kook!" > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > warehouse, churls > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > dry cleaners > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > encore > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > moments > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > were hooks. > > > > All melted like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > darkness > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > fruit > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum: > > > > there is no visible sky on its own (in this nature) > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > > , while the door gave way when his fist fell upon it-- > > > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 10:50:49 -0500 > From: "A. Morris" > Subject: address query > > For a project in process I'd like to be able to get in touch with > Tina Darragh, P. Inman, Erica Hunt, & Mei-mei Bersenbrugge. Can anyone > help me backchannel with addresses s-mail or e-mail? Thanks-- > > Dee > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 11:10:59 -0500 > From: Edward Foster > Subject: Re: Dear Ed Foster, > > But, Ron, the title "All Acts Are Simply Acts" is, to my mind, wholly ironic, an > d everything in the book works against it. When acts are simply acts we can char > m ourselves with such matters as the placement of words on the page. Or whatever > . > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 15:34:05 -0400 > From: Jorge Guitart > Subject: Re: remg.reng.reng.reng > > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > > > Jordan Davis writes > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > (inspection > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > kook!" > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > dry cleaners > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > > prescience > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > encore > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > moments to be > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > were hooks. > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > darkness > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > fruit > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 23:57:21 -0400 > From: Kenneth Goldsmith > Subject: Hard Press/Lingo New URL/Lingo 4 Online > > Hard Press and Lingo: A Journal Of The Arts has a new URL: > > http://hardpress.com > > Please make a note of it as the old URL will soon disappear. > > The entire text of Lingo 4 is available on the website. > Here's what's there: > > > > LINGO 4 > > > _________________________________________________________________ > > CONTENTS > > > _________________________________________________________________ > > Music > > Mark Swed The New Composers > Peter Occhiogrosso Dig The New Breed: A Highly Selective Guide To > Some Recent Concert Music > > > Film > > Kent Jones Abel Ferrara, The Man: Who Cares? > > > Fiction > > Hubert Selby Jr. A Christmas Tale > > > Portfolio > > Anna Bialobroda Five Paintings > John Yau Between the "I" and the "You": "Recent Paintings by Anna > Bialobroda > Noel Dolla Five Paintings > Raphael Rubinstein Death Under a Blue Sky of Painting: "An Interview > with Noel Dolla" > Philip Guston Six Collaborations > *Debra Bricker Balken Philip Guston's Poem-Pictures > > > Poetry > > Chris Stroffolino Review: David Shapiro's "After A Lost Original > David Shapiro Five Poems > Keith Waldrop First Draw The Sea > Kevin Killian Needles and Pins > Hiroshi Sugimoto Four Photographs > Anselm Hollo Reviewing the Tape > Susan Wheeler Two Poems > Ben Watkins Two Photographs > Carol Szamatowicz Three Poems > Charles Bernstein Nuclear Banks > Lisa Jarnot from "Epistle Prairie Dog" > Lynne Beyer Three Poems > Michael Ackerman Two Photographs > Bob Perelman "Writing In Real Time" > Kimberly Lyons "Three Poems" > Ray DiPalma "Three Poems" > Mary Morse "Two Photographs" > Dodie Bellamy Dear Reader > Ed Friedman Presence > Flavia Gandolfo Four Photographs > George Albon My Fellow Americans > Will Alexander Two Poems > Mark Ducharme Trains > Jordan Davis Blue Chevrolets > Steve Malmude Two Poems > John Godfrey Odds Lent Bare > Judy Fiskin Two Photogrpahs > *Keith & Rosemarie Waldrop Interview with Claude Royet-Journoud > > *will be up shortly > > Coming Soon On The Website: Lingo 3 > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 00:58:23 -0400 > From: Rod Smith > Subject: Re: boredom is a genteel way to take offense > > Re Williams & "boring": I was in a "workshop" back when I was young in which > the "teacher" (an award-winning poet w/ major trade publications) read us, > what else, The Red Wheelborrow & then asked the class "what is this poem > about"-- he got several responses none of which were *the one* he was looking > for-- after a bit of silence he sd, quite seriously, "well, obviously it's > about Spring." > > --Rod > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 13:47:33 GMT+1200 > From: Tony Green > Subject: (Fwd) Re: UK-CALL > > This post would not go through to RI.Caddel@durham.ac.uk something > wrong with address (I can't think what) so list-members please excuse > this back-channel going front-channel > ------- Forwarded Message Follows ------- > From: Self > To: R.I.Caddel@durham.ac.uk > Subject: Re: UK-CALL > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 13:32:25 > > I've been following the conversation about Eng writers and > Universities. It's good to know something is happening with > Bunting and the "cambridge"poets, Mottram etc. It always seemed > strange that way back in the fifties there was a total silence abt > U.S. poets and poetics in Britain (as far as I cd tell). It was not > till I got to New Zealand that I found out what was missing > from my education (at Cambridge). It was Creeley's writing > that sent me hunting for Bunting's books in London in 1977 (damned > if I cd see much. "Who?" they said in places like Hatchards). > Good luck & cheers > > Tony Green, > e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz > post: Dept of Art History, > University of Auckland, > Private Bag 92019, > Auckland, New Zealand > Fax: 64 9-373 7014 > Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 07:17:41 -0400 > From: Pierre Joris > Subject: Re: Poets, Nations, > > Ron -- re small nations: you should come along next time I travel back > to my own tribe, the Grand-Ducal nation of Luxembourg, with only > 370000 bona-fide members & I'll take you to one of our writer's union > meetings -- about 65 members strong right now, writing in several > different languages -- Letzeburgesch, French, German, Portuguese, > Italian & one or two even in English -- it's strangely exhilerating to > note that books of poetry by eithewr of the two small presses over > there are printed in editions of 1000 copies -- which is about the > same as small to medium presses over here do. > > ======================================================================= > Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." > Dept. of English | --Paul Celan > SUNY Albany | > Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots > tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet > email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." > joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne > ======================================================================= > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 13:33:58 +0100 > From: R I Caddel > Subject: UK Resources etc > > The volumes of DLB which Kit Robinson refers to (v40, 1985, two parts) are > useful as a starting-place for UK poetry up to the early eighties. Because > they claim to cover ALL UK poetries of that period, there are a lot of > boring people in there, and a lot of interesting ones left out (presumably > a lot of boring people left out, for that matter...). The interesting > inclusions include: Hollo and Raworth (as noted), Prynne, Roy Fisher, Gael > Turnbull, Tom Pickard, John Riley, and a really spiffy one on Lee Harwood > by me. There's also a little press round up, which leaves out much > (including Fulcrum and Trigram), but includes Ferry, Grosseteste, Migrant, > Goliard, Writer's Forum and Pig Press! > > One hopes that one day Bruccoli-Clark will do a follow-up volume. But > spare a thought for those wandering souls who fail the country-of-origin > test of these strictly controlled formats: for instance, where would Pierre > Joris appear? Answers on a postcard... (Pierre: would you like to say > what volume you'd like to appear in, and who you'd choose for company?) > > Keith, it's far better to put me on the spot about "Czargrad", I tried to > write about it years ago and failed (the bits I did write about John > Riley are referenced in DLB40). Besides, I'm sure you recognised my > blurb-writer's mode in any claims I made for it. Read it: It's a sustained > piece of musicality, written at a time when Riley had assimilated the > bits of "open field" which he wanted, (and rejected the bits he didn't > want) and was revelling in life in general. It relates to his conversion > to Russian Orthodoxy, but it's not an evangelical tract - Riley's "Holy > City" is more closely related to the down-to-earth suburb of Leeds where > he lived, tho it's infused with little bits of European history. And > light - there's light everywhere in Riley's poems. > > One of the accusations made against the Cambridge poets (generally, > rather than specifically) is that they're icily "intellectual" > ("intellectual" is a term of abuse in UK). Nobody could ever accuse John > Riley of being icy. > > Well, you did ask... > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx > x x > x Richard Caddel, E-mail: R.I.Caddel @ durham.ac.uk x > x Durham University Library, Phone: 0191 374 3044 x > x Stockton Rd. Durham DH1 3LY Fax: 0191 374 7481 x > x x > x "Words! Pens are too light. Take a chisel to write." x > x - Basil Bunting x > x x > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 09:15:14 -0400 > From: Jorge Guitart > Subject: Re: rengazo > > ***Someone*** `special' "writes" > > > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > > First inverted whistle of a bishop in the poplar > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed mind > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > > (inspection > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > > kook!" > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > > warehouse, churls > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > > dry cleaners > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > > encore > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > > moments > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > > were hooks. > > > > > All melted like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > > darkness > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > > fruit > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum: > > > > > there is no visible sky on its own (in this nature) > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > > > , while the door gave way when his fist fell upon it-- > & the brutal reminder,"We speak lifelike in this house" > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 09:24:47 -0400 > From: Mark Wallace > Subject: trying to find Jordan Davis > > Jordan: > > Will you please contact me back channel ASAP? The e-mail address I > have for you turns out not to be the right one. > Sorry to burden everyone else with this. > > mark wallace > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 09:43:00 -0700 > From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" > Subject: Re: now and duende > > tom -- this is not the source you're trying to remember -- but look at > Bob Kaufman's poetry for a direct link between Duende and blues -- not an > assertion that it's the _same_ phenomenon (I don't see how it could be) > -- but a crucial link -- also in the Steve Jonas book that Ed Foster > published a bit over a year ago -- and Jayne Cortez ,,,, and so on > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 09:48:38 -0700 > From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" > Subject: Re: your american cousin > > Ken -- who was it remarked that Britain and America are peoples divided > by a common language? > > The real problem I see is the simple one of distribution -- _most_ of the > poets mentioned recently, even those of the Cambridge "school" -- are not > easily found in US book stores -- (Hell, for years you couldn't even buy > a copy of Wilson Harris here, and he's published by Faber!) -- > > When I do spot an interesting British poet in a mag. or an anthology (or > hear about one in a Tuma talk somewhere) -- then I can start working the > phones to turn up a copy -- but it ain't easy -- even the Caracnet titles > I've gotten over the years have all been found in obscure used book > stores -- though I would hope none of what I just said is true in NY -- > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 13:49:55 -0500 > From: Edward Foster > Subject: Re: boredom is a genteel way to take offense > > why is williams boring, jordan? aside from the fact that so much he did had been > done by others better, it has, i think, much to do with the fact that he believ > ed in evidence, like answers to a question. in yr mom's terms, yes, nj is boring > . > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 14:26:30 -0500 > From: Joe Amato > Subject: rejection rejection... > > thought many of you might enjoy the following... it's a bit macademically > centered, but it's witty as hell... i've stripped off most of the absurdly > long mail header... > > best, > > joe (amato) > > ---------------- > > >---------- Forwarded message ---------- > >Date: Tue, 15 Aug 1995 08:00:06 -0400 > >From: BENESFAN@aol.com > >To: dross@strauss.udel.edu > >Subject: Fwd: a rejection letter > > > >Thought you would enjoy this. > >Catherine > >--------------------- > >Forwarded message: > >From: liberty@leland.Stanford.EDU (Dan Garrett) > >To: dan.garrett@leland.Stanford.EDU (Dan Garrett) > >Date: 95-08-12 20:13:38 EDT > > > >Liz Boyle handed me a photocopied version of this: > > > > > > > > > > March 21, 1988 > > > >Herbert A. Millington > >Chair - Search Committee > >412A Clarkson Hall > >Whitson University > >College Hill, MA 34109 > > > >Dear Professor Millington, > > > >Thank you for your letter of March 16. After careful > >consideration, I regret to inform you that I am unable to accept > >your refusal to offer me an assistant professor position in your > >department. > > > >This year I have been particularly fortunate in receiving an > >unusually large number of rejection letters. With such a varied > >and promising field of candidates it is impossible for me to accept > >all refusals. > > > >Despite Whitson's outstanding qualifications and previous > >experience in rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does > >not meet my needs at this time. Therefore, I will assume the > >position of assistant professor in your department this August. > >I look forward to seeing you then. > > > >Best of luck in rejecting future applicants. > > > > Sincerely, > > > > > > Chris L. Jensen > > > >-- > >Dan Garrett Stanford Economics dan.garrett@leland.stanford.edu > > > > > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 15:24:57 -0700 > From: George Bowering > Subject: Re: your american cousin > > It was Oscar Wilde who made that remark abt Brits and Amerks being > separated by a common language. > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 17:23:12 CDT > From: eric pape > Subject: Re: Jabes > > Pierre:I think Jeff Humphries is working on a translation of > _A Field of Islands_, but I don't know when and if it is coming out. > I know you can read an excerpt (those of you who are EnglishOnly) on > the LSU campus gopher under Body_L: literature electric and new. > Great stuff, incidentally. > Thanks, Eric. > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:26:46 GMT+1200 > From: Tony Green > Subject: Re: your american cousin > > Aldon, isn't this difficulty of transatlantic interconnection > largely due to book-sellers agreements on trading. American > publications are pretty well invisible in Britain aren't they? > > Tony Green, > e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz > post: Dept of Art History, > University of Auckland, > Private Bag 92019, > Auckland, New Zealand > Fax: 64 9-373 7014 > Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:29:59 GMT+1200 > From: Tony Green > Subject: Re: Studying in England > > In the later 1960's Art Historians in London decided that Modern Art > could be taught, but not examined, because my informant (Leo > Ettlinger) said nobody yet knew finally what it meant. My then colleague > Ivor Davis, in Edinburgh, taught and examined Modern, and was duly > persecuted for same. But survived. > > Tony Green, > e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz > post: Dept of Art History, > University of Auckland, > Private Bag 92019, > Auckland, New Zealand > Fax: 64 9-373 7014 > Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:39:17 GMT+1200 > From: Tony Green > Subject: (Fwd) Re: UK-CALL > > Sorry, folks. I can't get back-channels to Durham. Machine problems > of some sort. > > " R I Caddel > Subject: Re: UK-CALL > To: Tony Green said: > > > .Bunting and the Cambridge Poets" - sounds like a mid-eighties art band > to me... You struck it unlucky in your trip to London (but then, any trip > to London is an unlucky one, in my experience): 1977 was the year before > OUP reissuued Bunting's collected poems, as a cheapskate photographic > copy of the long-out-of-print Fulcrum (1968) edition. It wasn't until > 1994 that they actually reset Bunting, in the new "Complete Poems". > > It was Bunting who introduced me to Creeley's work, as he did to > Niedecker, David Jones, Zukofsky, and much else. I'd have been foolish to > have tried to ask my teachers about them - in any case, if you want to > know what's cooking, you always have to go to the kitchen... > > best, > Richard" > > Hope you don't mind this being public. > > I did find a Fulcrum The Spoils in 1977. And got hold of the > cheapskate reprint the next year thanks to a friend in London. > What's London done to you? I still visit, tho I haven't lived there > since 1957. I guess it's not yr home town. > Cheers. > > Tony Green, > e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz > post: Dept of Art History, > University of Auckland, > Private Bag 92019, > Auckland, New Zealand > Fax: 64 9-373 7014 > Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 15:51:05 -0700 > From: George Bowering > Subject: Re: boredom is a genteel way to take offense > > Once my wife Angela Luoma asked her class what was happening in "The > Red Wheelbarrow" and one of her bible belter students said it was all > about the Communist empire and the innocent vistims. > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 16:14:59 -0700 > From: George Bowering > Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write > > > > > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > > > > > Jordan Davis writes > > > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > > (inspection > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > > kook!" > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > > dry cleaners > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > > > prescience > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > > encore > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > > moments to be > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > > were hooks. > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > > darkness > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > > fruit > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 20:53:32 -0400 > From: Jorge Guitart > Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write > > On Wed, 6 Sep 1995, George Bowering wrote: > > > > > > > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > > > > > > > Jordan Davis writes > > > > > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > > > flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > > > (inspection > > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > > > kook!" > > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > > > dry cleaners > > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > > > > prescience > > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > > > encore > > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > > > moments to be > > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > > > were hooks. > > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > > > darkness > > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > > > fruit > > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > ------------------------------ > > Date: Wed, 6 Sep 1995 18:00:38 -0700 > From: Stephen Galen Cope > Subject: duende > > There's a pop-flamenco group called Pata Negra > whose recording "Blues de la Frontera" is a musical > example of the blues/ duende link being discussed. > Incidentally, there's another group by the name of > Amalgama - a collaboration between jazz and flamenco > musicians from Spain and the Karnataka College of > Percussion, from India - whose work testifies to > the important cultural link between blues/ jazz and > gypsy cante jondo that the Indian Raga provides... > > -Stephen Cope > > (O, and both groups can be found on a 3-CD compilation > called "Duende: The Passion and Dazzling Virtuosity > of Flamenco," put out by Ellipses Arts (Rosalyn, NY) > last year. Not the greatest title, but a decent comp- > ilation w/ decent liner notes... > > ------------------------------ > > End of POETICS Digest - 5 Sep 1995 to 6 Sep 1995 > ************************************************ > ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 16:01:08 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Degree in Skepticism >Regarding the "Cambridge School," I've recently had brought home to me in >correspondence the degree of skepticism about the career and activities of the >late Eric Mottram among some of that group. Keith, a Degree in Skepticism is an apposite proposal. At least some of Eric's writings (both essays and poetries) would make the reading list. love and love cris ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 11:26:41 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: trees and wheelbarrows Comments: To: poetics the woman in the ambulance who was tired of trees was the narrator's english grandmother, wasn't she. (did wcw really have an english grandmother? it doesn't matter. to me trees are tiresome as moral mirrors but wheelbarrows are not. it is an innovation that hasn't lost its character as such. i hear in "So much depends upon....etc." a quite desperation, a very american quiet desperation. a lot of williams is boring like a lot of a lot of people. but a lot is not, including that moral wheelbarrow. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 16:23:58 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: Capitals >As for London, As a fairly recent emigre, born and lived within its caucas many years, it's a big shout gone out to the Pig Possee on the capital and its draining effects. Over-sophisticated audience almost incapable of response, cynicism beyond the cool of stultification, cultural complacency. Infrastructural abyss, transportational hell and a glutton for resources as Mr. Caddell so justly testifies. Cack on its eggplant! Guess with such a rave review that more will want to live there. love and love, (from a veritable font of generosity (you should hear what Londoners have to say about 'the provinces') "oh that this tutu septic isle would tilt and skid into the briny trough' ("-get off!")) cris p.s. - and as for Cambridge - you've squandered the fumes, now suck the cables dry ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 11:43:37 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: kathryne Lindberg Subject: Re: duende In-Reply-To: Message of Tue, 5 Sep 1995 07:52:41 PDT from Right on duende. Right on!--as one was wont to say. The power and the enabling force of the popular (perhaps a troublesome word) is not to be forgotten. I am reminded particularly of Claude McKay's brilliant insistence on this in *Banjo*. As a poet, McKay was straightjacketed to some extent. He swerved to prose and to that special source/spirit that inspired (breathed life into) Lorca and lots of folks who have found blues, North African seaports and Marseilles simpatico. Pardon the digression on McKay, but he importantly resisted mainstream and assimilationist dismissals of work and lives that might well be associated with duende, with a mysterious bundling of beauty and pain. To others, thanks for the Lorca and Mackey suggestions, but this was exactly the point of departure for my question. There are two very different peridical numbers just out, re: jazz. 1) boundary 2, which is mainly interviews of some jazz greats 2) the most recent issue of African American Review, with a nice piece by Lorenzo Thomas and lots of very nice short takes, including a 1918 New Orleans Picayeune denunciation of the amoral animalism of jass and jassism--- yessssss ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 10:06:13 PST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tom Taylor Organization: PSU Cramer Hall Subject: (Fwd) magazine you #15 ------- Forwarded Message Follows ------- From: Self To: UBPOETICS@UBVM.cc.buffalo.edu Subject: magazine you #15 Date: Thur 7 Sept 95 10am I'm pleased to announce that magazine you #15 is available from me at anabasis po box 216 Oysterville WA, 98641 *about 90 pp -==- different stuff, limited edition first cut @ $7.50, 2.50 shpg MAY BE DUPLICATED visionary material, positing a new direction MAY BE DUPLICATED ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 20:15:08 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: your american cousin/distribution >The "problem" of distribution is political, and not simply a matter >of supply and demand. Yes Carolyn, I completely agree with you - as far as the big picture goes and how the small picture is affected by the big and so on. My suggestion is, and was when this subject last came up, that we have some power as a community (albeit one of interests and of communities with diverse constituencies) to buck the imposition of structure. Loss rightly asserts the potential of the EPC in such regard. I'm heartened to hear of Luisa - do you have an e-dress or snail address for her? She sounds somewhat along the lines of Paul Green here, who's been mentioned already. love and love cris ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 15:28:06 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gale Nelson Subject: Re: your american cousin/distribution In-Reply-To: Message of Thu, 7 Sep 1995 20:15:08 +0000 from The Grolier Bookstore (poetry only) address is, I believe: Five Plympton Street Cambridge MA 02138. I suspect someone who has access to more than memory can check this and confirm (or amend). Gale Nelson ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 20:15:17 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow Tom wrote: > Makes me think of the old woman in the ambulance in > the Williams poem: "What are those things? Trees? Well I'm tired of > them." I'm reminded of a woman who took books back an east London library and berated the librarian for allowing her daughters to withdraw them. "You've no idea what germs they bring into the house!" love and love cris ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 14:09:27 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: LAURA MORIARTY Subject: Day/Moriarty reading Hello everyone, I have a little guilt that I've mostly only posted here when I'm reading, but am on this list at work and don't have time to do more than lurk. This reading's venue has been changed, so even though this is late to mention it: idiom presents Jean Day and Laura Moriarty reading at Brewed Awakenings, 1807 Euclid at Hearst in Berkeley, 7:00 PM, Sunday, 10 Sept This is Alex Corey's series that used to be at Energy Art's Studio in Oakland. moriarty@sfsu.edu ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 09:54:01 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: Poets, Nations, Luxembourg readers of poetry presumably outrun New Zealand readers. I asked Alan Loney (who has published much poetry here) about print-runs. ------- Forwarded Message Follows ------- Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 15:22:41 GMT+1200 From: Alan Loney Subject: Re: (Fwd) Re: Poets, Nations, "inneresting! Usually 300, sometimes 200 copies. The standard poetry edition (commercial) here is now 500 copies. cheers, Alan" Population:3 1/2 million. Best Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 16:58:46 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Robert A Harrison Subject: Visual Poetry Catalog Hi -- A catalog of the Visual Poetry show held at the Hermetic Gallery in Milwaukee, WI is available. To those who contributed, I'll get you a copy real soon. The catalog includes an essays by Johanna Drucker and Karl Young, and VP work from Dick Higgins Irving Weiss Daniel Davidson Peter Balestrieri Steve McCaffery Spencer Selby Pete Spence Crag Hill Nico Vassilakis John Cayley Fernando Aguiar Karl Young Johanna Drucker Leroy Gorman John Byrum John M. Bennett & Susan Smith Nash Clemente Padin Steve Nelson - Raney Bob Grumman Hachivi Edgar Heap of Birds Karl Kempton Thomas Taylor Avelino de Araujo To get a copy, send a check for $10 (US) to: Bob Harrison 2542 N. Bremen, #2 Milwaukee, WI 53212 The show will be up till September 21. The address: Hermetic 828 E. Locust Milwaukee, Wisconsin Thanks lots to everyone who submitted. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 18:16:49 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Steve Evans Subject: The Ear of Alfred Corn The list has no memory, I know, but.... In the inaugural issue of Sulfur (1981), Eliot Weinberger wrote: "Today, who among _Sulfur_ readers (which I take as the progressive, but not radical flank) can spot the ear of Alfred Corn, or distinguish between Howard and Stanley Mosses?" No significant change in terms--more accurately: principles of division--in FIFTEEN years (down even to the immortal strategy of making fun of the foreigner's name). Just an observation (not a just observation). Steve Evans ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 15:23:16 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: What if it were all in Spanish? In-Reply-To: from "Aldon L. Nielsen" at Sep 7, 95 07:54:24 am Hmm, many decades ago, when I was qualifying for grad school, I chose Spanish as my second language at UBC. Maybe because the university is situated on a promontory of Vancouver called Spanish Banks. But I still read Bioy Casares mainly in English. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 15:26:58 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow In-Reply-To: <9509071442.AA02144@notesgate> from "Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco" at Sep 7, 95 10:46:36 am Why the hell should the professor make a "viable connection between the poetry and the students"? That is the students' job, if they think that is important. If they are bored by poetry, let them go and take a course in paleantology and look for a viable connection between themselves and some trilobite. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 18:49:52 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ken Edwards <100344.2546@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: your american cousin Aldon: Sadly, most of the British poets mentioned recently are not easily found in UK book stores either. They're published by small presses which don't have access to nationwide distribution. But some at least can be obtained in the USA from Small Press Distribution in Berkeley. Um - who's Wilson Harris? - Ken ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 15:59:07 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: from "Jorge Guitart" at Sep 6, 95 08:53:32 pm On Sept 7 the hand of Doom wrote:> > On Wed, 6 Sep 1995, George Bowering wrote: > > > > > > > On Mon, 4 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > > > > > > > Jordan Davis writes > > > > > > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's > > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > > > > (inspection > > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > > > > > > kook!" > > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > > > > > warehouse, curls > > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > > > > > > dry cleaners > > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > > > > prescience > > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > > > > > > encore > > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > > > > > moments to be > > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > > > > > were hooks. > > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > > > > > darkness > > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > > > > > > fruit > > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 20:16:35 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Wendy Battin Subject: Re: your american cousin/distribution >> I'm heartened to hear of Luisa - do you have an e-dress or snail > address for her? Louisa Solano Grolier Bookstore 6 Plympton St. Cambridge MA 01038 ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 20:17:28 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Wendy Battin Subject: Re: your american cousin/distribution sorry, wrong zip for the Grolier, shd be 02138 ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 17:26:56 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Study the Dead Gale Nelson wrote: "Legend has it that when Dallas Wiebe wanted to do his dissertation on Ezra Pound, he was told by the department that he couldn't for the same reason as George Bowering was told he couldn't study Bunting. Wiebe, so the story goes, then suggested Wyndham Lewis as subject for his dissertation. Reports tell us that the faculty involved were unsure whether or not Lewis was alive; as they didn't want to admit this, they approved the dissertation plan. > David Melnick had the same problem at Berkeley studying Zukofsky in the early 1970s, so proposed instead to do a dissertation on 20th Century poets interpretations of Shakespeare, wrote the Zukofsky chapter, then dropped out of school. Ron Silliman rsillima@ix.netcom.com ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 17:29:04 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: Poets, Nations, George Bowering wrote: > >An aside to Ron's mentioning of poets who write in languages of fewer >than 100 million people. It gets more difficult: think of Hungarian >writers and Finnish writers. But there is another problem too, for >writers who write in French in Quebec or Tahiti, or writers who write >in English in Canada or new Zealand. In Canada the few readers there >are are likely to be reading US writers rather than Canadian ones >because of the US imperialist control of Canadian distribution. >Concerning your question, Ron, about Califormia being a national >literature. What if it were all in Spanish? > It would sound better. But the Miwok poets would be pissed. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 20:44:29 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Re: Grolier snailmail In-Reply-To: The Grolier Bookshop 2 Plympton Street Cambridge, MA 02138 1-800-234-POEM ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 22:03:06 CDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: your american cousin/distribution I must say that I don't know if they like doing mail order business or not, but Woodland Pattern Book Center is far better than Grolier for poetry, and, I believe, particularly for poetry which people on this list might want to find. This is not to knock Grolier, and I know if I was in Cambridge I would go there and buy some books, but what they carry is, I believe, more limited in terms of the interests of this list than Woodland Pattern, or Talking Leaves in Buffalo, or, certainly, the bookstore at Small Press Distribution in Berkeley (& they most certainly do mail order business). Woodland Pattern's address is P.O. Box 92081 Milwaukee, WI 53202 Telephone 414-263-5001 Small Press Distribution's address is 1814 San Pablo Ave. Berkeley, CA 94702 Telephone 510-549-3336 I don't have an address at hand for Talking Leaves in Buffalo. I know the discussion of bookstores and how poorly or well they serve poetry has come around and gone around on this list before, so I apologize if these comments seem repetitive. charles alexander [===========^^============] [ <> ] chax press [ losing <> wants ] [ a letter <> it all ] phone & fax: 612-721-6063 [ means <> over ] [ ink <> again ] e-mail: mcba@maroon.tc.umn.edu [ <> ] [===========vv============] ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 22:17:02 CDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: your american cousin/distribution Thank you, Carolyn, for pointing out the need for change in the tax laws on warehousing books. Also thank you for your support of various presses on the NEA panel. Even from across the room year before last (where I sat on the magazine panel), your support of presses publishing innovative poetries was obvious & welcome. One other sad note on distribution. Inland Books, which hasn't perhaps been primarily a literary distributor, but which has over the years distributed books for a number of presses (including Chax, although not many books and the payment record was strange) is, according to a recent report I heard, going into bankruptcy. I have also heard of another distributor of which I do not know the name, but which is the primary distributor for New Rivers Press here in Minneapolis, going through bankruptcy. While bankruptcy doesn't necessarily mean they will cease to exist, it is nonetheless disturbing and makes the situation of independent publishing in this country even more tenuous. Thank the stars (as well as many real people) for Small Press Distribution. Long may it wave books. charles charles alexander [===========^^============] [ <> ] chax press [ losing <> wants ] [ a letter <> it all ] phone & fax: 612-721-6063 [ means <> over ] [ ink <> again ] e-mail: mcba@maroon.tc.umn.edu [ <> ] [===========vv============] ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 22:16:15 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jeffrey Timmons Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow In-Reply-To: <9509071442.AA02144@notesgate> On Thu, 7 Sep 1995, Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco wrote: >I've kept at poetry > despite all the professors I've had, and altho some were very good, very few > could make a viable connection between the poetry and the students. Usually > the points were made between the poetry and the poet; the relevance of the > poetry to the student being a matter of little significance. Perhaps; but responsibility for the students to create their relevance falls on their shoulders just as much as on the prof's--as your comments about your own relation to poetry suggest. Jeffrey Timmons ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 11:12:19 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: cousin cousine Re US books available in the UK. This is a personal feel and others here might well have a different take. In Compendium, for longest the most consistantly useful bookshop for small press poetry in London and the UK. (interestingly in the mid 1970s Compendium had 3 shops in close proximity, one of which had an upstairs dedicated, as I remember it, almost entirely to poetry little presses and poetry magazines - not there is just one shop and poetry occupies one range of shelving about 2 metres long and 10 feet high) There's a presence of books published by Sun and Moon, Black Sparrow, Station Hill, Burning Deck, Potes and Poets, Roof, Coffee House and a smattering of magazines (assorted copies of Sulfur, Poetics Journal, Talisman). Inadequate and frustrating, but something. love and love cris ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 03:47:20 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: your Finnish-american cousin Tony Green asks, >Aldon, isn't this difficulty of transatlantic interconnection >largely due to book-sellers agreements on trading. American >publications are pretty well invisible in Britain aren't they? > > But I recall Anselm Hollo some years back talking about his period in London working for the BBC in the 1950s (I believe it was), that one could get ANY American small press book in the UK then without great difficulty and that that, more than anything else, was what had changed the scene and then itself changed over the course of his life. Of course, much of what made that possible was the paucity of small press titles during that era. Ron Silliman ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 07:03:39 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: your Finnish-american cousin In-Reply-To: <199509081047.DAA07280@ix8.ix.netcom.com> from "Ron Silliman" at Sep 8, 95 03:47:20 am > > Tony Green asks, > >Aldon, isn't this difficulty of transatlantic interconnection > >largely due to book-sellers agreements on trading. American > >publications are pretty well invisible in Britain aren't they? > > > > > But I recall Anselm Hollo some years back talking about his period in > London working for the BBC in the 1950s (I believe it was), that one > could get ANY American small press book in the UK then without great > difficulty and that that, more than anything else, was what had changed > the scene and then itself changed over the course of his life. Of > course, much of what made that possible was the paucity of small press > titles during that era. > > Ron Silliman > True Ron, & it was even more so a few years later -- when I moved from NYC to London in 1970, the poetry section in Compendium Books, run by Nick Kimberley, was better than any poetry section in any New York bookshop at that time. (There was also Better Books where many poets worked). But by the middle seventies, with Nick losing inetrest (reggae got him) & the energy in the shop going towards radical gay/lesbian politics, the poetry section withered away. I've always wondered about the confluence of a wider public interest in (buying) poetry & the presence of those one or two competent individuals making the books available. ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 13:12:47 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: R I Caddel Subject: distribution / boredom In-Reply-To: <199509080750.IAA21326@tucana.dur.ac.uk> "Poetry is for interested people" - Zukofsky Plainly, if your aim is to reach large numbers of people, contemporary poetry, which is widely recognised as "difficult", isn't the vehicle you should select. Likewise, if you want a course that's going to be easy to relate to and not give you any problems, you should give the modern poetry option a miss. In fact, most courses will present such difficulties, since the idea is usually to present something you don't know about. People don't publish in "small presses" simply because they can't be in "big presses", and as writer and publisher I've no real interest in increasing circulation to "big press" dimensions (a Pig print run is c.500; an OUP current poetry print run is c 1700 - so statistically similar against a UK population of over 58 million as to be not worth arguing about). But I started publishing because I didn't see the books I wanted to read, and was concerned from the first to reach others in the same situation. I'm still working on it. Early interest from the US (based on two or three shops and half a dozen people) suggested to me that there at least was a vast continent of articulate and enthusiastic readers of new poetry: I'm beginning to suspect that this is not the case... So, one deals in twos and threes. Because much of the material IS problematical in some way, it doesn't do to compromise over something like production: in the UK we have a supposed "small press distribution" organisation called Password, which I dropped out of some years back when they started to tell me what shape and size and format the booksellers wanted "my" books to be, and even what sort of covers to put on them. Usually the suggestions related to increased standardisation for ease of handling. Now: I design books in order to present texts to readers - the booksellers can either help in this process, or get out of the way and sell pulp. Most choose the latter, and that's fine by me. Interesting to hear the situation in the Czech republic and Hungary, how closely it matches Poland and Estonia (Estonia has an Estonian-speaking population of a million, and at the start of the decade they could sell a whole edition of new poetry - 50,000 copies - in a day). Poets in both those countries are now involved in short-run publishing, very much as Chris Cheek describes it. And very exciting it is too. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 14:27:30 BST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "I.LIGHTMAN" Subject: uk poetry and compendium books It's worth saying, as an addition to Cris Cheek's useful summary, that one of the most frustrating things about Compendium's poetry shelves in the 90s is near zero recognition of the huge renaissance of avant-garde writing by female American writers since the 80s; no Harryman at all, no Dahlen, some Hejinian and Howe, no Day, no Darragh, no Bellamy, no Ward, no Marlatt. There's none of the interesting younger American poets, under thirty, say. And there's very few gay American writers from the 80s, no Steve Benson's Blue Book, for example. In other words, very little avant- garde writing that, as tended to happen interestingly in avant-garde writing in the 80s, that wears feminist or queer politics *explicitly* (eg the author both reads linguistically difficult writing and proudly declares membership of the women's movement or the gay rights movement). Since a lot of the younger Americans who I read take it now as granted that you can do this, be avant-garde and declare membership of these movements, so that they don't always have to, it's no surprise to me that their work doesn't get stocked at Compendium either; the initial shocktroops never got sent in. Ira Lightman ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 10:16:09 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: UK Resources etc In-Reply-To: from "R I Caddel" at Sep 6, 95 01:33:58 pm Ric writes & asks: > One hopes that one day Bruccoli-Clark will do a follow-up volume. But > spare a thought for those wandering souls who fail the country-of-origin > test of these strictly controlled formats: for instance, where would Pierre > Joris appear? Answers on a postcard... (Pierre: would you like to say > what volume you'd like to appear in, and who you'd choose for company?) Well, Ric, it's a funny ole question: there is a level at which I don't care (& even relish not being included in anything based on notions of belonging defined by the nation-state, that monstruous euro-creation).There is, however, a deeper level at which I obviously would like the work to be, if not "included," then made visible --& in that do feel a nomadic "belonging" to any of the various geographical places I have spent time in. The company is vast & changing -- that is the great pleasure of the nomadic -- impossible to define once & for all. In a way, the anthologies that Jerry Rothenberg & I have put together (Vol I out later this month) are my/our company: there's a couple hundred plus writers from all over the world in those books -- looks like home to me! Pierre ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 10:30:23 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <950906.172731.CDT.ENPAPE@LSUVM.SNCC.LSU.EDU> from "eric pape" at Sep 6, 95 05:23:12 pm Eric, thanks for the info -- was however unable to locate "Body" on the LSU campus gopher. any advice? pierre> > Pierre:I think Jeff Humphries is working on a translation of > _A Field of Islands_, but I don't know when and if it is coming out. > I know you can read an excerpt (those of you who are EnglishOnly) on > the LSU campus gopher under Body_L: literature electric and new. > Great stuff, incidentally. > Thanks, Eric. > ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 08:17:50 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> > > > > > (inspection >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, >> > > > > > kook!" >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco >> > > > > > warehouse, curls >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the >> > > > > > dry cleaners >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on >> > > > > > prescience >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose >> > > > > > encore >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for >> > > > > > moments to be >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams >> > > > > > were hooks. >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of >> > > > > > darkness >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft >> > > > > > fruit >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 08:22:00 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Marjorie Perloff Subject: Re: Distribution of British poetry In-Reply-To: <199509080750.AAA28013@leland.Stanford.EDU> This is indeed a terrific problem, partly because the Brit establishment (in TLS, LRB, etc) is even more entrenched and narrowly focused than ours (and that's saying a lot!) and so it's hard for "alternate" poetries to break through. But I actually think it's gotten better the last few years, what with Peter Gizzi's EXACT CHANGE YEARBOOK with that great Anglo-Irish portfolio ed. Tom Raworth, Prynne's Chinese portfolio, and chapbook and so on. I think something can be done: namely, poets in the U.K. should routinely send a copy of their chapbooks, little mags, etc. to U.S. journals like SULFUR, CONJUNCTIONS, DENVER QUARTERLY, LINGO, TO, TALISMAN, CENTRAL PARK etc. Anthologists should consider seriously opening up the field and being sure to include U.K., Australian, NZ, and other poetries in English rather than the endless mononationalism we now endorse. Look at those titles: AMERICAN POETRY REVIEW, NEW AMERICAN WRITING, AMERICAN BOOK REVIEWetc. And rather than ghettoizing U.K. poetry in a course called "Contemporary British Poetry" we should be sure the contemp poetry courses themselves are multinational. Marjorie Perloff ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 08:55:43 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Herb Levy Subject: Wilson Harris > >Um - who's Wilson Harris? Wilson Harris is a writer born in British Guyana who's written many novels, including the Guyana Quartet (Palace of the Peacock, The Far Journey of Oudin, The Whole Armour, & The Secret Ladder) & the Carnival Trilogy (Carnival, The Infinite Rehearsal, & The Four Banks of the River of Space) both published by Faber & Faber & relatively available in the US. Harris has some poetry that I haven't read and a good book of criticism/theory. There are several books about him and a chapter or two in Nate Mackey's Oxford Press book of essays. There's also a big feature on Harris in issue #6 of Mackey's mag Hambone. It's been a while since I read any of the work. Sorry I can't be of more help. Herb Levy herb@eskimo.com ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 13:15:26 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Fred Muratori Subject: Persian Gulf Poetry I hope some of you might be able to assist me with a question. I'm working with a graduate student here who is planning a thesis on Persian Gulf War poetry. The twist, however, is that he's interested only in poems written about the War by participants and witnesses, not those penned stateside during or after the fact by those with no eyewitness perspective on the conflict (i.e., recent work by William Heyen or Denise Levertov would not do). We've identified a number of books and broadsides that may or may not be relevant, since in most cases it's impossible to determine from an online record whether or not a given author was actually in the Middle East. So, if you've run across a relevant poem in a journal or anthology whose author was identified as being a PG vet, or if you have personal knowledge of a poet who was there, please let me know privately at fmm1@cornell.edu. The student is himself a Gulf War vet. Many thanks. *********************** Fred Muratori "Certain themes are incurable." (fmm1@cornell.edu) - Lyn Hejinian Reference Services Division Olin * Kroch * Uris Libraries Cornell University Ithaca, NY 14853 *********************** ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 10:29:39 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: Talkshows, wheelbarrows & British verse In-Reply-To: <199509080746.AAA13881@sparta.SJSU.EDU> so much + wheelbarrow + chickens = codependency? It's been a long time indeed since anyone advanced to me seriously the argument that publishers and distributers respond to "interest" levels -- at least in the context of literature (ass opposed to instant books about Randy Weaver or advice on how to lose weight by reading romance novels) -- Many of us, for example, have been trying to get an American edition of C.L.R. James's _Minty Alley_, or even U.S. distribution of same for teaching in college courses -- no go -- I could go on with other examples of demonstrable "interest" -- but you see the point -- Was there really that much more interest stateside in the poetry of Paul Mulddon (who I _am_ interested in) than any of the other poets of Ireland & England mentioned here of late? Interest, as you see whenever you pay your credit card bills, is created as often as it is catered to -- ah humanity-- ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 10:41:30 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: did I do that? In-Reply-To: <199509080746.AAA13881@sparta.SJSU.EDU> My deepest apologies to everybody, especially to those digest readers -- It appears that in the process of printing up a copy of the digest so that I could hang on to an address, I did something that sent the entire digest back to the entire list -- mea culpa -- please forgive -- his fuckupness, aldon nielsen ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 10:49:12 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: Who is Wilson Harris? In-Reply-To: <199509080746.AAA13881@sparta.SJSU.EDU> Harris may not have been the best example for me to use on this list, since he hasn't published much poetry since his first book. but-- Wilson Harris is a prolific and poetic novelist from Guyana -- C.L.R. James once called him "the strangest of living novelists," but James hadn't read Harry Matthes at the time! Best starting point might be the _Guyana Quartet_, a gathering of his early books available from Faber & Faber. His books were difficult to get in the U.S. till about 10 years ago, at which point his Faber volumes suddenly began to appear in US bookstores -- Recent issue of _Callaloo_ has a special Harris section ably edited by Nate Mackey -- also good chapters on Harris's work in Mackey's book _Discrepant Engagement_ _Palace of the Peacock_ is one of the greatest novels I've ever read! ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 14:29:08 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: <199509081517.IAA23397@bob.indirect.com> On Fri, 8 Sep 1995, Sheila E. Murphy wrote: > >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's > >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> > > > > > (inspection > >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > >> > > > > > kook!" > >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > >> > > > > > dry cleaners > >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > >> > > > > > prescience > >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > >> > > > > > encore > >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > >> > > > > > moments to be > >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > >> > > > > > were hooks. > >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > >> > > > > > darkness > >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > >> > > > > > fruit > >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 13:32:35 CDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: eric pape Subject: Re: Jabes In-Reply-To: <199509081430.KAA16183@loki.hum.albany.edu> Pierre: Not sure this will help, but I can tell you what happens on my machine. After hooking up to gopher.lsu.edu, or using one of the various menu systems to get there, you should see a list of options ranging from Libraries, Student Life etc. One of them should be LSU-BR Campus. Select that and you should get another menu, on which "Body Electric" should appear. After that it's a fairly simple matter of following the prompts. But of course I am directly wired up to LSU's system and it is possibly a lot easier for me to hook up then you. Good luck. Thanks, Eric. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 15:58:25 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Pierre Joris Subject: Re: Distribution of British poetry In-Reply-To: from "Marjorie Perloff" at Sep 8, 95 08:22:00 am Exactly right, Marjorie! _Pour la petite histoire_ re the Brit establishment, when Paul Buck & I did an anthology of the New British poetry in the very early eighties, the only place we could publish it was -- as a bi-lingual book -- in France. I sent the book to a range of Brit publishers, suggesting an all-English edition -- most of them didn't even bother to answer. It was roughly at the same time that I was fired drom the _New Statesman_ as poetry reviewer for having suggested to write a negative review of Dannie Absie's Collected Dreck. ======================================================================= Pierre Joris | "Poems are sketches for existence." Dept. of English | --Paul Celan SUNY Albany | Albany NY 12222 | "Revisionist plots tel&fax:(518) 426 0433 | are everywhere and our pronouns haven't yet email: | drawn up plans for the first coup." joris@cnsunix.albany.edu| --J.H. Prynne ======================================================================= ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 16:25:01 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: UK Resources etc In-Reply-To: <199509081416.KAA16162@loki.hum.albany.edu> from "Pierre Joris" at Sep 8, 95 10:16:09 am Robin Blaser runs into something like Pierre's situation. In Canada he has not been in many anthologies (he's been in mine and Ondaatje's and Thesen's) because he used to be a USAmerican. In the States he doesnt make the anthologies like Hoover's because he is a canadian citizen. Of course some other people didnt get into Hoover's anthology, such as Lew Welch and Joel Oppenheimer! Then there's Anselm. British or USAmerican? Well, I think he must be a Finn, because when I mentioned his name to a bus tour director in Helsinki, she rolled her eyes and said "Oh THAT one!" ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 16:37:44 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: magic names In-Reply-To: <89697.mcba@maroon.tc.umn.edu> from "Charles Alexander" at Sep 7, 95 10:17:02 pm Anyone interested in anagrams of names? Here's a few for this list: Ron Silliman: Marlin Loins Maria Damon: Inroad Mama Charles Alexander: Relaxed Renal Scar Kevin Killian: Evil Kink Nail Rae Armantrout: Arena Mutt Roar Charles Bernstein: Cerebral Thinness (wch goes to show that there's nothing to anagrams, eh?) ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 17:00:05 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Shaunanne Tangney Subject: Re: Talkshows, wheelbarrows & British verse In-Reply-To: On Fri, 8 Sep 1995, Aldon L. Nielsen wrote: > so much + wheelbarrow + chickens = codependency? > > It's been a long time indeed since anyone advanced to me seriously the > argument that publishers and distributers respond to "interest" levels -- > at least in the context of literature (ass opposed to instant books about > Randy Weaver or advice on how to lose weight by reading romance novels) -- ok--i nominate this for typo of the week!! ;) shaunanne ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 20:01:39 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Smith Subject: Re: Wilson Harris "Um - who's Wilson Harris?" I'm new to the list, but I can take a crack @ this one. Harris is a novelist from Guyana, pub'd by faber & faber. Many, like myself, were probably made aware of his work by Nate Mackey who frequently publishes him in HAMBONE. The Fall '86 issue (#6) has a special section featuring a lecture & a Q&A seminar w/ UCSC faculty & students, as well as some critical pieces. Mackey's DISCREPANT ENGAGEMENT has 3 essays as well. THE ANGEL AT THE GATE is as good a place as any to start reading. (Someone searching for precedent to NM's dense prose syntax & philosophical/lyrical mix wd do well to look at WH. They're very different, but there was a 'shock of recognition' when I first read Harris.) enjoy, Charles Smith ---------------------- "Music and numbers were (one sees it now) a revelation of a fluid skeleton, a ribbed body, to be associated with the flesh of the elements, the smooth flesh of water, the spark and the animal magnetism within the anatomy and the blood of ancient streams upon which many cultures had survived and above which they buried their dead in mounds and hills. Our antecedents from all races and peoples glimpsed that skeleton as they wrestled with floods and droughts, plenty and scaricity, from times immemorial, antecedents we also glimpse in the nightsky of the ancient river through the seed of moral legend, moral theatre that they sowed, primitive constellation and metamorphoses of the voice of the flute . . . Primitive antecedent. Intimate refugee." --WH, THE FOUR BANKS OF THE RIVER OF SPACE (1990), p. 47 ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 17:19:11 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: Grolier snailmail simply thanks Carolyn love and love cris ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 22:50:21 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Loss Glazier Subject: Re: Grolier snailmail In-Reply-To: <9509081710.aa05185@post.demon.co.uk> from "cris cheek" at Sep 8, 95 05:19:11 pm I've placed a short list (with addresses and phone numbers) of poetry-kind bookstores in the EPC under "small press"--then you'll see a link to "bookstores"... LPG ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 22:07:52 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Stephen Galen Cope Subject: Re: Wilson Harris I believe it was Caliban recently devoted an issue to Harris' work. Saw it in NY (St. Marks), and think Mackey's actually the guest editor... -Stephen Cope ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 23:07:22 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write >On Fri, 8 Sep 1995, Sheila E. Murphy wrote: > >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >> > > > > > (inspection >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, >> >> > > > > > kook!" >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on >> >> > > > > > prescience >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose >> >> > > > > > encore >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for >> >> > > > > > moments to be >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams >> >> > > > > > were hooks. >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of >> >> > > > > > darkness >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft >> >> > > > > > fruit >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 03:08:06 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Smith Subject: Re: magic names Sorry folks, I can't resist: George Bowering: beer growing ego ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 03:40:39 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: magic names Charles Smith wrote: >Sorry folks, I can't resist: >George Bowering: beer growing ego then of course there's George Bowering: groin going boo tho of course these anagrams aren't as, shall we say, "pure," as those first posted. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 01:32:48 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: more magic names In-Reply-To: <199509090250.WAA05784@orichalc.acsu.buffalo.edu> from "Loss Glazier" at Sep 8, 95 10:50:21 pm Eric Pape: Epic Pear (well, what else can ya do with such a short name?) Aldon N. Nielson: Laden Neon Sill Marjorie Perloff: Firmer Floor Jape Sheila Murphy: Airy Hemp Lush I. Lightman: Thing Mail (well, they cant ALL be zingers) ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 06:31:48 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ken Edwards <100344.2546@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: Wilson Harris, UK poetry & more Thanks to everyone who enlightened me on Wilson Harris. My question was semi-flippant, out of puzzlement, but he seems pretty interesting from the descriptions and I shall seek out his novels at any rate. Thanks too to Marjorie for her helpful comments about distribution of poetries in English, and suggestions for journals to send review copies to - I shall follow this up on behalf of Reality Street Editions. NB I have addresses for most of the journals on that list, but not for DENVER QUARTERLY, LINGO or TO. Anyone help? And if you know of any other journals that would (sympathetically I hope!) review the products of a UK small press.... I remember the Compendium small-press section of the 1970s very well - virtually the space of a whole shop devoted to small press material. I don't think its demise can be attributed solely to Nick Kimberley's moving on (he's shifted from reggae to opera & classical music by the way, now writes articles about it in the Sunday papers - I saw him recently at a concert and had a good chat with him). Since the 70s the accountants have moved into the book trade in a big way and now the game is all about brand recognition, profit margins and turning product over as quickly as possible. I first recognised the change when I went into Dillon's opposite London University Senate House one day in the 80s with the latest issue of Reality Studios, which they'd always taken before. The lady at the desk glanced at it wearily, said: "I really don't think I can be bothered with this any more" and handed it back. Ira, you should talk to Mike Hart, who's one of the people running Compendium these days, and persuade him to stock some of the authors you mention. I've always found him very helpful. Ken Edwards ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 14:21:43 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: desire / and the 39 steps Comments: To: EFOSTER@vaxa.stevens-tech.edu become an exclamation, as fury of grieving confusions raised from parting lips towards light grounded. became short hand for joy. the lathered syntax of versical sex. riding fringes saddle sore from pine damaged heritage. tense - oblivions of surface language. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 14:21:48 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: desire / and the 39 steps Comments: To: EFOSTER@vaxc.stevens-tech.edu hoot succoured from carnival bulling the sad to sleep. has being and put upon being. late falling light. its mercury wreath a dark promise to sky. a whipped bay tree looking-to deep in the surface of things its necessity. ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 08:57:20 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" Organization: University of NC at Greensboro Subject: Red Wheelbarrow The thing about Williams was that he succeeded as no other poet has in doing things that were completely fresh and unexpected. This cost him readers for most of his life. If you go back to early issues of those English magazines published around 1910 you find many of his poems published along with Pound's, along with portions of Joyce's Portrait, Amy Lowell, Ford Madox Ford, etc.--and Eliot. Then he couldn't bring himself to climb aboard the High Modernist bandwagon and his reputation languished for more than twenty-five years. Funny thing how it was Yvor Wnters in the 1920s who wrote the most admiring and appreciative comments on Williams--though in later years they made remarks about each other that were kind of like what generals say about each other years after a war. I do hope that I did not offend anyone by being unable to be bored with Williams. He does tire me out with his variety sometimes, especially in Paterson--but that is a case of, as a little girl once said after three hours of Barnum and Bailey, "Too much circus." Tom Kirby-Smith English Department UNC-Greensboro Greensboro NC 27412 ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 10:42:38 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Lindz Williamson Subject: thanks In-Reply-To: <950901164947_89143466@mail04.mail.aol.com> I got cut off from the net, UBC is not very giving when it comes to going over your account limit. Anyways, I can't remember if I thanked Jordan for giving me Todd Colby's address. So thanks if you were not previously thanked, or thank you again. Also I didn't read the 178 messages in my mailbox, just kept on pushing D, so I'll be lurking for awhile until I figure out what's going on. But I'm back for now, but I don't know how long. I'm not sure when my account runs out for good. I think it's december, but I'm not sure. So if I'm suddenly gone, it's not because I want to be. Lindz ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 13:08:37 +0200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "W. Northcutt" Subject: Red Wheelbarrow and that Damned Chicken Re Williams...Isn't part of the point of Williams's poety to be "boring"? I mean, somedays I've had enough of bloody swords and crimson ground in Pound's "Sestina Altaforte" and I'm quite happy to read a bit of Williams dancing naked around his house.But seriously, "boring" seems to be an easy word to throw around, although, after teaching Williams to hoards of skeptic undergraduates, it also seems to be a legitimate word to use. I would, however, like some elaboration about the way y'all mean it. William Northcutt ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 09:53:34 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: place, so to speak Clogging up the poetics list with housekeeping, I know, but please note: Charles Alexander & Chax Press may now be reached for e-mail only at the address chax@mtn.org The old address is no longer valid. Otherwise, phone number & fax number & p.o. box & street address remain the same, at least for now. all best wishes, charles alexander Charles Alexander Chax Press P.O. Box 19178 Minneapolis, MN 55419-0178 612-721-6063 chax@mtn.org ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 16:19:58 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Bernstein Organization: University at Buffalo Subject: agency (2) Oops! I didn't mean to send this message to the whole list! - ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 11:49:12 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: magic name In-Reply-To: <950909030805_94990072@emout04.mail.aol.com> Ch. smears `lith' On Sat, 9 Sep 1995, Charles Smith wrote: > Sorry folks, I can't resist: > > George Bowering: beer growing ego > ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 11:29:01 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: <199509090607.XAA11499@bob.indirect.com> Sheila E. Murphy a.k.a Sheila E. Murphy wrought > >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's > >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> >> > > > > > (inspection > >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > >> >> > > > > > kook!" > >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > >> >> > > > > > prescience > >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > >> >> > > > > > encore > >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > >> >> > > > > > moments to be > >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > >> >> > > > > > darkness > >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > >> >> > > > > > fruit > >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go > ahead > >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver > > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes > meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 15:59:48 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: magic names In-Reply-To: <950909030805_94990072@emout04.mail.aol.com> from "Charles Smith" at Sep 9, 95 03:08:06 am I knew there was a reason he wouldn't tell me his. I'm Yanking Thorn, apparently. > > Sorry folks, I can't resist: > > George Bowering: beer growing ego > ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 19:16:19 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Burt Kimmelman -@NJIT" Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow I'm sorry that I feel compelled to come out into the light from the dark serenity of that shadowy world where, I presume, so many lurk (too dark to know for sure), but anyway this debate about Williams being boring is to me, frankly, utterly astonishing (Ed Foster: You were kidding about WCW being boring, right? Or was it Jordan?) and, if it is to be taken seriously, quite ironic (it is all too uncomfortably similar to an article in the New Criterion by Bruce Bawer, that retrograde neanderthal who thinks nothing good has been written--he says in the piece--since Jeffers, and who can't see in Williams anything but triteness and who attack's Marjorie Perloff's work on him [correction: attacks]; in other words, Bawer doesn't get it). Williams to me is coming to be the most important poet, in the US at least, in the century. He has influenced (forgive me if I am beginning to sound a bit trite and platitudinous myself--but apparently he needs defending) poetry so deeply and widely that I guess we are taking him for granted or simply not seeing what is there, like the air we breathe. He is solid like the comforting thingliness of his imagery and his music is subtle and wonderfully unadorned though precise. To me he has never and I dare say will never be boring. And as I get older he is ever more wise and heartbreaking, and a cherished friend. Burt Kimmelman ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 18:29:43 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write Jorge wrote: >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >s >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizin >g >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho >, >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at t >he >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on >> >> >> > > > > > prescience >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chos >e >> >> >> > > > > > encore >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of >> >> >> > > > > > darkness >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently so >ft >> >> >> > > > > > fruit >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go >> ahead >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 22:28:12 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write >Sheila E. Murphy a.k.a Sheila E. Murphy wrought > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >s >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizin >g >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho >, >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at t >he >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on >> >> >> > > > > > prescience >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chos >e >> >> >> > > > > > encore >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of >> >> >> > > > > > darkness >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently so >ft >> >> >> > > > > > fruit >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go >> ahead >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for renku went to sleep, foul poets made it shun the public light, again Charles Alexander Chax Press P.O. Box 19178 Minneapolis, MN 55419-0178 612-721-6063 chax@mtn.org ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 22:59:33 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: no way it's renga, forgive In the lightning morning inverted cardinal oboe on grass under obtuse Prussian windows to what bondage, more than aware, pebbling Sunday Times air amusing the compassed wind kissing beasts she snacks of water's incision (how credenza was meant) sequentially it wasn't general, oh,ho Tootin' Through no ideas but unsalted and i've lusted a cello day throughout eternity creams and striated leftover in pastel counterirritant juxtaposed with soft fruit violent transformation switchback and angles to be aging in trio or is not over thigh across known skin hurts, projective instead of straining cockpit the idiom solvently unequal quantum pump why afternoons to that moon canoe up in the dinner so lay me in up in radiance for later use in each narrative engine here and there hinges come in on lace in house of partners touch my token sauce in the & can some snowy lovely and elude shakes in our harmony end till ourselves where the temporality for onslaughts of hidden slip in sudden, might alter ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 22:53:32 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: from "Jorge Guitart" at Sep 9, 95 11:29:01 am > > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > s > > >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > >> >> > > > > > (inspection > > >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizin > g > > >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > > >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > >> >> > > > > > untwisted, roundaboutness put aside > > >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho > , > > >> >> > > > > > kook!" > > >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > > >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > > >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the tQ/=myexture so to speak was at t > > >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > > >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > >> >> > > > > > prescience > > >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chos > e > > >> >> > > > > > encore > > >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > > >> >> > > > > > moments to be > > >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > > >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > > >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > > >> >> > > > > > darkness > > >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > > >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently so > ft > > >> >> > > > > > fruit > > >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > > >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go > > ahead > > >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > >> >> > > > > > inseams, a tomtom as solvently unequal-- the power > > >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver > > > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes > > meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > > sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for > > > heaven tries its damnedest to get on late night talk shows ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 9 Sep 1995 23:23:49 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write g e G u i t a r t < M L L J O R G E @ U B V M S ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 10:47:19 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" Organization: University of NC at Greensboro Subject: permission I would like to ask permission to include a section, or version, or segment, --maybe it should be called a cutting or a slice or few verterbrae or a half-pound-- of the renga in a book the title of which is BEYOND FREE VERSE. At first I just wrote it up as below because it seemed to me that it was like asking permission to print a picture of a snake dance. But then I thought maybe it would be best to allow anyone who wants to claim credit for any of it to do so. Is this OK? Here is my present text. I am afraid that I do not wish for suggestions as to taking some other half-pound of it--I liked this hunk pretty well. But please let me know if what I say about it seems unfair. I realize that to some people this will be sloppy scholarship, but I never did get a Ph.D. Also, the format is not right in this message, but that's just my mail server's way of doing things. ************************************************* In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicka my best friend and the storm in the glass of water's halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, kook!" Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams were hooks. All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so shimmy toward the portabello traction This poem grew into existence during July and August of 1995, and at the present writing shows no sign of ceasing to grow and evolve. It appeared in ever-increasing increments, sometimes branching off into variant forms, on the Poetics List owned by Charles Bernstein and serviced by the SUNY Buffalo Listserver. It was supposed to be a "renga," a Japanese form in which two or three poets spend an hour or two adding to or capping each other's lines, making an interconnected series of tankas. The complete rules for the renga are too complex to present here and are in any case irrelevant, since (at least as far as I can tell) this is a pretty free-form renga. I have not attempted to go back and credit all the individual poets with their lines, and I cannot remember and do not wish to research this complicated subject. To do so completely would produce something like a volume of the variorum Shakespeare. I think that Ron Silliman had a hand in it early on, and that Sheila E. Murphy may have contributed the last line or two, at least. I regret that none of it is mine, and that I cannot pin down any further whose lines are whose. At that time there were some 245 members of the list, and perhaps fifty active participants. Perhaps Marjorie Perloff, a list member, can find a graduate student who could use this renga for a dissertation and straighten all this out. Tom Kirby-Smith English Department UNC-Greensboro Greensboro NC 27412 ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 11:06:16 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: <199509100129.SAA01377@bob.indirect.com> Sheila wrote: > Jorge wrote: > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine > morning > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of > water' > >s > >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection > >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > neo-colonizin > >g > >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially > several > >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, > oh,ho > >, > >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" > >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was > at t > >he > >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > >> >> >> > > > > > prescience > >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter > chos > >e > >> >> >> > > > > > encore > >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be > >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > Likewise > >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > recently so > >ft > >> >> >> > > > > > fruit > >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > considered > >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go > >> ahead > >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our > palaver > >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes > >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for > widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude > that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 12:23:09 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group Comments: RFC822 error: Invalid RFC822 field - "-". Rest of header flushed. From: Charles Bernstein Organization: University at Buffalo Subject: Agency (1) This message intentionally left blank. _ ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 13:01:13 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Loss Glazier Subject: Re: permission In-Reply-To: <11897A420B91@fagan.uncg.edu> from "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" at Sep 10, 95 10:47:19 am Grateful to Tom Kirby-Smith for putting together a version. I think it's terrific that he wants to use it in his book. At the same time, I'd like to place a copy of this version in the collaborative poem section of the EPC. So I ask Tom if it is ok to use his version (please reply to be directly: lolpoet@acsu.buffalo.edu) and to second the offer to the group in case anyone wishes to object. ------------------------------------------------------------------- > > I would like to ask permission to include a section, or version, or > segment, --maybe it should be called a cutting or a slice or few > verterbrae or a half-pound-- of the renga in a book the title of > which is BEYOND FREE VERSE. At first I just wrote it up as below > because it seemed to me that it was like asking permission to print a > picture of a snake dance. > > But then I thought maybe it would be best to allow anyone who wants > to claim credit for any of it to do so. > > Is this OK? > > Here is my present text. I am afraid that I do not wish for > suggestions as to taking some other half-pound of it--I liked this > hunk pretty well. But please let me know if what I say about it seems > unfair. I realize that to some people this will be sloppy > scholarship, but I never did get a Ph.D. > > Also, the format is not right in this message, but that's just my > mail server's way of doing things. > > ************************************************* > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. ... ... ... etc. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:11:07 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Keith Tuma Subject: Re: Agency (1) In-Reply-To: Message of Sun, 10 Sep 1995 12:23:09 -0400 from Ah shucks folks, I'm peering in the tent here and it doan appear that the master of ceremonies actually going to disgust agency. Adjustin his hat now. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 18:17:02 EDT Reply-To: beard@metdp1.met.co.nz Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: beard@MET.CO.NZ Subject: Re: permission Loss: >Grateful to Tom Kirby-Smith for putting together a version. I think >it's terrific that he wants to use it in his book. At the same time, >I'd like to place a copy of this version in the collaborative poem >section of the EPC. How about extracting _all_ the versions from the archives, and combining them into a hyper-renga, where the reader gets to choose which line to follow next? You'd end up with a branching structure: | / \ | /\ / \ | \ /| /\| /\ This would give a rich profusion of possible poems, and allow the reader to capture some of the interactivity that has been characteristic of this vast, mutating rengasaurus. Tom Beard. ______________________________________________________________________________ I/am a background/process, shrunk to an icon. | Tom Beard I am/a dark place. | beard@metdp1.met.co.nz I am less/than the sum of my parts... | Auckland, New Zealand I am necessary/but not sufficient, | http://metcon.met.co.nz/ and I shall teach the stars to fall | nwfc/beard/www/hallway.html ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:25:40 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Keith Tuma Subject: Re: Agency (1) In-Reply-To: Message of Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:11:07 EST from Nefarious typos bleat/bleed. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:28:44 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gwyn McVay Subject: Re: Agency (1) In-Reply-To: Keith Tuma = make it hut Carolyn Forche = clan of cherry Gwyn McVay gmcvay1@osf1.gmu.edu ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:59:48 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Joe Amato Subject: majik names... joe amato = eat a mojo ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 16:07:46 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Loss Glazier Subject: Re: permission Forwarded message: From lolpoet@acsu.buffalo.edu Sun Sep 10 15:19:06 1995 From: Loss Glazier Message-Id: <199509101918.PAA02577@destrier.acsu.buffalo.edu> Subject: Re: permission To: beard@metdp1.met.co.nz Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 15:18:55 -0400 (EDT) Cc: lolpoet@acsu.buffalo.edu (Loss Glazier) In-Reply-To: <00996332.1725D3C0.7@met.co.nz> from "beard@MET.CO.NZ" at Sep 10, 95 06:17:02 pm X-Mailer: ELM [version 2.4 PL22] MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Length: 591 Tom, > How about extracting _all_ the versions from the archives, and > combining them into a hyper-renga, where the reader gets to choose > which line to follow next? > ... > This would give a rich profusion of possible poems, and allow the reader to > capture some of the interactivity that has been characteristic of this vast, > mutating rengasaurus. Of course this is a terrific idea. Such a series of files would need to be assembled, formatted, then marked up. I'd certainly be happy to provide room for these files in the EPC if anyone were interested in preparing them... Loss ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 13:49:43 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: errata sweet In-Reply-To: <199509100358.UAA14124@sparta.SJSU.EDU> No, it _is_ _Callalloo_ for the special issue on Harris, not _Caliban_, though that would be appropriate -- Nate's book of criticism is from Cambridge, not Oxford (it would be $20.00 cheaper from Oxford, and maybe two more people could afford to but their own copies) -- Nice work, but the name is Nielsen, not Nielson -- need more e"s in that anagram -- see Perec -- Charles -- what message? what list? what whole? ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 13:54:10 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: zingers In-Reply-To: <199509100358.UAA14124@sparta.SJSU.EDU> on second look I see George's trick -- the anagram is right, it's the citation of the name that preceds it that's out of kilter! Nifty! sincerly, Nodla Nnyl Neslein (Laden to you) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 17:13:35 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Re: errata sweet In-Reply-To: Okay, Aldon, Lease no lid? --Carolyn ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:40:59 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: david ayre Subject: SPECIAL AGENCY My complaint about Charles Bernstein: It seems that before I launch into this letter, I should tell you that barbarism is the driving force behind Charles Bernstein's doctrines. It is worth noting at the outset that Bernstein's politics will leave behind a wake of rotten reaction sooner than you think. By this, I mean that to him, acting like vainglorious roommates is a lot of fun. He leaves me no choice but to leave the country. I suspect that it can be safely said that it's shocking just how haughty he can be. Only Bernstein could feel that militant artists are any better than drugged-out ruffians. What this underlines, I think, is that one could argue that he frequently progresses into displays of authority he doesn't have. His ignorant fantasy fits neatly into his detestable model of society. The world would be a much better place to live if he stopped trying to stir up trouble. In order for us to realize more happiness in our lives, we need to understand that Bernstein is devoid of all social conscience. It's my hunch that he leads me to believe that he is abusive. I want to talk about the big picture: that is no excuse for illiterate slobs. He treats inconsiderate twits as objects. It's not that I have anything against boneheads in general. It's just that Bernstein is living in a dream world. As it turns out, he seems to think that he is right and everybody else is wrong. His statements will cause more harm than good. Essentially, he can't discuss anything without talking about vigilantism. A small child really couldn't understand that anarchism is irrelevant here. But any adult can easily grasp that Bernstein's idea of a good time is to torture disdainful hippies. It may be obvious but should nonetheless be acknowledged that I got off on a tangent. Bernstein's little world is far from reality. Regardless of what Bernstein seems to maintain, his beliefs are attributable to an ignorance born of fear. So don't tell me that I'm bewildered by the abominable pretentious nature of his practices just because he thinks he can impress us by talking about "unexceptionableness this" and "phytosociological that". In theory, what he seems to be forgetting is that he is up to no good. But in reality, the use of long run-on sentences, bad metaphors, multiple misspellings, and inappropriately-placed $5 words like "reticuloendothelial" does not help his cause at all. I am not mistaken when I say that you'd think he would see how stingy and unrestrained he appears. Bernstein has the gall to think that uncouth ignoramuses aren't ever anti-democratic. Like I said, he represents a new breed of uncivilized polemics. Ok, I admit that it disturbs me that these flabby fraternity fellows have so little tolerance for differing points of view. But he is deliberately manipulating the facts. There is little doubt that he can't throw away his integrity and expect the world to respect him for it. I had a brief conversation recently with some sappy teenagers who were trying to destroy our moral fiber. That conversion convinced me that Bernstein's desire to influence the attitudes of dominant culture towards any environment or activity that is predominantly vapid is incontrovertible evidence that he harbors some foolish grudges. I feel this way because it would please Bernstein greatly to draw unsuspecting paranoiacs into the orbit of heinous perfidious fault-finders. So let me make it clear that if he is allowed to marginalize me based on my gender, race, or religion, the implications can be widespread. Should we blindly trust such uncontrollable self-deceiving porn stars? In that respect, we can say that he is trying to deflect attention from his ugly arguments. As for the lies and exaggerations, I am merely pointing out what I have observed. It is important to realize that it's a well-known fact that I don't see how Bernstein can be so crude. He gives new meaning to the word "socially inept". I'm indubitably afraid of smarmy crybabies. His pigheaded hateful attitudes are a shout to the world that, eventually, he will ruin my entire day. I'm really tired of grumpy virgins. To put it another way, I can't let Bernstein undermine the current world order. I am asking the readers of this letter to be aware that yellow-bellied jerks like him often think they have the right to foster cameralism at every opportunity, by which I mean that he has a long, commercialism-infested history of attempts to make my blood curdle. His particular brand of interventionism will abandon me on a desert island by the next full moon. These are situations where certain viewpoints are appropriate and there are situations where they are not. No matter what Bernstein thinks, Bernstein is off his rocker. If you need proof that you can see exactly where this is going, then just take a look at him. He always sounds like he's reading a prepared speech. He is obviously trying to bombard me with insults, and unless we act now, he'll certainly succeed. The only way for Bernstein to redeem himself is to stop being so filthy. I imagine that none of what he says carries any weight. I don't see why he wants to perpetuate myths that glorify sadism. A day without Bernstein would be like a day without gloomy unpatriotic fascism. His actions are not just about antidisestablishmentarianism but also about colonialism. He never seems to listen to anyone else's positions and reasoning. His conclusions represent explicitly his overly accepting attitude towards unctuous kleptomaniacs. I urge you to join me in my quest to fight disagreeable bourgeoisie. The world would be better off if Bernstein had never been born, period. To put it crudely, he is not known for interpreting facts rationally or objectively. The continuing misunderstandings that some sleazy deadheads seem to have merely underscore this point. And that, in my view, is our real problem. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:51:12 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: david ayre Subject: I'm dreadfully sorry ! Dearest recipients ! I cannot believe my most recent action ! For those of you who received my complaint letter about Charls Bernstein, (that would be the entire list wouldn't it ! Oh dear me.... how shall i... OH !), i apologize. This letter was not meant for all of you. You see i am new here and am very eager and full of vim for this Super Information Highway. It's so amazing ! All this information ! I am also a poet, like many of you, HELLO FRIENDS! I want to share with you some of my poems. Are you still interested in Rengas ? I have 54 pages of them i will post next week. So good to be here. Feels like home ! Bye ! ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 10:28:34 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: no way it's renga, forgive sorry Charles Alexander missed out the typo about the weather woman's "beasts" someone shd pass that typo on to Joan Retallack Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 10:50:07 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: your Finnish-american cousin I can add to the decline of poetry in Compendium -- going in there 1977/8 and checking out the Creeley on shelf (Marion Boyars editions mainly) and at the counter was told that Creeley had nothing to say that was interesting --- politically. Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 19:23:13 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Loss Glazier Subject: Re: I'm dreadfully sorry ! In-Reply-To: from "david ayre" at Sep 10, 95 02:51:12 pm > I want to share with you some of my poems. Are you still interested > in Rengas ? I have 54 pages of them i will post next week. David, It is probably not a good idea to post such a large document to this list. It could overload the accounts of many people... ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 18:05:23 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: I'm dreadfully sorry !Me too. In-Reply-To: from "david ayre" at Sep 10, 95 02:51:12 pm Hey, that's cool, and I have 112 renga, which I have also translated into French and Danish. I'll send them 10 at a time. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 18:09:31 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY In-Reply-To: from "david ayre" at Sep 10, 95 02:40:59 pm I'd liketo add something to the comments about Bernstein. When he was here for the Blaser fest I was just disgusted by the way he ate french fries. Agh, picked up the ketchuppy ones with his bare fingers and jammed them sideways into his mouth, while talking about USAmerican poetry. AND have you looked? He was wearing brown socks with black shoes. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 18:11:51 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: majik names... In-Reply-To: <199509101959.OAA02365@charlie.acc.iit.edu> from "Joe Amato" at Sep 10, 95 02:59:48 pm Cris Cheek: Check Sire ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 18:13:11 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Agency (1) In-Reply-To: from "Gwyn McVay" at Sep 10, 95 02:28:44 pm Charles Smith : Harmless Itch ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 18:25:00 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: from "Jorge Guitart" at Sep 10, 95 11:06:16 am > El otro Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote: > > Jorge wrote: > > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine > > morning > > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of > > water' > > >s > > >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignoranc > e > > >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection > > >> >> >> > > > > > denied for knowing how credenza was meant) &> > neo-colonizin > > >g > > >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially > > several > > >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, > > oh,ho > > >, > > >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" > > >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacc > o > > >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > > >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was > > at t > > >he > > >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > > >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > >> >> >> > > > > > prescience > > >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter > > chos > > >e > > >> >> >> > > > > > encore > > >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all through eternity for > > >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be > > >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the strea > ms > > >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > > >> >> >> > > > > > All belled like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > of > > >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > > >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > Likewise > > >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > recently so > > >ft > > >> >> >> > > > > > fruit > > >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > considered > > >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sle > ep > > >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go > > >> ahead > > >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our > > palaver > > >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes > > >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > > >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for > > widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude > > that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal > event of the first order, observed by St. Petersburg poets on horses ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 21:45:51 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ann Lauterbach Subject: Re: POETICS Digest - 8 Sep 19... This is a variation of call waiting. I can't figure out how to read the messages, I just get the headers. But I wanted to say hello to all you energetic communicators out there this cool Sunday night in New York. (Think of it as a handwritten note). Ann Lauterbach ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 20:56:32 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: no way it's renga, forgive >sorry Charles Alexander missed out the typo about the weather woman's >"beasts" someone shd pass that typo on to Joan Retallack > >Tony Green, Don't assume it was missed. Miss is mission, mess is messiah, moss is motion. Charles Alexander Chax Press P.O. Box 19178 Minneapolis, MN 55419-0178 612-721-6063 (phone & fax) chax@mtn.org ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 19:57:36 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jeffrey Timmons Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY In-Reply-To: what is with this david ayre? i didnt even read this . . . and i am not sure that i should. Jeffrey Timmons ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 22:39:00 +0000 Reply-To: jzitt@humansystems.com Sender: UB Poetics discussion group Comments: Authenticated sender is From: Joseph Zitt Organization: HumanSystems Subject: Re: permission Comments: To: Loss Glazier On 10 Sep 95 at 15:18, Loss Glazier wrote: > Of course this is a terrific idea. Such a series of files would need > to be assembled, formatted, then marked up. I'd certainly be happy to > provide room for these files in the EPC if anyone were interested in > preparing them... If someone will be willing to do the assembling, I'd be happy to do the programming to create the Web pages. I've already done some sketching for how to do this. ---------1---------1---------1---------1---------1---------1---------- |||/ Joseph Zitt ==== jzitt@humansystems.com ===== Human Systems \||| ||/ Organizer, SILENCE: The John Cage Mailing List \|| |/Joe Zitt's Home Page\| ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 22:39:23 MDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Louis Cabri In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped cream, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind condemmed. promised what she practiced as triangular blue feats soothed stunned images into form, saying a need, similar days to those not before, yet stored, whose sifted haze flushed a hick into dialogue with his own hack's ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 21:58:47 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped cream, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind condemmed. promised what she practiced as triangular blue feats soothed stunned images into form, saying a need, similar days to those not before, yet stored, whose sifted haze flushed a hick into dialogue with his own hack's >clock ticking over and forever unto the end of ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 22:50:05 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote: >> Jorge wrote: >> >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> >> >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine >> morning >> >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of >> water' >> >s >> >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignoranc >e >> >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection >> >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> neo-colonizin >> >g >> >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially >> several >> >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango >> >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, >> oh,ho >> >, >> >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" >> >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacc >o >> >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls >> >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was >> at t >> >he >> >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners >> >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on >> >> >> >> > > > > > prescience >> >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers >> >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter >> chos >> >e >> >> >> >> > > > > > encore >> >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for >> >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be >> >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the strea >ms >> >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. >> >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >of >> >> >> >> > > > > > darkness >> >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> Likewise >> >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> recently so >> >ft >> >> >> >> > > > > > fruit >> >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation >> >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback >> >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> considered >> >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised >> >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sle >ep >> >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go >> >> ahead >> >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my >> >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our >> palaver >> >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes >> >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the >> >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for >> widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude >> that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 22:52:21 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: permission PERMISSION GRANTED FROM ME (to use the renga)! Thanks for the good idea! Sheila Murphy ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 23:11:10 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY Re: Tom's request for permission, permission granted! Thanks for the idea. I can't take credit for the end, as you have mentioned. I'm somewhere in the middle of the festival (and glad to be). Sheila E. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 20:15:31 -1000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gabrielle Welford Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY In-Reply-To: <199509110109.BAA20590@fraser.sfu.ca> On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, George Bowering wrote: > I'd liketo add something to the comments about Bernstein. > > When he was here for the Blaser fest I was just disgusted by the way > he ate french fries. Agh, picked up the ketchuppy ones with his bare > fingers and jammed them sideways into his mouth, while talking about > USAmerican poetry. > > AND have you looked? He was wearing brown socks with black shoes. > I cannot believe this. I mean, like, I'm really disgusted man. Do go on.... ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 02:30:53 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY Hello David! Welcome to the list. As a sleazy deadhead of the first order & having traveled in Tibet and spoken with many lamas (not Lamas, mind you) your appearance here was prophecied unto me & we wld like to welcome you to our boring Williamsian hullabaloo & say that we agree w/ everything you said abt Charles Bernstein & are hoping he will consider stepping in for Jerry Garcia so that the transparent evilisms of post-industrial poetry & music might be more easily located when the time of destruction arrives. I don't have a watch, but I like to. This transcript is in a modified Conversation Analysis transcription method. All *uh*s and *um*s are recorded as well as cut-offs (abruptly cutting off a word in mid-utterance, indicated by a hyphen at the end of the word) and restarts (repeating or rephrasing what same speaker just said). Also, punctuation is used to indicate intonation. A comma (,) indicates a falling-into-rising tone, similar to the intonation used in counting or listing items. A period (.) indicates a falling tone, not necessarily the grammatical end of a sentence. Pauses are indicated by a period within parentheses. Longer pauses can be timed and may be indicated in tenths of seconds within parentheses -> (.2). Words in caps are stressed slightly more than others. (hhh*) indicates inhalation; (hhh) indicates exhalation; asterisks around words indicate that they are spoken at a lower volume than surrounding speech. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 00:24:08 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Kevin Killian Subject: Re: I'm dreadfully sorry ! I'm sorry, too, that our sex games got so far out of hand. Yes, I, Kevin Killian, let us whole thing go too far. I should never have pushed Dave Ayre to the very limits of pain and pleasure. It was I who force him to say mean things about the man he loves most deeply in all the world-in this case, Charles Bernstein-before I let him touch me. I got this idea out of Proust, vol 3 I believe, when the evil girl forces the musician's daughter to bring out the picture of the dead father while they make love in front of it, bringing tears to the daughter's eyes, tears of shame, tears of remorse, tears of a dark lust that neither Dave nor I can forsake for the sake of propriety or any other motive. Dave, Dave, did you have to push that send button and broadcast our FOLIE all over the known universe! There's nothing worse, as Proust always said, than an uppity bottom. Sorry, all! And how could you, Charles, have known what a Proustian part you were playing in this age old drama of revenge, suspense, and long distance love affairs? Goodbye. >So good to be here. Feels like home ! Wait til I get you home young man! > >Bye ! ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 00:43:39 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Kevin Killian Subject: A happy result of a long process I know some of you are tired of the whole renga ordeal, but this is my take on the subject. I was asked to contribute to an anthology of "erotica" (ie porn) called "Switch Hitters" (from Cleis Press) the premise being, everything else being equal, that lesbians would write gay male erotica and gay men try our hands at lesbian erotica. The editors encouraged me, saying that I, I Kevin Killian, had one advantage - because I, unlike many of the other male contributors, have actually seen a vagina. Still I was stumped for a topic, no, what would Henry James call it, a donnee! So when the renga began to appear, I found it! My story, "Renga," takes place at a writers' colony in Connecticut, the narrator is a New Formalist called Jane, whose tired old poetry has begun to bore even herself, tho it has won many prizes. A young girl comes to her bungalow every morning with her breakfast-this girl, an aspiring, perky language writer, re-invigorates Jane physically and changes her entire approach to poetics when the two collaborate on a renga together. (And much else, since the editors demand 1 sex act on every two pages.) All this on the sunny beaches of Long Island Sound and the exquisite, semi-secluded grounds of the writers' colony. When I was casting about for a name for this vibrant character, the maid, I was calling her "Karen"-don't know why! But Dodie suggested, "Lee Ann"-don't know why! Anyhow the story was finished, accepted, look for it in February, and thanks everybody for all your assistance and inspiration . . . you will all recognize your individual lines of poetry for sure. Okay-see you! ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 19:20:18 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Wystan Curnow Organization: English Dept. - Univ. of Auckland Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY Comments: To: david_ayre@MINDLINK.BC.CA Dear David, You won't catch me taking your post at face value, no siree! If I have one complaint about this list, its the extraordinary failure of its members to detect irony. Is this a function of the technology i ask myself or of the much vaunted American innocence (American innocence??*!!) Well, David, you can't fool me. Your address is MINDLINK. BC. You must be having me on. My considered opinion is that you ARE Charles Bernstein. The messge he (Bernstein) claimed to post shortly before your own was very suspicious: This Message Intentionally Left Blank. I got the allusion to the opening lines of Bruce Andrews' CONFIDENCE TRICK immediately, and thus the reference to his own list leadership. And, of course, recalled the many resonant 'blank' phrases penned by Arakawa and Gins about whom Bernstein (you) have written so eloquently. From TO NOT TO DIE for instance:'Each neighbourhood, nest of fields, acquires a momentum of its own: lets loose a forming blank: this is a blank screen as much as a blank projection.' And then The many-hinged, the cleaved During the cleaving something becomes apparent and something remains blank A group of cleaving, transferring in cleaving, an image or a blank In the sweep of cleaving, the sweep of appearance or disappearance. So, I'm sorry, this outburst of self-hatred, does not change one aorta my loyalty to you,or--and I say this knowing full well there is a stain of truth to George's cruel jabs--or lessen one smidgeon your undaunted charm. yours truly Wystan ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 12:49:42 +0200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "W. Northcutt" Subject: anagrams Sorry, this is directed off the list, and probably unfair.... Maya Angelou--Au! Lame Agony Ai--iA William Northcutt ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 07:56:26 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Re: no way it's renga, forgive In-Reply-To: <199509110156.UAA21590@freedom.mtn.org> Dear Tony, I'll pass the weather woman's beasts onto Joan, who lives down the road and has no modem but I'm trying to talk her into one... --Carolyn On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Charles Alexander wrote: > >sorry Charles Alexander missed out the typo about the weather woman's > >"beasts" someone shd pass that typo on to Joan Retallack > > > >Tony Green, > > Don't assume it was missed. Miss is mission, mess is messiah, moss is motion. > Charles Alexander > Chax Press > P.O. Box 19178 > Minneapolis, MN 55419-0178 > 612-721-6063 (phone & fax) > chax@mtn.org > ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 08:47:16 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: <199509100328.WAA04103@freedom.mtn.org> On Sat, 9 Sep 1995, Charles Alexander wrote: > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine > morning > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of > water' > >s > >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection > >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > neo-colonizin > >g > >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially > several > >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, > oh,ho > >, > >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" > >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was > at t > >he > >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > >> >> >> > > > > > prescience > >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter > chos > >e > >> >> >> > > > > > encore > >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be > >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > Likewise > >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > recently so > >ft > >> >> >> > > > > > fruit > >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > considered > >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go > >> ahead > >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our > palaver > >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes > >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for > renku went to sleep, foul poets made it shun the public light, again chax pressed from the organic mountain, again a singular howl of ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 08:57:22 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: <199509110125.BAA21621@fraser.sfu.ca> On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Jorge el Canadiense wrote: > > El otro Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote: > > > Jorge wrote: > > > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > > > >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine > > > morning > > > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > > >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of > > > water' > > > >s > > > >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignoranc > > e > > > >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection > > > >> >> >> > > > > > denied for knowing how credenza was meant) &> > neo-colonizin > > > >g > > > >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially > > > several > > > >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > > >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, > > > oh,ho > > > >, > > > >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacc > > o > > > >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > > > >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was > > > at t > > > >he > > > >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > > > >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > > > >> >> >> > > > > > prescience > > > >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > > > >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter > > > chos > > > >e > > > >> >> >> > > > > > encore > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all through eternity for > > > >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be > > > >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the strea > > ms > > > >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > > > >> >> >> > > > > > All belled like striated film leftover in the pastel > seeds > of > > > >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > > > >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > > Likewise > > > >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > > recently so > > > >ft > > > >> >> >> > > > > > fruit > > > >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > > >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > > > >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > > considered > > > >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > > >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sle > > ep > > > >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go > > > >> ahead > > > >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > > > >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > > >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > > >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > > >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our > > > palaver > > > >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes > > > >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > > > >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for > > > widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude > > > that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal > > event of the first order, observed by St. Petersburg poets on horses mounted on cardboard which i had given Park Place & two railroads for. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 09:00:29 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: your mail In-Reply-To: <9509110439.AA127570@acs5.acs.ucalgary.ca> On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Louis Cabri wrote: > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped cream, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > condemmed. > promised what she practiced as triangular blue feats soothed > stunned images into form, saying a need, similar days > to those not before, yet stored, whose sifted haze > flushed a hick into dialogue with his own hack's knowledge of parental damage, but september welcome was ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 09:06:01 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509110550.WAA28353@bob.indirect.com> Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote: > >> Jorge wrote: > >> >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > >> >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine > >> morning > >> >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of > >> water' > >> >s > >> >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for > ignoranc > >e > >> >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection > >> >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >> neo-colonizin > >> >g > >> >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially > >> several > >> >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > >> >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, > >> oh,ho > >> >, > >> >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" > Tobacc > >o > >> >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > >> >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was > >> at t > >> >he > >> >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > >> >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > >> >> >> >> > > > > > prescience > >> >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > >> >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter > >> chos > >> >e > >> >> >> >> > > > > > encore > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > >> >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be > >> >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the > strea > >ms > >> >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > >> >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > >of > >> >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > >> >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >> Likewise > >> >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >> recently so > >> >ft > >> >> >> >> > > > > > fruit > >> >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > >> >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > >> >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >> considered > >> >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > >> >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough > to sle > >ep > >> >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is > to go > >> >> ahead > >> >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far > eyes > >> >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, > touch my > >> >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red > stuff. > >> >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost > some > >> >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our > >> palaver > >> >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes > >> >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > >> >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for > >> widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude > >> that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal > slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 09:23:17 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gwyn McVay Subject: Re: your mail In-Reply-To: Susan Howe = Uh, saw nose And in the dead poets category: Isidore Ducasse = `a suicides dore's (pretend those are accents) Gwyn ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 09:34:13 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gale Nelson Subject: Re: magic names In-Reply-To: Message of Fri, 8 Sep 1995 16:37:44 -0700 from re magic names, Keith Waldrop has an entire poem, comprised of 'em. I don't own a copy of the poem (as it is magic), but I may be able to recall a few: Keith Waldrop: lad with poker John Hawkes: jaw he honks I'll ask Keith if he wouldn't mind reminding me of a few others. Gale Nelson (lean on legs) ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 14:15:17 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: R I Caddel Subject: Global Poets In-Reply-To: <199509090404.FAA02882@tucana.dur.ac.uk> Simply to endorse Pierre's placing of himself - and many more - in a transnational fellowship of poets, and Marjorie's call for the non-ghettoizing of UK (or any other) poetry. Of course, UK folks are often accurately caricatured as serials offenders in this: the irony of my editing "26 New British Poets" for "New American Writing" was not lost on my ever-ready critics. Paul told me that his transformation from Oink! to NAW was grant-application driven - having persisted with Pig Press for 23 years I can certainly appreciate that... Could I invite the RENGA PEOPLE to delete the "forwarded message" symbols (>>>) from the beginning of each line, unless they're integral to the structure? On my primitive screen the >>>'s now take up half the width, and the text is falling off on the right so that the difference between the renga and "in no way is this a renga" is - at first sight - lost. But keep it coming! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x x Richard Caddel, E-mail: R.I.Caddel @ durham.ac.uk x x Durham University Library, Phone: 0191 374 3044 x x Stockton Rd. Durham DH1 3LY Fax: 0191 374 7481 x x x x "Words! Pens are too light. Take a chisel to write." x x - Basil Bunting x x x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 11:05:13 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Steve Evans Subject: It is better to be ruined attempting the impossible Comments: cc: Neil_Lazarus@brown.edu "His work as a whole is a protest against the deadly temptation to make it easy for oneself by renouncing all happiness and all truth. It is better to be ruined attempting the impossible. The art he is preoccupied with--tightly organized, seamless, and rendered completely sensory precisely through its conscious force-- is hardly capable of realization. But it embodies a resistance to the unspeakable pressure exerted on what is human by what merely exists. It acts as a representative of what might one day be. Not to become stupid, not to be lulled to sleep, not to go along: these are the social stances sedimented in [his] work, a work which refuses to play the game of false humanness, of social complicity with the denigration of the human being." "That the division of labor cannot be banished by denying it, that the coldness of the rationalized world cannot be dispelled by recommending irrationality...is a social truth that has been demonstrated most emphatically by fascism. It is through more, not less, reason that the wounds dealt the irrational totality of humankind by the instrument that is reason can be healed." "Wittgenstein's maxim, 'Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent,' in which the extreme of positivism spills over into the gesture of reverent authoritarian authenticity, and which for that reason exerts a kind of intellectual mass suggestion, is utterly antiphilosophical. If philosophy can be defined at all, it is an effort to express things one cannot speak about, to help express the nonidentical despite the fact that it identifies it at the same time." "The soundness of a conception can be judged by whether it causes one quotation to summon another. Where thought has opened up one cell of reality, it should, without violence by the subject, penetrate the next. It proves its relation to the object as soon as other objects crystallize around it. In the light that it casts on its chosen substance, others begin to glow." "The only philosophy which can be responsibly practiced in face of despair is the attempt to contemplate all things as they would present themselves from the standpoint of redemption.... Pespectives must be fashioned that displace and estrange the world, reveal it to be, with its rifts and crevices, as indigent and distorted as it will appear one day in the messianic light.... Even its own impossiblity it must at last comprehend for the sake of the possible. But beside the demand thus placed on thought, the question of the reality or unreality of redemption itself hardly matters." "Theodor Wiesengrund was born in Frankfurt am Main on 11 Septemper 1903. (Weisengrund-Adorno was the name registered at his birth, on his mother's request, and it was the name he used as a music critic in the Weimar period. During his exile in California in 1943, his final, officially registered name became just Adorno, while Wiesengrund shrank to the initial W.)" [The first and second quotes are from "The Artist as Deputy (in NOTES ON LITERATURE vol.1); the third is from the best piece of writing on modern poetry that claims to be writing about modern philosophy, "Skoteinos, or How to Read Hegel" (HEGEL: THREE STUDIES); the fourth quote is from the section of MINIMA MORALIA called "Memento" (a meditation on writing that reviles Benjamin's "The Writer's Technique in Thirteen Theses") and the last is from the "Finale" the same book; the biographical note is from Rolf Wiggershaus's THE FRANKFURT SCHOOL.] ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 08:22:00 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: your mail >On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Louis Cabri wrote: > >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> The caravan of windows to what they flee >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> Over coffee topped with whipped cream, the Times blowing >> & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> condemmed. >> promised what she practiced as triangular blue feats soothed >> stunned images into form, saying a need, similar days >> to those not before, yet stored, whose sifted haze >> flushed a hick into dialogue with his own hack's > knowledge of parental damage, but september welcome was delinquent in its spreadsheet folly left on cruise control ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 11:23:06 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow and that Damned Chicken the way Williams is boring? as in: oh, no, not that again. going back to williams now is like going to dinner and hoping for seconds and finding it's all been eaten up. it must have been exciting to read him in 1928. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 08:24:38 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote >> Jorge wrote: >> > Sheila wrote: >> >> Jorge wrote: >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine >> >> morning >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of >> >> water' >> >> >s >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for >> ignoranc >> >e >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> >> neo-colonizin >> >> >g >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially >> >> several >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, >> >> oh,ho >> >> >, >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" >> Tobacc >> >o >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak wa >s >> >> at t >> >> >he >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > prescience >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughte >r >> >> chos >> >> >e >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > encore >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity f >or >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the >> strea >> >ms >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel see >ds >> >of >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > darkness >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> >> Likewise >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> >> recently so >> >> >ft >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > fruit >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> >> considered >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough >> to sle >> >ep >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgott >en >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is >> to go >> >> >> ahead >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far >> eyes >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >> >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> >> >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >> >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >> >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >> >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, >> touch my >> >> >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red >> stuff. >> >> >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost >> some >> >> >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and de >ep >> >> >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our >> >> palaver >> >> >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes >> >> >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the >> >> >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for >> >> widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude >> >> that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal >> slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices > but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 11:27:38 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Steve Evans Subject: Errata (not so sweet) It's what I get for adding my two cents, but when I called Adorno's "Memento" section of MINIMA MORALIA "a meditation on writing that reviles Benjamin's 'The Writer's Technique in Thirteen Theses'" I rather meant to write "rivals." But the difference is "thin" as a former teacher of mine used to put such things. (I also mistyped "ei" in one of the Wiesengrunds). As penance I offer the following (quoted without permission as always): "His Words in her heart rather than upon her lips (A&H) correspond to an old need so authentic modern works are criticisms of past ones (A1) beloved by the gods and as such he [sic] (A2) So much for Tragedy and Epic poetry (A2) _hominum_ [sic] _dabit homini_ [sic] _A te petatur, in te quaeratur, apud te pulsetur: sic, sic_ (A3) A&H-Abeland & Heloise / A1-Adorno / A2-Aristotle / A3-Augustine" Joan Retallack's *Errata 5uite* (Washington DC: Edge, 1993): p.7. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 11:30:14 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow yr. right, burt, wcw has indeed influenced "widely or deeply," "like the air we breathe." that's the problem. it's like going to b&r and finding the flavor of the month is vanilla. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 12:24:39 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gale Nelson Subject: French Poetry Festival in October In-Reply-To: Message of Mon, 11 Sep 1995 08:22:00 -0700 from Poets Jean Fremon, Emmanuel Hocquard, Jacqueline Risset and Claude Royet- Journoud will be participating in a bilingual, bicampus French Poetry Festival in October -- reading and discussing poetics at SUNY Buffalo on 18 and 19 October and at Brown University on 23 and 24 October 1995. Jean Fremon was born in 1946 in Asnieres. He has written criticism, poetry and fiction. His recent novel is L'ile des morts (POL). English versions of his work inlcude "Withdrawal" translated by Tom Mandel, _serie d'ecriture 7_, and "Theatre" translated by Norma Cole, _Avec 4_. Emmanuel Hocquard was born in Tangier in 1940. He was, with the artist Raquel, the editor and printer of the small press, "Orange Export Ltd." which has published many new French and American poets. He has written poetry, criticism, and novels (_Aerea dans les forets de Manhattan_ won the Prix France-Culture in 1985). With Claude Royet-Journoud, he edited two large anthologies of new American poets, _21 + 1: Poetes americains d'aujourd'-hui_ and _49 + 1._ English versions of his work include _Late Additions_, translated by Connell McGrath and Rosmarie Waldrop, Serie d'Ecriture and _Theory of Tables,_ translated by Michael Palmer, oblek editions. Jacqueline Risset was born in Besancon in 1933. She has published six books of poetry as well as critical works. She teaches French literature at the Unversity La Sapienza in Rome, has been on the editorial board of _Tel Quel_, and is well known for her translations of Italian, most notably of Dante. English versions of her work include the forthcoming _The Translation Begins,_ translated by Jennifer Moxley, Burning Deck. Claude Royet-Journoud was born in Lyon in 1933. He was cofounder and coeditor with Anne-Marie Albiach and Michael Couturier of the magazine _Siecle a mains_ (1963-70). With Emmanuel Hocquard, he edited two major anthologies of American poets, _21 + 1_ and _49 + 1_. English versions of his work include _The Notion of Obstacle_, translated by Keith Waldrop and _The Maternal Drape,_ translated by Charles Bernstein (both titles published by AWEDE). Dates and times for events in Buffalo will be posted in the near future. At Brown, readings will take place at 8 p.m. on both evenings of the Festival: 23 October: Readings by Jean Fremon and Emmanuel Hocquard 24 October: Readings by Jacqueline Risset and Claude Royet-Journoud Both readings will take place at Rochambeau House, 84 Prospect Street, on the east side of Providence, R.I. For directions, please contact the Brown Creative Writing Program at 401 863 3260 or send electronic mail to Gale Nelson at el500005@Brownvm.Brown.edu. The French Poetry Festival is sponsored by Brown University's Program in Creative Writing and SUNY-Buffalo's Poetics Program. Brown Creative Writing thanks the Department of French Studies, a generous anonymous donor and the Beinecke Foundation for their support. SUNY-Buffalo Poetics thanks the Melodia E. Jones Chair (Raymond Federman), David Gray Chair (Charles Bernstein) and Eugenio Donato Chair (Rodolphe Gasche). # # # ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 13:04:58 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY OK, I'd just like to clear something up. I know David Ayre, I've worked closely with David Ayre, & believe me he's no commercialism-infested desert island. We're talking about a man capable of the most inert pseudo-expletive non-existence. He's sexually attracted to the bandaged, ya know, to the head-wound type, to the bandaged. His eyes bug out in a serotonin induced trance at the first whiff of certain crucial facts. His organelles are self-ordered and invariant, it's disgusting, really. I mean, really. He once mistook a fire escape for a weapon & is a traditional predator on the tubifex worm. Christ himself called him an ambidextrous universe. In the end he'll look like a great bundle of hair. Of all those institutions that set out in the nineteenth century to medicalize sex, it was David Ayre, that smarmy neolithic tryptamine, that conceived & published the greatest degenerescence. A farm hand from the village of Lapcourt, Ayre paid no attention to tremendous noises, & as he became older, asked for EXTRA ORDERS when the firing started. I won't even begin to describe his 'Master Plan' as it permutates abruptly in hyperspatial superconductive telepathic rapport Weeping Weeping oer thy cheek asleep where thy little heart doth rest a chapel of gold secret smiles clothd in iron wire both cold & heat & no father there & no Anarchist leaders down among the swine in that hurricane of ooze: this is the Ayre we breath, an oxidized sandpaper of cyber-assertions growing in our experiment and cancelling, flattening, defenceless. He is schizophrenic, deaf, & completely commited to the work ethic. We simply must call a cop or something. The hospital food is very meagre. Beware Ayre for it has been written 'No Cult can make it without enemies." or was it enemas. . . Any case, keep your guns cocked, no amount or impending demoralization will neutralize his surgical pedigree. Ayre is an alphabet of actual insects, a sick zone caressed by the warmth of the rising sun. Rumour has it he reads Poe. This morphogenetically obtuse lump of cramp investigation must be talked to nicely, for we have so very much to learn, my friends. My dear, sweet friends. --Rod ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 10:50:53 PST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tom Taylor Organization: PSU Cramer Hall Subject: Re: Agency (1) This reply intentionally left blank ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 11:02:58 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "M. Magoolaghan" Subject: you & whose army? In-Reply-To: <01HV5CH935K08WWNCJ@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU> hal foster: curious & telling that 3 poets you obviously admire & have written cogently on recently--olson, duncan, creeley--found williams endlessly fascinating, where you've tired of him & his "damned chicken" so quickly. as a prof. here retorted to an uppity undergrad who thought he could "see right through" heidegger: "one does not simply dismiss a great mind." i suppose next you'll be telling us zukofsky has a tin ear? enuf _ex cathedra_ pronouncements, 'k? i'd prefer real dialogue to swaggering boosterism. how about stepping out of yer safe 3-line shell for a change? M. Magoolaghan ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 14:05:43 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "B. Cass Clarke" Organization: University at Buffalo Subject: Hollo, Dorn address Listers, If you have *current* address for Ed Dorn and/or Anselm Hollo, please backchannel to me - Thanks for your help. B. Cass Clarke V080g6j3@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 18:17:55 EDT Reply-To: beard@metdp1.met.co.nz Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: beard@MET.CO.NZ Subject: Agency (1) This blank unintentionally left a message ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 14:58:08 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Brian McHale Subject: Steve McCaffery address In-Reply-To: Message of 09/11/95 at 14:05:43 from V080G6J3@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU I'm trying to track down Steve McCaffery. He doesn't seem to be using the e- mail address at which I corresponded with him last year; does anybody have a current e-mail address for him? Steve, if you're reading this, please flash a message my way. Brian McHale ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 14:54:12 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: your mail In-Reply-To: <199509111522.IAA09440@bob.indirect.com> On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Sheila E. Murphy wrote: > >On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Louis Cabri wrote: > > > >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > >> And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> Over coffee topped with whipped cream, the Times blowing > >> & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> condemmed. > >> promised what she practiced as triangular blue feats soothed > >> stunned images into form, saying a need, similar days > >> to those not before, yet stored, whose sifted haze > >> flushed a hick into dialogue with his own hack's > > knowledge of parental damage, but september welcome was > delinquent in its spreadsheet folly left on cruise control meanwhile lust fuels approximate wound designer's religiosity ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 15:32:10 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Organization: University at Buffalo Subject: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure S&J's excellent adventure sans chevrons Sheila wrote Jorge wrote: Sheila wrote Jorge wrote: Sheila wrote: Jorge wrote: In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative among the invoices and the difference engines Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 15:41:44 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Bernstein Organization: University at Buffalo Subject: French Poetry Festival Emmanuel Hocquard, Jean Fremon, and Jacqueline Risset will be reading in New York City on Friday October 20, from 6-8pm, at Millbank Hall, Barnard College, 117th Street and Broadway. This is a spin-off event of the Festival sponsored by Brown and Buffalo and part of "French poets at "B" universities in the Northeast" (Brown/Buffalo/Barnard: the francophilic triangle). Buffalo events with the four poets (that is, including Claude Royet-Journoud) are Weds., Oct. 18 at 4pm, bilingual reading at the Center for the Arts; and Thurs., Oct. 19, at 12:30, discussion, 438 Clemens Hall. (North campus.) Other French writers at Buffalo this fall -- Michel Deguy will be reading at UB on Weds., Oct. 25 at 4pm in the Center for the Arts. He will give a lecture on Oct. 24 at 12:30pm in 930 Clemens Hall. I've heard Deguy may be doing something at NYU, but have no information. Lucette Finas will read at UB on Weds., Sept. 27, at 4pm, Center for the Arts and give a lecture on Thurs. Sept. 28 at 12:30 in 438 Clemens. Non-French events at UB (admittedly a smaller number): all "Wednesdays at 4" in the Center for the Arts: Detroit-City Lights Poet-Playwright Carla Harryman, Sept. 13 (Harryman's _There Never Was a Rose Without a Thorn: Selected Writings_ is just out from City Lights) Scots-New York Performance Artist-Poet Fiona Templeton, Sept. 20 (Also a performance at Hallwalls on Sept. 19 at 8pm) West Riding of Yorkshire-Canadian Poet-Pataphysicist Steve McCaffery, Nov. 15. [All UB events are free and open to the public.] --Charles Benstein Poetics Program, SUNY-Buffalo "We're working around the clock To serve your poetry needs" * Coming soon to this listserv: Roses without Thorns (priority subscribers only) _________________________________________________________________________ /"cerebral thinness" -- just another way of saying "male pattern baldness"/ __________________________________________________________________________ ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 18:27:46 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> > > > > > (inspection >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, >> > > > > > kook!" >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco >> > > > > > warehouse, curls >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the >> > > > > > dry cleaners >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on >> > > > > > prescience >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose >> > > > > > encore >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for >> > > > > > moments to be >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams >> > > > > > were hooks. >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of >> > > > > > darkness >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft >> > > > > > fruit >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver tossing the shiver of leggings in the window, all farther ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 19:06:44 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Bill Luoma Subject: Fall Ear Inn Schedule (fwd) OCTOBER & NOVEMBER AT THE EAR INN October 7: Rob Fitterman/Dan Farrell Rob Fitterman, editor of Object, no longer raises chinchillas and is the author of Ameresque, Metropolis and Why It Won't Fly. Rob was recently named one of People Magazine's Best Dressed of 1995 and his current project involves nirvana. Dan Farrell is the author of ape and Thimking of You. Chef to the minion of Gormal, Dan lives in Vancouver and has recently been touring with the musical group Nostradamus Now. October 14: Kenneth Goldsmith/Liz Fodaski Kenneth Goldsmith is a ham radio host with a muckraker's eye and an arsenal of political products. His books include 73 Poems, The Mona Lisa Smiled at Me and Green Apples. Liz Fodaski edits Torque, pronounces her name phonetically and teaches English at St. Ann's in Brooklyn. She is the author of Ouch, Millenarian's Phonebook and Who Dunnit and knows the secret of ruby mining. October 21: Barrett Watten/Jackson MacLow Barrett Watten co-edits Poetics Journal, teaches Modernism and Cultural Studies at Wayne State University in Detroit and is the author of Plasma, Progress and the forthcoming Frame: 1970-1990. Jackson MacLow has written numerous books including 42 Merzgedichte in Memoriam Kurt Schwitters and Pieces o' Six. MacLow is currently searching the manufacturing sector for pyramid shapes. October 28: Carla Harryman/Steve Benson Carla Harryman is the author of Animal Instincts and Property and is most famous for her discovery of salt. Monkeywrencher of commodification industries and exalted by mammals, Carla receives information without charge. Steve Benson has written The Buses and The Blue Book. Benson collaborates with Biblical figures without regard to the status of hydroponic farming in Alaska. November 4: Gale Nelson/Charles Cantalupo Gale Nelson is the author of Stare Decisis (Burning Deck), Little Brass Pump (Leave Books), and The Mystic Cypher (Texture). He is also editor of the journal Cathay. He currently teaches at Brown University. Charles Cantalupo is the author of ANIMA/L WO/MAN AND OTHER SPIRITS (Spectacular Diseases), The World of Ngugi Wa Thiong'o (Africa World Press) and numerous other volumes of poetry and criticism. November 11: Jessica Grim/John Keene Jessica Grim is the author of Locale (Potes & Poets, 1995), The Inveterate Life (O Books, 1990), Intrepid Hearts (Coincidence, 1986). She is the co-editor of Big Allis, and lives and works in Oberlin, Ohio. John Keene is the author of the recently published experimental novel, "Annotations" (New Directions, 1995). He is a member of the Dark Room Collective, and managing editor of Callaloo. November 18: Thomas Meyer/Jonathan Williams Thomas Meyer is the author of Staves, Calends, Legends: The Umbrella of Aesculapius; Sappho's Raft and the Bang Bood-all from The Jargon Society, and Tom Writes This For Robert To Read (St. Lazaire). Jonathan Williams is the founder of The Jargon Society, and the author of An Ear in Bartram's Tree , Quote, Unquote (Ten Speed Press), Dementations of a Shank Mare (Truck Press) and many other books. November 25: Drew Gardner/Juliana Spahr Drew Gardner is the author of The Stone Walk (St. Lazaire) and The Cover (Leave Books). His work has appeared in Talisman, Notus and O.blek. He is also a musician who has recently performed at the Knitting Factory. Juliana Spahr is the publisher of Leave Books and the author of Nuclear (Leave Books). Recent publications edited include Chain and A Poetics of Criticism. She has recently returned to Manhattan after receiving her Ph.D from SUNY Buffalo. SATURDAY AFTERNOON READINGS BEGIN AT 3:00PM! $3 contribution goes to readers. THE EAR INN is at 326 Spring Street, NYC. Coordinators for this series are Jeff Hull (October) and Tim Davis and Brian Kim Stefans (November). Continuing support for this series is provided by the Segue Foundation. Funding is also made possible by support from the Literature Program of the New York State Council on the Arts. PLEASE SUPPORT THE EAR-COME EARLY FOR LUNCH, STAY LATE FOR DINNER! ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 19:12:34 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Excellent Adventure > >> >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > >> >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine > >> morning > >> >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of > >> water' > >> >s > >> >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for > ignoranc > >e > >> >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection > >> >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >> neo-colonizin > >> >g > >> >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially > >> several > >> >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > >> >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, > >> oh,ho > >> >, > >> >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" > Tobacc > >o > >> >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > >> >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak wa s > >> at t > >> >he > >> >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > >> >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > >> >> >> >> > > > > > prescience > >> >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > >> >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughte r > >> chos > >> >e > >> >> >> >> > > > > > encore > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity f or > >> >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be > >> >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the > strea > >ms > >> >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > >> >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel see ds > >of > >> >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > >> >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >> Likewise > >> >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >> recently so > >> >ft > >> >> >> >> > > > > > fruit > >> >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > >> >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > >> >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >> considered > >> >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > >> >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough > to sle > >ep > >> >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgott en > >> >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is > to go > >> >> ahead > >> >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far > eyes > >> >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, > touch my > >> >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red > stuff. > >> >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost > some > >> >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and de ep > >> >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our > >> palaver > >> >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes > >> >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > >> >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for > >> widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude > >> that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal > slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses The brick wall is a golden retriever of spotlights ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 16:04:54 -0800 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: klobucar Subject: Dave Ayre As I Remember Him *****Dave Ayre As I Remember Him********* Let me just say a few words in light of this situation. David Ayre was a man. Truly. He could always get the lids off jars; was always scratching and sniffing in places everybody forgot about. Always needed a butter knife. Yet above all: the best person in the whole world. He was the smartest guy I knew. He was old Dave. He was the kindest soul in the community, never asking questions, always willing to lend his hammer. He accepted everybody equally. Every boy loved him. Always had an opinion. Never any skin off his back. Never let the sun go down. You always knew where to find Dave, even when he told you exactly where he'd be. Could be that Dave had seen it all, because he practised what he pitched. Maybe he was born that way, or, perhaps, it was in his genes. In any case, he was rarely too busy. He knew how to push the right buttons. He sure lived. I think of Dave, holding on, never letting go, no matter how much you begged. Needless to say, I was shocked when I read about him. I had trouble seeing what all the fuss was about. In any case, it's not the Dave that I want to remember. So I say: he will come out in the end. It is silly to think otherwise. He was the stuffing of dreams and, as always, he would continue to make all the difference. Thank you. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 19:51:03 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Adventure Agency In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative among the invoices and the difference engines Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons and at 11:55 the Times' restaurant critic names our favorite place ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 10:30:56 +0900 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: John Geraets Subject: Entry Phrasing Is saying Testing One Two Three (a friend asked) a way of checking out the medium or of gaining attention? And why should those two functions be tied to such trite wordage? I said I'd ask for her. John frank@dpc.aichi-gakuin.ac.jp ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 18:26:49 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: putting on ayres In-Reply-To: <199509110356.UAA04490@sparta.SJSU.EDU> I wondered about that too, till I spotted George's nearly immediate response -- then I realized that the entire Ayres post was a massive anagram -- When last in Berkeley, by the way, Charles ate his French fries from the other end first and discussed Arabic poetry -- there are witnesses -- ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 18:54:24 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: your mail On Mon., 11 Sept. 1995, Jorge wrote: >On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Sheila E. Murphy wrote: > >> >On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Louis Cabri wrote: >> > >> >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> >> And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> Over coffee topped with whipped cream, the Times blowing >> >> & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the >> >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >> condemmed. >> >> promised what she practiced as triangular blue feats soothed >> >> stunned images into form, saying a need, similar days >> >> to those not before, yet stored, whose sifted haze >> >> flushed a hick into dialogue with his own hack's >> > knowledge of parental damage, but september welcome was >> delinquent in its spreadsheet folly left on cruise control > meanwhile lust fuels approximate wound designer's religiosity with brogues, distilled lip prints, and flagstones of the strained variety ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 18:55:56 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >S&J's excellent adventure sans chevrons Jorge wrote: >Sheila wrote >Jorge wrote: >Sheila wrote >Jorge wrote: >Sheila wrote: >Jorge wrote: > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >The caravan of windows to what they flee >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >which explains why the pump is busted and why >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >among the invoices and the difference engines >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 19:18:27 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Adventure Agency >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >The caravan of windows to what they flee >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >which explains why the pump is busted and why >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >among the invoices and the difference engines >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >and at 11:55 the Times' restaurant critic names our favorite place worth half a bongo, but that's taste when all the favorite pastimes are outlyers ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 22:25:31 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Patrick Phillips Subject: Re: Fall Ear Inn Schedule (fwd) thanks bill ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 22:29:42 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Patrick Phillips Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY to Rod; particularly since the sun hasn't risen in my quad of providence I am basking in your nightime panoply an utter udder. Your first was the perfect parens; your second the animation of it. Oh where has that letter fallen, been puloined? I say Smith stole it... ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 21:35:15 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write But they do. Makke a rite that is. Jorge wrote On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Jorge el Canadiense wrote: > > El otro Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote: > > > Jorge wrote: > > > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.>e> > > morning> > > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee> > > >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling> > > >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowinge> > > >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind> > > >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she> > > >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of> > > >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of'> > > >s> > > >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignoc> > e> > > >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection> > > >> >> >> > > > > > denied for knowing how credenza was meant) &> > neo-coln> > > >g> > > >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially> > > several > > > >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango> > > >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,> > > oh,ho > > > >,> > > >> >> >> > > > > > kook!"> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Toc> > o> > > >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls> > > >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak ws> > > at t> > > >he> > > >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners> > > >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched one> > > >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversr> > > chos> > > >e> > > >> >> >> > > > > > encore> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all through eternity fore> > > >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the sa> > ms> > > >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > > > >> >> >> > > > > > All belled like striated film leftover in >>>the pastel> seeds > of> > > >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > > > >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel.> > > Likewise> > > >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and> > > recently so> > > >ft> > > >> >> >> > > > > > fruit> > > >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation> > > >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback> > > >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles> > > considered> > > >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging> > > >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised> > > >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough toe> > ep> > > >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes> > > >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotn> > > >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to> > > >> ahead> > > >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes> > > >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit> > > >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom> > > >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power> > > >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum> > > >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why> > > >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that> > > >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon> > > >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool> > > >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze> > > >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house> > > >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touc> > > >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red st> > > >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some> > > >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and d> > > >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our> > > palaver> > > >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes> > > >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for> > > widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude> > > that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal> > event of the first order, observed by St. Petersburg poets on horses mounted on cardboard which i had given Park Place & two railroads for. Jorge wrote: In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >e> > > morning> > > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee> > > >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling> > > >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowinge> > > >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind> > > >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she> > > >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of> > > >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of'> > > >s> > > >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignoc> > e> > > >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection> > > >> >> >> > > > > > denied for knowing how credenza was meant) &> > neo-coln> > > >g> > > >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially> > > several > > > >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango> > > >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,> > > oh,ho > > > >,> > > >> >> >> > > > > > kook!"> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Toc> > o> > > >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls> > > >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak ws> > > at t> > > >he> > > >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners> > > >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched one> > > >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversr> > > chos> > > >e> > > >> >> >> > > > > > encore> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all through eternity fore> > > >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the sa> > ms> > > >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > > > >> >> >> > > > > > All belled like striated film leftover in >>>the pastel> seeds > of> > > >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > > > >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel.> > > Likewise> > > >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and> > > recently so> > > >ft> > > >> >> >> > > > > > fruit> > > >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation> > > >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback> > > >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles> > > considered> > > >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging> > > >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised> > > >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough toe> > ep> > > >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes> > > >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotn> > > >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to> > > >> ahead> > > >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes> > > >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit> > > >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom> > > >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power> > > >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum> > > >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why> > > >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that> > > >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon> > > >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool> > > >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze> > > >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house> > > >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touc> > > >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red st> > > >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some> > > >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and d> > > >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our> > > palaver> > > >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes> > > >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for> > > widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude> > > that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal> > event of the first order, observed by St. Petersburg poets on horses mounted on cardboard which i had given Park Place & two railroads for. for the price Barnum %& Bailey began postmodernism with ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 21:31:28 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: " . . ." In-Reply-To: <199509120358.UAA04371@sparta.SJSU.EDU> Carolyn -- if you talk Joan into a modem, I will meet you guys there! (& say hello to Joan for me -- haven't seen her since June) ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 21:47:38 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: Special Delivery In-Reply-To: <199509120358.UAA04371@sparta.SJSU.EDU> As someone who once lived on Rod Smith's mail route (& not a one of us thought it accidental that Smith worked the roads around _Man_assas), I am disturbed by this charge that Mr. Smith has stolen a letter. Smith is above all that. Above all, he is honest as the day is, no tin horn like that Zukofsky guy Foster was always complaining about when people were waiting for their mail to arrive, for god's sake. None of us around here will sit still for such character assassination. Smith has taken no letter. They're all right here where they're supposed to be; we counted 'em up just to make sure. I know for a fact that Rod Smith once walked a mile through the humidity just to return a copy of _Sulfur_ that had mistakenly been delivered to his P.O. box. It's true that Rod's magazine suddenly sprouted a letter in its title that had not been there before, but Rod won that letter fair and square in a poetry slam at the Audubon Society. sincerely, sycorax ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 00:54:43 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: <950911182743_16534537@emout04.mail.aol.com> Attention Loss, branch X based on Jordan's latest version but with restored windows and breasts > >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.> > >> > > > > > And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning > >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her breasts as she > >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's > >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> > > > > > (inspection > >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing > >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several > >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias, oh,ho, > >> > > > > > kook!" > >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco > >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the > >> > > > > > dry cleaners > >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on > >> > > > > > prescience > >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers > >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose > >> > > > > > encore > >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for > >> > > > > > moments to be > >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the streams > >> > > > > > were hooks. > >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of > >> > > > > > darkness > >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise > >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft > >> > > > > > fruit > >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback > >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered > >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go > ahead > >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, touch my > >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver > tossing the shiver of leggings in the window, all farther down the incrementally known by forcing pale ramon to punt ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 01:06:05 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <950911190022_16559407@mail06.mail.aol.com> On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were > books.> > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > And flew through windows '95, lightning green and > fine > > >> morning > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and > cloud > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times > blowing > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape > of > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass > of > > >> water' > > >> >s > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for > > ignoranc > > >e > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > (inspection > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > > >> neo-colonizin > > >> >g > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small furniture intended house > sequentially > > >> several > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > "Dias, > > >> oh,ho > > >> >, > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > kook!" > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" > > Tobacc > > >o > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > warehouse, curls > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak > wa > s > > >> at t > > >> >he > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > dry cleaners > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched > on > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > prescience > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' > livers > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > the odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo > daughte > r > > >> chos > > >> >e > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > encore > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > eternity f > or > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > moments to be > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the > > strea > > >ms > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel > see > ds > > >of > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > >> Likewise > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > >> recently so > > >> >ft > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > fruit > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent transformation > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > switchback > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > >> considered > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprised > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough > > to sle > > >ep > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light > shakes > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin > forgott > en > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is > > to go > > >> >> ahead > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, > far > > eyes > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > >> >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > >> >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > >> >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the > breeze > > >> >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > >> >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here, > > touch my > > >> >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red > > stuff. > > >> >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can > defrost > > some > > >> >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and > de > ep > > >> >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > our > > >> palaver > > >> >> > have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end > goes > > >> >> meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the > > >> >> sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for > > >> widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude > > >> that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal > > slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices > but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > The brick wall is a golden retriever of spotlights could attend own fusion i have not dated affection ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 01:18:43 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Adventure Agency In-Reply-To: <950911195100_16609243@emout04.mail.aol.com> On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > through windows lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her breasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > among the invoices and the difference engines > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > and at 11:55 the Times' restaurant critic names our favorite place & you & your texts may be congestive but we are ingestive, dude! ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 01:23:45 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: your mail In-Reply-To: <199509120154.SAA26096@bob.indirect.com> On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Sheila E. Murphy wrote: > On Mon., 11 Sept. 1995, Jorge wrote: > >On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Sheila E. Murphy wrote: > > > >> >On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Louis Cabri wrote: > >> > > >> >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > >> >> And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > >> >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >> The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >> Over coffee topped with whipped cream, the Times blowing > >> >> & opining, heavy humid air, cumulus amusing against the > >> >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >> condemmed. > >> >> promised what she practiced as triangular blue feats soothed > >> >> stunned images into form, saying a need, similar days > >> >> to those not before, yet stored, whose sifted haze > >> >> flushed a hick into dialogue with his own hack's > >> > knowledge of parental damage, but september welcome was > >> delinquent in its spreadsheet folly left on cruise control > > meanwhile lust fuels approximate wound designer's religiosity > with brogues, distilled lip prints, and flagstones of the strained variety which would follow synonymous under intention thereby directly inherent ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 01:36:11 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509120155.SAA26109@bob.indirect.com> Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > >Sheila wrote > >Jorge wrote: > >Sheila wrote > >Jorge wrote: > >Sheila wrote: > >Jorge wrote: > > > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >The caravan of windows to what they flee > >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >which explains why the pump is busted and why > >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >among the invoices and the difference engines > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 22:38:41 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: Adventure Agency In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative among the invoices and the difference engines Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons and at 11:55 the Times' restaurant critic names our favorite place for feasting on _Dead Souls_ Gogol napisat vopros Akhmatova ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 02:07:55 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: Dave Ayre As I Remember Him My finest klobucar, How good to have news of you after so many burning bridges I too remember kind ol' Dave. First laid eyes on him sitting in the back at that Spicer/Yasusada reading with a copy of Vivekananda. He had that youthful "in this ocean of existence we are all but wavelets" kinda way about him. Remember how he taught that sweet pup "Stuckey" to open the RC bottles? Charity is great, but the moment you say it all, you run the risk of running into materialism. Dave was like that, always another sweet meaningless comment while divvying up the loot. And lord the Duchamp show! Attaching playing cards to the bicycle readymade. . . really freaked that guard's gobble. And that time we needed to detonate the device, who could we turn to but ol Dave, (poor Stuckey). And him always quoting that Padgett line, spitting on us with laughter, "The natives of Tangiers are referred to as Tangerines." Ah, the old Daves. . . but I don't remember any hammers. We are talking about the same guy? ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 23:08:42 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: renga Is no one going to take responsibility of initiating this whole thing. I would say that that person is in reality the author and they should be the one whose permission is needed. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 15:27:50 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Herb Levy Subject: SPECIAL AGENCY Wystan - I've seen David Ayres & Charles Bernstein in the same room. Now that I think of it, you may have as well, but that's another story. In fact, now that I think of it, I've probably seen David Ayres & Kevin Killian (or was that Dodie?, Kevin usually announces himself) in the same room too (the same room as Dodie, well, maybe), though perhaps I didn't know it at the time. Wait, now that I think of it, I think I've seen Wystan Curnow, Dodie Bellamy, David Ayre, Charles Bernstein, Kevin Killian, and Marcel Proust all in the same room once. Oops, now that i think of it, it wasn't Marcel Proust at all, it was George Bowering. I sometimes get the 2 of them confused. On the other hand, now that I think of it, I've never seen no Rod Smith or Hal Foster, no how. Herb Levy herb@eskimo.com ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 03:30:27 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: renga > Is no one going to take responsibility of initiating >this whole thing. I would say that that person is in reality >the author and they should be the one whose permission is >needed. says Thomas Bell But this whole thing has been so much not about permissions. First, it's not a renga, and no one received permission to call it that or to butcher that form. Also, I notice that some lines (or at least one I wrote originally) have been altered already, and I don't think anyone asked permission. No one ever asks permission of the already existing authors to add to the work, thereby changing it. And do you really think you can get everyone who has contributed to give permission? Good luck. Charles Alexander Chax Press P.O. Box 19178 Minneapolis, MN 55419-0178 612-721-6063 (phone & fax) chax@mtn.org ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 03:26:20 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow I never eat WCW and leave the table unsatisfied. Hot fresh country biscuits dripping with butter! ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 07:36:27 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Michael Boughn Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow and that Damned Chicken In-Reply-To: <01HV5C7JJTY28WWNCJ@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU> from "Edward Foster" at Sep 11, 95 11:23:06 am Ed: When was the last time you went back to *Spring and All* (the whole thing) or *Kora in Hell*? Perhaps it's only a measure of my own superficiality, but they still get me, every time. The anthologies were always too small to hold this stuff, even that wheelbarrow which sure looks different in its original habitat. Best, Mike mboughn@epas.utoronto.ca ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 07:39:54 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Michael Boughn Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY In-Reply-To: <950911130430_16287377@mail02.mail.aol.com> from "Rod Smith" at Sep 11, 95 01:04:58 pm David Ayre = Id day rave ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 09:26:38 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Charles O. Hartman" Subject: Re: Entry Phrasing In-Reply-To: <199509120130.AA101309456@agudpc.dpc.aichi-gakuin.ac.jp> On Tue, 12 Sep 1995, John Geraets wrote: > Is saying Testing One Two Three (a friend > asked) a way of checking out the medium or > of gaining attention? And why should those > two functions be tied to such trite wordage? > I said I'd ask for her. > > John > frank@dpc.aichi-gakuin.ac.jp > In fact the phrase was traditionally used, not by the person for whom the microphone was being readied, but by the sound technician whose job was to ready it; and the ethos of the boring phrase was exactly its renunciation of being-worth-paying-attention-to. Making the channel clear is not a matter for self-announcement; and come to think of it, does Homer ever say "I"? Charles Hartman ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 09:52:23 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: you & whose army? mr. m: to admire x does not obligate one to admire those admired by x. best to you from . . . hal (?) ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 08:10:27 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Herb Levy Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY >David Ayre = Id day rave Now that I think of it, I've always found David Ayre to both ready & avid. Herb Levy herb@eskimo.com ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 08:17:48 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Kevin Killian Subject: Address query Do any of you know addresses for a) Richard Candida Smith or b) Steven Watson? Please if so send to- Kevin Killian Thanks ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 11:18:42 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow ron, no one eats wcw with butter, that's crude, and unhealthy. wcw, once it's properly roasted, should only be served with white sauce. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 11:13:01 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: Special Delivery enuf of that sweet-talkin' sycorax stuff, a neilson: you zuk x, and x 'll beat the sulfur out of your jeans. rod's got no letter cuz the wrong letter was the letter he found, and you better believe it, hey! ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 07:39:00 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Don Cheney Subject: Phone Bill Bill Luoma = mull a boil ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 09:49:53 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "M. Magoolaghan" Subject: Re: you & whose army? In-Reply-To: <01HV6NFE1BAW8WWZU1@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU> On Tue, 12 Sep 1995, Edward Foster wrote: > mr. m: to admire x does not obligate one to admire those admired by x. best to y > ou from . . . hal (?) > dear edward (hal)sey foster: certainly. but it's too easy to dismiss wms on the basis of one chicken poem taken out of context, much harder when you acknowledge olson's/creeley's/zukofsky's/et al's longstanding admiration, no? p'raps if you find wms old hat it's b/c yer reading the wrong wms? read spring & all, selected essays, or american grain recently? sorry to confuse you with the anti-aesthetic guy. enjoyed understanding blk mtn poets, though i'm still not convinced it's all emerson's doing. all best, mm ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 10:41:05 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jeffrey Timmons Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY Comments: To: Herb Levy In-Reply-To: i'm bored . . . and have no sense of irony. please send help. jeffrey timmons ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 10:42:13 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jeffrey Timmons Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY Comments: To: Herb Levy In-Reply-To: oops, what i meant was i'm bored . . . am bored by wcw and have no sense of irony . . . which is probably why i like him. jeffrey timmons ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 14:57:15 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group Comments: Converted from PROFS to RFC822 format by PUMP V2.2X From: Alan Golding Subject: Jobs Associate Professor of English, U. of Louisville Phone: (502)-852-5918; e-mail: acgold01@ulkyvm.louisville.edu I wanted to notify the list of two positions that we're seeking to fill here this year. Both are assistant professorships; deadline is Nov. 10; AA/EOE. 1. Specialization in postcolonial literatures in English, with strong interest in second literary field and/or critical theory. 2. Specialization in fiction writing; secondary activity in another genre (esp. creative non-fiction), literary field, or rhetoric and composition desirable. More details can be found in the job ads in the MLA and Chronicle of Higher Education. Please, depending on your situation, consider applying or alerting your students to these opportunities. Given the general interests of the list, it seems a good idea to let you know that the folks running the fiction search are likely to define that genre in fairly traditional terms, and not be super-receptive to, say, polygeneric or indeterminately generic writing--meaning (I'm blathering here) they'll probably be drawn to people writing stuff that looks like short stories, novellas, etc. At the same time, I consider one of my jobs in life to nudge my colleagues beyond the conventional in these matters, and though I'm not formally involved in that search I will be sitting in on interviews and trying to open up the field a bit. Bottom line: please write in--I don't want to discourage you from doing so--but don't get your hopes sky-high. But anyone who's been on the job market recently knows that. Alan ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 15:09:11 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gwyn McVay Subject: A non-list anagram In-Reply-To: George Herbert Walker Bush = Huge Berserk Rebel Warthog ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 15:42:12 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Adventure Agency In-Reply-To: <199509120218.TAA26498@bob.indirect.com> On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Sheila E. Murphy wrote: > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >The caravan of windows to what they flee > >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >which explains why the pump is busted and why > >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >among the invoices and the difference engines > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >and at 11:55 the Times' restaurant critic names our favorite place > worth half a bongo, but that's taste when all the favorite pastimes are outlyers of kimba fans streaming toward the flotilla of compelling drives ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 15:52:00 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Adventure Agency In-Reply-To: <199509120538.WAA00343@well.com> On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > among the invoices and the difference engines > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > and at 11:55 the Times' restaurant critic names our favorite place > for feasting on _Dead Souls_ Gogol napisat vopros Akhmatova of the fragrant mothers the least able to succeed in field hockey ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 15:47:52 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write In-Reply-To: <199509120435.VAA05870@well.com> On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > But they do. > Makke a rite that is. Jorge wrote > On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Jorge el Canadiense wrote: > > > > El otro Jorge wrote: > > > Sheila wrote: > > > > Jorge wrote: > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were > books.>e> > > morning> > > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a > cardinal in the poplar> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the > grass under sun and cloud> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse > Prussian blue, it binds> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to > what they flee> > > >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than > bondage, more> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined > and pebbling> > > >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish > Sunday years ago> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped > lads, the Times blowinge> > > >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded > into compassed wind> > > >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between > her beasts as she> > > >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical > snacks, landscape of> > > >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and > the storm in the glass of'> > > >s> > > >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent > incision we keep making safe for ignoc> > e> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > (inspection> > > >> >> >> > > > > > denied for knowing how credenza was > meant) &> > neo-coln> > > >g> > > >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small > furniture intended house sequentially> > > several > > > >> >> >> > > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,> > > oh,ho > > > > >,> > > >> >> >> > > > > > kook!"> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Edward > Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Toc> > o> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > warehouse, curls> > > >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric > the texture so to speak ws> > > at t> > > >he> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > dry cleaners> > > >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere > unsalted, perched one> > > >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and > i've lusted tootles' liversr> > > chos> > > >e> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > encore> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all through > eternity fore> > > >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were > creams and in the sa> > ms> > > >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > All belled like striated film leftover in > >>>the pastel> seeds > of> > > >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the > manchineel.> > > Likewise> > > >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with > seasoned instruments and> > > recently so> > > >ft> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > fruit> > > >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent > transformation> > > >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus > apokoinu switchback> > > >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were > bookmobiles rounding angles> > > considered> > > >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as > pine left in the acres to be aging> > > >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes > sing genderless in trio, surprised> > > >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet > effort really is or is not, fast enough toe> > ep> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotn> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to> > > >> > ahead> > > >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining > muscles, far eyes> > > >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam > operator will you cockpit> > > >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs > speak, the idiom> > > >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently > unequal-- the power> > > >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare > still trembles quantum> > > >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is > busted and why> > > >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the > phone to that> > > >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the > moon> > > >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the > cool> > > >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > > >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the > breeze> > > >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the > house> > > >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. > Here, touc> > > >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, > of the red st> > > >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & > we can defrost some> > > >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my > horse is lovely dark and d> > > >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the > shakes and drear, get lost in our> > > palaver> > > >> > have tongue will > travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes> > > >> sublime is cows > bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for> > > widest space succombs > to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude> > > that she has given > his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal> > event of the first > order, observed by St. Petersburg poets on horses mounted on cardboard > which i had given Park Place & two railroads for. > > Jorge wrote: > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > > >e> > > morning> > > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a > cardinal in the poplar> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on the > grass under sun and cloud> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse > Prussian blue, it binds> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to > what they flee> > > >> >> >> > > > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than > bondage, more> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined > and pebbling> > > >> >> >> > > > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish > Sunday years ago> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Over coffee topped with whipped > lads, the Times blowinge> > > >> >> >> > > > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded > into compassed wind> > > >> >> >> > > > > > kissing the weatherwoman between > her beasts as she> > > >> >> >> > > > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical > snacks, landscape of> > > >> >> >> > > > > > flicka son of thunderhead and > the storm in the glass of'> > > >s> > > >> >> >> > > > > > halfway pertinent > incision we keep making safe for ignoc> > e> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > (inspection> > > >> >> >> > > > > > denied for knowing how credenza was > meant) &> > neo-coln> > > >g> > > >> >> >> > > > > > pockets in small > furniture intended house sequentially> > > several > > > >> >> >> > > > > > > mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,> > > oh,ho > > > > >,> > > >> >> >> > > > > > kook!"> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Edward > Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Toc> > o> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > warehouse, curls> > > >> >> >> > > > > > no ideas but the woven fabric > the texture so to speak ws> > > at t> > > >he> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > dry cleaners> > > >> >> >> > > > > > piping hot and gloved-in somewhere > unsalted, perched one> > > >> >> >> > > > > > the chair is sad, alas, and > i've lusted tootles' liversr> > > chos> > > >e> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > encore> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all through > eternity fore> > > >> >> >> > > > > > of such suchness. In the nooks were > creams and in the sa> > ms> > > >> >> >> > > > > > were hooks. > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > All belled like striated film leftover in > >>>the pastel> seeds > of> > > >> >> >> > > > > > darkness > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > falling like a counterirritant around the > manchineel.> > > Likewise> > > >> >> >> > > > > > sandpaper juxtaposed with > seasoned instruments and> > > recently so> > > >ft> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > fruit> > > >> >> >> > > > > > of subject's object status, violent > transformation> > > >> >> >> > > > > > la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus > apokoinu switchback> > > >> >> >> > > > > > and in the u-turns were > bookmobiles rounding angles> > > considered> > > >> >> >> > > > > > shrill as > pine left in the acres to be aging> > > >> >> >> > > > > > flawlessly, flutes > sing genderless in trio, surprised> > > >> >> >> > > > > > by how quiet > effort really is or is not, fast enough toe> > ep> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes> > > >> >> >> > > > B> > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotn> > > >> >> >> > > > > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to> > > >> > ahead> > > >> >> >> > > > > > and dance, composing instead of straining > muscles, far eyes> > > >> >> >> > > > > > saunter lope pentecost beam > operator will you cockpit> > > >> >> >> > > > > > out, transplanted organs > speak, the idiom> > > >> >> >> > > > > > inseams, a snare as solvently > unequal-- the power> > > >> >> >> > > > > > uncreased although each snare > still trembles quantum> > > >> >> >> > > > > > which explains why the pump is >[B busted and why> > > >> >> >> > > > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the > phone to that> > > >> >> >> > > > > > crap about not having a cousin on the > moon> > > >> >> >> > > > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the > cool> > > >> >> >> > > > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > > >> >> >> > > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > > >> >> >> > > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the > breeze> > > >> >> >> > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the > house> > > >> >> >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. > Here, touc> > > >> >> >> > > > > < ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, > of the red st> > > >> >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & > we can defrost some> > > >> >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my > horse is lovely dark and d> > > >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the > shakes and drear, get lost in our> > > palaver> > > >> > have tongue will > travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes> > > >> sublime is cows > bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for> > > widest space succombs > to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude> > > that she has given > his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal> > event of the first > order, observed by St. Petersburg poets on horses mounted on cardboard > which i had given Park Place & two railroads for-- > for the price Barnum %& Bailey began postmodernism with by not giving the auroras-of-autumn suckers and even break, but ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 13:28:54 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ryan Knighton Subject: Re: Welford In-Reply-To: from "Jorge Guitart" at Sep 12, 95 00:54:43 am Sorry to use this space. Gabrielle, I accidentally or incidentally deleted your message before I could read it. Lemme have it back if you can, please. Ryan, with apologies knighton@sfu.ca ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 20:52:33 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >>S&J's excellent adventure sans chevrons > Jorge wrote: Sheila wrote Jorge wrote: Sheila wrote Jorge wrote: Sheila wrote: Jorge wrote: Sheila wrote: In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative among the invoices and the difference engines Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 17:00:23 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Bill Luoma Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow Ed, WCW is similar to Joseph Cotton in the 3rd Man, as are you. The american who doesn't quite get it. I kind of identify with him. I mean you. Does anyone know what book the bag poem Williams wrote is in? It's about a car running over an empty paper bag . . . Bill Luoma ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 17:49:53 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: use narrative engines were books green and fine morning poplar and cloud binds bondage, more pebbling years ago Times blowing against the wind breasts as she landscape of the glass of water's safe for ignorance meant & neo-colonizing sequentially several big tango said, "Dias, oh, ho Through the Roof" Tobacco speak was at the unsalted, perched on livers daughter chose throughout eternity for and in the streams pastel seeds of manchineel. Likewise instruments and recently soft transformation apokoinu switchback rounding angles considered surprised enough to sleep light shakes skin forgotten she is to go ahead muscles, far eyes cockpit power quantum why to that the cool so wetsuit, dose use narrative engines there the breeze house Here, touch my the red stuff. defrost some dark and deep in our palaver the end goes the for the latitude signal vortices ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 17:57:12 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: ode to unix were books morning a cardinal in the poplar on the grass under sun and cloud obtuse Prussian blue, it binds windows to what they flee than bondage, more thin-spined and pebbling waspish Sunday years ago whipped lads, the Times blowinge ripcorded into compassed wind weatherwoman between her breasts as she fanatical snacks, landscape of and the storm in the glass of pertinent incision we keep making safe for (inspection was fabric the texture so to speak was dry cleaners somewhere unsalted, perched one and i've lusted tootles livers encore through eternity fore ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:10:46 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: twenty questions Probably the less said about the language of life, and the more about linebreak the better, but I'm guessing the new radio show out of Buffalo won't have the kind of grant money PBS did, nor would it use that money to produce a very slick set of teacher's guides (including 18 poet cards--bigger and less exciting than baseball cards). Outreach! they call it. Here are some "questions to think about" from the teacher's guide to "The Language of Life" with Bill Moyers (with apologies to C Forche, the only list member ((I think)) involved). High school teachers will be asking these questions to future citizens of our various polises (polices?) in the next few weeks... Why is "what you dream up" deeper than what you know? What will you do with your time? Why should you be suspicious of what you want? When did you last surprise wounds of your own this long time unmothered? How _can_ we move toward one another? How do you know if you can or can't sing? When do you catch sight of the promised land? What have you been given for your poetry? To what do you pledge allegiance? What is the "myself" that you want to be? What kind of satchel do you carry your poems in? How have you honored that floral apron? When did you last forget _your_ distance? What are the circumstances in which you are reading the poem? What would you aim your poems at? What music is great enough to bring you back? What leads you back to a person you need to remember? What happened before you were born that still matters to you now? I'll be collecting your papers next Tuesday, typed, double spaced... Jordan ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 10:05:44 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: renga you can have my permission for my one line in a version that never went much further than a slam with a Guitart Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz post: Dept of Art History, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, New Zealand Fax: 64 9-373 7014 Telephone: 64 9 373 7599 ext. 8981 or 7276 ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:27:29 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: ahem Chaim subroutine hawk stichic > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud > >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds > >The caravan of endowments to what they flee > >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling > >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! > >Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing > >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >missing the violinist between her rests as she > >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of > >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making > >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & > >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house > >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, > >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit > >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and > >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the > >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core > >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout > >eternity for solos to be of such suchness. > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >All models like films about their friends in pastel > >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. > >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and > >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels > >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging > >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers > >saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit > >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress > >which explains why the sump is busted and why > >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that > >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo > >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance > >among the choruses and the different people > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey > >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze > >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, > >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, > >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. > >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some > >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which > >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to > >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized > >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but > >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses > >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" > >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons > documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:45:59 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: this break will or will not not branch In-Reply-To: <9509122044.aa15623@post.demon.co.uk> Chris wrote: > Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote: > Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote: > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > among the invoices and the difference engines > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:54:35 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: renga In-Reply-To: h.t., loss, kevin and anybody else: unconditional permission granted. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 19:02:48 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: ahem Chaim subroutine hawk stichic In-Reply-To: <950912182728_97735586@emout04.mail.aol.com> On Tue, 12 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud > > >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds > > >The caravan of endowments to what they flee > > >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling > > >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! > > >Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing > > >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the > > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > >missing the violinist between her rests as she > > >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of > > >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass > > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making > > >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & > > >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house > > >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, > > >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit > > >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and > > >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence > > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the > > >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core > > >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout > > >eternity for solos to be of such suchness. > > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > >All models like films about their friends in pastel > > >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. > > >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and > > >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent > > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax > > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels > > >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging > > >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! > > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers > > >saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit > > >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom > > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress > > >which explains why the sump is busted and why > > >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that > > >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy > > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo > > >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use > > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance > > >among the choruses and the different people > > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey > > >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze > > >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, > > >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, > > >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. > > >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some > > >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep > > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which > > >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to > > >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his > > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized > > >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but > > >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses > > >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" > > >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons > > documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed > sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops > but my nerves are excellent tonight: I fired Mr. Churchyard ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 16:06:02 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Watts Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow In-Reply-To: <950912170022_17382542@emout05.mail.aol.com> from "Bill Luoma" at Sep 12, 95 05:00:23 pm Bill Luoma: Re that paper bag: it's THE TERM, about 1937, first published in COMPLETE COLLECTED POEMS, 1906-1938 -- so says Emily Mitchell Wallace in the Williams Bibliography (& A. Walton Litz & Christopher McGowan, THE COLLECTED POEMS, Vol 1, 1909-1939) s'long from b.c. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:17:56 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Brian W Horihan Subject: unidentified photo In-Reply-To: I know some of you are familiar with Theresa Cha's book Dictee, so I thought maybe I could pose my question here. It is: who is the woman in the picture at the beginning of the Erato-Love Poetry section? She's holding what looks like a flag and sword. I would appreciate any help. --brian ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:37:35 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" Subject: Re: twenty questions In-Reply-To: <950912181044_97718327@emout05.mail.aol.com> Oh God, Jordan, you're right. It's sick. I HATED the whole thing. For the POETICS record. Out-retch! --Carolyn On Tue, 12 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > Probably the less said about the language of life, and the more about > linebreak the better, but I'm guessing the new radio show out of Buffalo > won't have the kind of grant money PBS did, nor would it use that money to > produce a very slick set of teacher's guides (including 18 poet cards--bigger > and less exciting than baseball cards). Outreach! they call it. > > Here are some "questions to think about" from the teacher's guide to "The > Language of Life" with Bill Moyers (with apologies to C Forche, the only list > member ((I think)) involved). High school teachers will be asking these > questions to future citizens of our various polises (polices?) in the next > few weeks... > > Why is "what you dream up" deeper than what you know? > > What will you do with your time? > > Why should you be suspicious of what you want? > > When did you last surprise wounds of your own this long time unmothered? > > How _can_ we move toward one another? > > How do you know if you can or can't sing? > > When do you catch sight of the promised land? > > What have you been given for your poetry? > > To what do you pledge allegiance? > > What is the "myself" that you want to be? > > What kind of satchel do you carry your poems in? > > How have you honored that floral apron? > > When did you last forget _your_ distance? > > What are the circumstances in which you are reading the poem? > > What would you aim your poems at? > > What music is great enough to bring you back? > > What leads you back to a person you need to remember? > > What happened before you were born that still matters to you now? > > > I'll be collecting your papers next Tuesday, typed, double spaced... > Jordan > ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 21:24:22 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: jms Subject: Re: unidentified photo That is St. Theresa of Liseux posing as Joan of Arc in a convent play. Juliana Spahr > I know some of you are familiar with Theresa Cha's book Dictee, >so I thought maybe I could pose my question here. It is: who is the >woman in the picture at the beginning of the Erato-Love Poetry section? >She's holding what looks like a flag and sword. I would appreciate any >help. --brian > > ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:30:21 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <9509122044.aa15623@post.demon.co.uk> from "cris cheek" at Sep 12, 95 08:52:33 pm > > >>S&J's excellent adventure sans chevrons > > > Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote: > Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote: > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > The caravan of windows to what they flee > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > eternity for moments to be of such suchness, > to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > which explains why the pump is busted and why > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > among the invoices and the difference engines > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers, ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:32:46 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: A non-non-list anagram In-Reply-To: from "Gwyn McVay" at Sep 12, 95 03:09:11 pm Rod Smith (leaving out a rude obvious one) = Shod Trim ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:39:05 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: renga In-Reply-To: <199509120830.DAA18154@freedom.mtn.org> from "Charles Alexander" at Sep 12, 95 03:30:27 am On behalf of everyone who has diddled with the "renga," I hereby grant permission for its reproduction and editing in any medium whatsoever for all time and in any country. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:44:34 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Dave Ayre As I Remember Him In-Reply-To: <950912020754_16960161@mail02.mail.aol.com> from "Rod Smith" at Sep 12, 95 02:07:55 am My favourite memory of Dave Ayre: it was probably 1977, in Bolinas. Tom Clarke was out for his daily marathon run, and Dave was running backward in front of him, tossing rose petals in his path. Tom was shouting evil imprecations all the while, but after 12 miles held his breath and just made gruesome faces. Sometimes Dave wouild run over the hill and come back with another armload of blossoms. "You arsehole!" shouted Tom, "just run. Forget the encomia, forget the silent irony. Just run for daylight. But David smiled wordlessly. He was listening to his mantra over and over in his cranium, never told anyone what it was. Tom didnt know, and it was eating his gut. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 23:06:56 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Bernstein Organization: University at Buffalo Subject: "Free Poetics" (Daily Message Threshold (50) exceeded for list) It's 11pm in Buffalo as I log in and get this message (about the fourth or fifth time in the life of the list): Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 21:54:18 -0400 From: "L-Soft list server at UBVM (1.8b)" Subject: Message ("Daily message threshold (50) exceeded for list...") To: Charles Bernstein Daily message threshold (50) exceeded for list POETICS. The list has been held and will stop processing messages until a "FREE POETICS" command is received from you. *** So just to "Reveal Codes" and all that. Will now unlock the list. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 21:42:39 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: ahem Chaim subroutine hawk stichic In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds The caravan of endowments to what they flee These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind missing the violinist between her rests as she indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass s halfway pertinent incision we keep making (I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, "Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core slaughter because we're waiting all throughout eternity for solos to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All models like films about their friends in pastel of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress which explains why the sump is busted and why he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance among the choruses and the different people Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops closing about the glottal stop, succulent, ordinary Charles Alexander Chax Press P.O. Box 19178 Minneapolis, MN 55419-0178 612-721-6063 (phone & fax) chax@mtn.org ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 22:35:16 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Scott Krieger Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch In-Reply-To: > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > > eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > > of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti in the black stone cavity behind the swamphouse where we keep the papers with the blue seals and the green bottles gone rank > ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 22:33:26 +0100 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Patrick Phillips Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow Bill it's "The Term" and it's in _Poems '36 - '39_ ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 21:32:13 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout eternity for moments to be of such suchness. In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative among the invoices and the difference engines Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go Charles Alexander Chax Press P.O. Box 19178 Minneapolis, MN 55419-0178 612-721-6063 (phone & fax) chax@mtn.org ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 19:09:43 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY In-Reply-To: from "Gabrielle Welford" at Sep 10, 95 08:15:31 pm Well, Gabrielle Welford asked me to go on, and I have been debating the idea with myself and a few other people here for a few days. I dont want to tell you all the things that Charles B. did to turn people's stomachs during the Blaser fest. But when we were having our, uh, conversation in his room he kept jumping up to move his framed 8x11 picture of Kevin K. closer and closer. I could not stand it after a while. I took the thing he had behind the door and ran as fast as I could for the cleansing waters of Burrard Inlet, heedless of the accident that might have befallen me as I ran with tears welling in my orbs. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:51:59 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY In-Reply-To: from "Herb Levy" at Sep 11, 95 03:27:50 pm Herb Levy has a great ear for music, but he needs new glasses. I dont look like Marcel Proust at all. He's way deader than I am. ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 23:44:48 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: Fall Ear Inn Schedule (fwd) I'm informed that the Watten / MacLow reading is Oct. 14th NOT Oct. 21. Guess that would put Goldsmith/Fodaski the 21st? Watten will be reading DC Oct. 15th. at Bridge Street Books. Rosmarie Waldrop & Joan Retallack will be reading in Nov. --Rod ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 23:19:00 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> The caravan of windows to what they flee >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident >> kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada >> the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> eternity for moments to be of such suchness, >> to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. >> In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> which explains why the pump is busted and why >> he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> among the invoices and the difference engines >> Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers, laying on rocks in the wind, dissonance the order of our day ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 22:47:14 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote >> Jorge wrote: >> >Sheila wrote >> >Jorge wrote: >> >Sheila wrote >> >Jorge wrote: >> >Sheila wrote: >> >Jorge wrote: >> > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >among the invoices and the difference engines >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops threatening to have been arrested when the party wasn't looking ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 22:48:56 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: permissions 1) I am having trouble remembering what I did or didn't contribute. I'm not sure how I can give permission for something I don't remember doing, but am willing to do so. Thomas Bell. 2) However, after giving the issue some thought, I'm not sure I agree with piecemeal publication - what is important here I think is the process rather than the content. It is fairly common to release material and progams to freeware or the punblic somain with the stipulaion that they only be released in their entirety. Other thoughts on this issue? ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 23:02:43 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure chris wrote: >>>S&J's excellent adventure sans chevrons >> >Jorge wrote: >Sheila wrote >Jorge wrote: >Sheila wrote >Jorge wrote: >Sheila wrote: >Jorge wrote: > >Sheila wrote: > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >The caravan of windows to what they flee >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >which explains why the pump is busted and why >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >among the invoices and the difference engines >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast of cinched trousers, steel wool and classicists weeviling their way to ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 23:09:27 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Taking mercy on the over-posted On Monday, Sept. 11 Jorge Guitart On Mon, 11 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > But they do. > Makke a rite that is. Jorge wrote > On Sun, 10 Sep 1995, Jorge el Canadiense wrote: > > > > El otro Jorge wrote: > > > Sheila wrote: > > > > Jorge wrote: > > > > >> >> >> > > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were > books.>e> > > morning> > > >> >> >> > > > > > First inverted whistle of a > cardinal in the poplar> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The book and the oboe on > the > grass under sun and cloud> > > >> >> >> > > > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse > Prussian blue, it binds> > > >> >> >> > > > > > The caravan of windows to > shakes and drear, get lost in our> > > palaver> > > >> > have tongue will > travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes> > > >> sublime is cows > bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for> > > widest space succom > to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude> > > that she has given > his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal> > event of the first > order, observed by St. Petersburg poets on horses mounted on cardboard > which i had given Park Place & two railroads for-- > for the price Barnum %& Bailey began postmodernism with > by not giving the auroras-of-autumn suckers and even break, but scratching Chickens Little little knew the red wheelie he ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 09:14:22 +0200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "W. Northcutt" Subject: Red Wheelbarrow and that Road-Kill Chicken How terribly offensive the discussion has turned re Williams. He is neither vanilla at Baskin Robbins, nor white sauce. And Ron, you should know better. He isn't butter on biscuits. He is plumb-jam on bagels. Rengas are stinky cheese, or should be. Must it always take an expatriate to set straight those of you in the English-speaking countries???? Chicken House Willie ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 02:46:10 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: use narrative engines Jordan, Really like what you're doing with (to) the rengiad. But touch your own red stuff, puhlease. Ed (Hal?) White sauce w/ WCW has too much fat. Dat's the way they like it in Iowa City. Ron ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 10:12:44 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Judy Roitman Subject: Re: Entry Phrasing Someone asked (rhetorically I believe) if Homer ever uses "I". So I asked my husband Stanley Lombardo and he responded: Yes, Homer does say "I" of himself, In Iliad 2, right before the catalogue of the ships. And in the first line of the Odyssey he says "me." (Stan's translation of the Iliad comes out next fall.) ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 10:17:35 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Judy Roitman Subject: Re: unidentified photo > I know some of you are familiar with Theresa Cha's book Dictee, >so I thought maybe I could pose my question here. It is: who is the >woman in the picture at the beginning of the Erato-Love Poetry section? >She's holding what looks like a flag and sword. I would appreciate any >help. --brian Hi, Stan. Isn't Dictee the book we picked up at SMall Press Distribution? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Judy Roitman, Math, University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS 66045, 913-864-4630 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 10:19:27 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Judy Roitman Subject: Re: Fall Ear Inn Schedule (fwd) >I'm informed that the Watten / MacLow reading is Oct. 14th NOT Oct. 21. Guess >that would put Goldsmith/Fodaski the 21st? > >Watten will be reading DC Oct. 15th. at Bridge Street Books. >Rosmarie Waldrop & Joan Retallack will be reading in Nov. > >--Rod I'm going to be in DC next week. Any readings Thursday through Saturday night? (9-21 & 9-23). Really enjoy visiting Bridge Street Books whenever I'm in town. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Judy Roitman, Math, University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS 66045, 913-864-4630 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 11:23:33 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Bill Luoma Subject: Corrected Fall Ear Inn Schedule (fwd) OCTOBER & NOVEMBER AT THE EAR INN October 7: Rob Fitterman/Dan Farrell Rob Fitterman, editor of Object and ex-chinchilla rancher, is the author of Ameresque, Metropolis and Why It Won't Fly. Rob was recently named one of People Magazine's Best Dressed of 1995 and his current project involves nirvana. Dan Farrell is the author of ape and Thimking of You. Chef to the minion of Gormal, Dan lives in Vancouver and has recently been touring with the musical group Nostradamus Now. October 14: Barrett Watten/Jackson MacLow Barrett Watten co-edits Poetics Journal, teaches Modernism and Cultural Studies at Wayne State University in Detroit and is the author of Plasma, Progress and the forthcoming Frame: 1970-1990. Jackson MacLow has written numerous books including 42 Merzgedichte in Memoriam Kurt Schwitters and Pieces o' Six. MacLow is currently searching the manufacturing sector for pyramid shapes. October 21: Kenneth Goldsmith/Liz Fodaski Kenneth Goldsmith is a ham radio host with a muckraker's eye and an arsenal of political products. His books include 73 Poems, The Mona Lisa Smiled at Me and Green Apples. Liz Fodaski editsTorque, pronounces her name phonetically and teaches English at St. Ann's in Brooklyn. She is the author of Ouch, Millenarian's Phonebook and Who Dunnit and knows the secret of ruby mining. October 28: Carla Harryman/Steve Benson Carla Harryman is the author of Animal Instincts and Property and is most famous for her discovery of salt. Monkeywrencher of commodification industries and exalted by mammals, Carla receives information without charge. Steve Benson has written The Buses and The Blue Book. Benson collaborates with Biblical figures without regard to the status of hydroponic farming in Alaska. November 4: Gale Nelson/Charles Cantalupo Gale Nelson is the author of Stare Decisis (Burning Deck), Little Brass Pump (Leave Books), and The Mystic Cypher (Texture). He is also editor of the journal Cathay. He currently teaches at Brown University. Charles Cantalupo is the author of ANIMA/L WO/MAN AND OTHER SPIRITS (Spectacular Diseases), The World of Ngugi Wa Thiong'o (Africa World Press) and numerous other volumes of poetry and criticism. November 11: Jessica Grim/John Keene Jessica Grim is the author of Locale (Potes & Poets, 1995), The Inveterate Life (O Books, 1990), Intrepid Hearts (Coincidence, 1986). She is the co-editor of Big Allis, and lives and works in Oberlin, Ohio. John Keene is the author of the recently published experimental novel, "Annotations" (New Directions, 1995). He is a member of the Dark Room Collective, and managing editor of Callaloo. November 18: Thomas Meyer/Jonathan Williams Thomas Meyer is the author of Staves, Calends, Legends: The Umbrella of Aesculapius; Sappho's Raft and the Bang Bood-all from The Jargon Society, and Tom Writes This For Robert To Read (St. Lazaire). Jonathan Williams is the founder of The Jargon Society, and the author of An Ear in Bartram's Tree , Quote, Unquote (Ten Speed Press), Dementations of a Shank Mare (Truck Press) and many other books. November 25: Drew Gardner/Juliana Spahr Drew Gardner is the author of The Stone Walk (St. Lazaire) and The Cover (Leave Books). His work has appeared in Talisman, Notus and O.blek. He is also a musician who has recently performed at the Knitting Factory. Juliana Spahr is the publisher of Leave Books and the author of Nuclear (Leave Books). Recent publications edited include Chain and A Poetics of Criticism. She has recently returned to Manhattan after receiving her Ph.D from SUNY Buffalo. SATURDAY AFTERNOON READINGS BEGIN AT 3:00PM! $3 contribution goes to readers. THE EAR INN is at 326 Spring Street, NYC. Coordinators for this series are Jeff Hull (October) and Tim Davis and Brian Kim Stefans (November). Continuing support for this series is provided by the Segue Foundation. Funding is also made possible by support from the Literature Program of the New York State Council on the Arts. PLEASE SUPPORT THE EAR-COME EARLY FOR LUNCH, STAY LATE FOR DINNER! ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 11:28:55 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Mark Wallace Subject: Ruthless Grip Art Project Poetry Readings Here's the fall list of readings at D.C.'s Ruthless Grip Art Project: October 14--Bill Luoma and Jordan Davis November 11--An Evening of Sound Performance with Mike Basinski and members of the East Buffalo Media Association December 9--Juliana Spahr and Mary Hilton Ruthless Grip is located on U Street NW near the corner of 15th. All readings are Saturday nights at 7:30 p.m. Bridge Street Books (Rod Smith) and the DCAC Arts Center (Heather Fuller and Joe Ross) are also featuring reading series in D.C. this fall. Rod Smith and Joe Ross can be reached via the Poetics list. mark wallace ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 07:27:00 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Don Cheney Subject: twenty questions >Probably the less said about the language of life, and the more about >linebreak the better, but I'm guessing the new radio show out of > Buffalo won't have the kind of grant money PBS did, nor > would it use that money to produce a very slick set of > teacher's guides (including 18 poet cards--bigger and less > exciting than baseball cards). Outreach! they call it. > >Here are some "questions to think about" from the teacher's guide to > "The Language of Life" with Bill Moyers (with apologies to C > Forche, the only list member ((I think)) involved). High > school teachers will be asking these questions to future > citizens of our various polises (polices?) in the next few > weeks... Why is "what you dream up" deeper than what you know? I don't know. What will you do with your time? Besides renga-ing out, "Pinch me Alfredo and pass the hot sauce"? Why should you be suspicious of what you want? Because I want what I'm suspicious of. When did you last surprise wounds of your own this long time unmothered? The last meeting I attended at work. How _can_ we move toward one another? Try a little push-broom. How do you know if you can or can't sing? I cant. When do you catch sight of the promised land? It pokes out my brain and through my forehead. What have you been given for your poetry? A high-five from Bill Luoma. To what do you pledge allegiance? The doppelg nger of Double Cola. What is the "myself" that you want to be? An American Kestrel. What kind of satchel do you carry your poems in? More like, "What kind of Satchel do you carry your Paiges in?" How have you honored that floral apron? Hideo Nomo swats horseflies. When did you last forget _your_ distance? I never knew it. What are the circumstances in which you are reading the poem? Many. What would you aim your poems at? The inside part of the plate. What music is great enough to bring you back? Meat Puppets. What leads you back to a person you need to remember? Notes. What happened before you were born that still matters to you now? Castro. I'll be collecting your papers next Tuesday, typed, double spaced... Jordan >-- Saved internet headers (useful for debugging) >Received: from UBVM.cc.buffalo.edu by mail.ucsd.edu; id PAB09379 sendmail 8.6.1 >Received: from UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU by UBVM.cc.buffalo.edu (IBM VM SMTP V2R3) >Received: from UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU (NJE origin LISTSERV@UBVM) by UBVM.CC.BUFFAL >Received: from UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU by UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU (LISTSERV release >Received: from UBVM (NJE origin SMTP@UBVM) by UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU (LMail >Received: from emout05.mail.aol.com by UBVM.cc.buffalo.edu (IBM VM SMTP V2R3) >Received: by emout05.mail.aol.com (8.6.12/8.6.12) id SAA04509 for poet >Message-ID: <950912181044_97718327@emout05.mail.aol.com> >Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:10:46 -0400 >Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group >Sender: UB Poetics discussion group >From: "Jordan Davis." >Subject: twenty questions >To: Multiple recipients of list POETICS ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 11:54:29 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure > Sheila wrote >> Jorge wrote: >> >Sheila wrote >> >Jorge wrote: >> >Sheila wrote >> >Jorge wrote: >> >Sheila wrote: >> >Jorge wrote: >> > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >among the invoices and the difference engines >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 09:05:10 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: inquiry from the unlettered In-Reply-To: <199509130613.XAA14401@sparta.SJSU.EDU> Ed -- I know who Hal Foster is, but who the hell is this a. neilson guy? ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 09:10:41 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: rehire In-Reply-To: <199509130613.XAA14401@sparta.SJSU.EDU> Alan -- just out of curiousity -- weren't you guys trying to hire in postcolonial studies a few years back? Is this another try, or did somebody leave? I know one possible candidate here in the Bay area -- will tell him about it -- ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 12:51:21 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Steven Howard Shoemaker Subject: renga In-Reply-To: <199509130618.CAA160323@fermi.clas.Virginia.EDU> from "Automatic digest processor" at Sep 13, 95 00:01:27 am Well, I have to admit I "started" it. But i agree with Charles Alexander that that doesn't really make a helluva lot of difference. best, steve shoemaker "From: Thomas Bell Subject: renga Is no one going to take responsibility of initiating this whole thing. I would say that that person is in reality the author and they should be the one whose permission is needed" ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 09:24:33 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: unrenga the bell In-Reply-To: <199509130613.XAA14401@sparta.SJSU.EDU> I have read every word of every renga, and have not once contributed a line. I hereby grant permission to include my lurking presence in any and all future reproductions of said rengas unconditionally and in perpetuity. ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 13:11:18 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Rod Smith Subject: Re: twenty questions, sort of Rather like the question: >What are the circumstances in which you are reading the poem? More DC area readings coming up-- Carolyn Forche & Joan Retallack at The Writer's Center in Bethesda Oct. 22nd at 2 PM. Coming up at Ruthless Grip, near 15th & U, Oct 14-- Bill Luoma & Jordan Davis, Nov. 11-- Mike Basinski & members of his roving band, Dec 9-- Juliana Spahr & Mary Hilton, all readings begin at 7:30. --Rod ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 11:17:52 MDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Louis Cabri Subject: trued to sound a version of Tue, 12 Sep 1995 01:23:45 -0400 In the chooks ere reamed the dreams wear toques Flew to rue a doer's light ease by tine's din Worst cardinal lair Bowed asunder sun loud End less use rushing ruse finds Raving seeded to flee Placed tains moral-gauzed heads Coddle-ware spin dribblings But a row in the ear Fees top peddling owls "Heady crude" To each a cage ordered to compass A condiment Rice feasts toothed Undid in twos To hose an iffy haze Fussed into dialing lots Owls' edgy rental Linguent spread and heft Just proxy juices Guesses still lip to print a named rarity ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 10:22:48 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >The caravan of windows to what they flee >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >which explains why the pump is busted and why >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >among the invoices and the difference engines >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 13:09:41 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco Subject: Re: Entry Phrasing Is Stan's translation being published by HACKETT in Cambridge, Mass. by any chance? Just curious. daniel_bouchard@hmco.com Someone asked (rhetorically I believe) if Homer ever uses "I". So I asked my husband Stanley Lombardo and he responded: Yes, Homer does say "I" of himself, In Iliad 2, right before the catalogue of the ships. And in the first line of the Odyssey he says "me." (Stan's translation of the Iliad comes out next fall.) ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 17:48:45 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509130130.BAA10697@fraser.sfu.ca> > > George B wrote > > Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote > > Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote > > Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote: > > Jorge wrote: > > > > Sheila wrote: > > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > > eternity for moments to be of such suchness, > > to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. > > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > > conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers-- The Mothers of Pathos and Pity opened for them, & it was ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 17:57:25 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch In-Reply-To: On Tue, 12 Sep 1995, Scott Krieger wrote: > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > > through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > > > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > > > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > > > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > > > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > > > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > > > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > > > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > > > eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > > > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > > > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > > > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > > > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > > > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > > > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > > > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > > > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > > > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > > > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > > > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > > > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > > > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > > > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > > > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > > > of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti > in the black stone cavity behind the swamphouse where we keep > the papers with the blue seals and the green bottles gone rank i was chewing on the iguana and sister angelica on the cameo ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:08:07 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509130419.XAA00353@freedom.mtn.org> On Tue, 12 Sep 1995, Charles Alexander wrote: > >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > >>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident > >> kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > >> s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >> neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > >> sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >> big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > >> "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >> Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > >> texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > >> gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada > >> the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > >> day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > >> Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > >> eternity for moments to be of such suchness, > >> to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. > >> In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >> All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > >> of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >> Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >> recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > >> transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > >> switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >> considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > >> effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >> and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> among the invoices and the difference engines > >> Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > >> ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >> woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >> our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >> in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >> creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >> temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >> hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >> longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >> ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >> does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >> cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >> trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >> by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > >> conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers, > laying on rocks in the wind, dissonance the order of our day whereas earlier pieces had emphasized the slow brutality of time ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:25:20 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >among the invoices and the difference engines >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops threatening to have been arrested when the party wasn't looking and it's back to deuce. There's the lovely Mrs. Churchyard ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:28:33 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >The caravan of windows to what they flee >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >which explains why the pump is busted and why >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >among the invoices and the difference engines >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our repapered with farinaceous pictures of the king ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:21:59 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509130547.WAA10701@bob.indirect.com> Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote > >> Jorge wrote: > >> >Sheila wrote > >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >Sheila wrote > >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >Sheila wrote: > >> >Jorge wrote: > >> > > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >> >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> >among the invoices and the difference engines > >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops > threatening to have been arrested when the party wasn't looking > wanting to hitch a ride back to Los Genitales (in the boondocks) ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 09:32:08 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY Marcel Proust = rats crumple Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:33:04 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: fugazi redshifter approaching colossus > > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud > > >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds > > >The caravan of endowments to what they flee > > >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling > > >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! > > >Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing > > >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the > > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > >missing the violinist between her rests as she > > >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of > > >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass > > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making > > >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & > > >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house > > >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, > > >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit > > >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and > > >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence > > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the > > >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core > > >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout > > >eternity for solos to be of such suchness. > > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > >All models like films about their friends in pastel > > >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. > > >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and > > >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent > > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax > > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels > > >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging > > >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! > > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers > > >saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit > > >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom > > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress > > >which explains why the sump is busted and why > > >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that > > >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy > > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo > > >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use > > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance > > >among the choruses and the different people > > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey > > >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze > > >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, > > >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, > > >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. > > >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some > > >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep > > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which > > >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to > > >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his > > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized > > >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but > > >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses > > >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" > > >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons > > documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed > sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops > but my nerves are excellent tonight: I fired Mr. Churchyard in the coin-op kiln on Sullen Street with my Saint Chris ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:35:53 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: big local news > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > > eternity for moments to be of such suchness, > > to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. > > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > > conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers-- The Mothers of Pathos and Pity opened for them, & it was five o clock on a saturday, and the regular crowd shuffles in ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:36:07 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Taking mercy on the over-posted II In-Reply-To: <199509130609.XAA01826@well.com> (thanks Tom Bell for the idea) In books were dreams, etc, etc. ...................... to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal event of the first order observed by St. Petersburg poets on horses mounted on cardboard which i had given Park Place & two railroads for-- for the price Barnum %& Bailey began postmodernism with by not giving the auroras-of-autumn suckers an even break, but scratching Chickens Little little knew the red wheelie--he dead adieu to Force de Frappe. We are going with Club Dread this year ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:42:58 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509130602.XAA11060@bob.indirect.com> Sheila wrote > Chris wrote > >Jorge wrote: > >Sheila wrote > >Jorge wrote: > >Sheila wrote > >Jorge wrote: > >Sheila wrote: > >Jorge wrote: > > > >Sheila wrote: > > > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew (about 95 lines omitted) > >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > of cinched trousers, steel wool and classicists weeviling their way to train themselves as intensely sexual. They worked with oblong ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:48:13 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <9509131146.aa07065@post.demon.co.uk> Chris wrote > > Sheila wrote > >> Jorge wrote: > >> >Sheila wrote > >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >Sheila wrote > >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >Sheila wrote: > >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew (...) > >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops > that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:53:07 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch In-Reply-To: <199509131722.KAA07786@bob.indirect.com> EDITED FOR TELEVISION > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > >And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning > >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > >of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti > >starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go > crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our > anthological wrongings; i endured mereology for you & you alone ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:56:40 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: fugazi redshifter approaching colossus In-Reply-To: <950913183303_98723530@emout05.mail.aol.com> On Wed, 13 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > > > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > > >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud > > > >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds > > > >The caravan of endowments to what they flee > > > >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling > > > >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! > > > >Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing > > > >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the > > > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > > > >missing the violinist between her rests as she > > > >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of > > > >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass > > > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making > > > >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & > > > >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house > > > >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > > >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, > > > >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit > > > >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and > > > >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence > > > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the > > > >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core > > > >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout > > > >eternity for solos to be of such suchness. > > > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > > >All models like films about their friends in pastel > > > >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. > > > >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and > > > >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent > > > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax > > > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels > > > >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging > > > >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! > > > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers > > > >saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit > > > >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom > > > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress > > > >which explains why the sump is busted and why > > > >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that > > > >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy > > > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo > > > >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use > > > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance > > > >among the choruses and the different people > > > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey > > > >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze > > > >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, > > > >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, > > > >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. > > > >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some > > > >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep > > > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > > >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which > > > >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to > > > >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > > >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > > >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his > > > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized > > > >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but > > > >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses > > > >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" > > > >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons > > > documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed > > sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops > > but my nerves are excellent tonight: I fired Mr. Churchyard > in the coin-op kiln on Sullen Street with my Saint Chris & Heilige Anna slapping me because I said that Trakl liked treacle ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:59:25 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: big local news In-Reply-To: <950913183544_98725998@emout05.mail.aol.com> On Wed, 13 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > > through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > > The caravan of windows to what they flee > > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident > > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > > > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > > > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > > > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > > > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > > > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > > > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada > > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > > > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > > > eternity for moments to be of such suchness, > > > to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. > > > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > > > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > > > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > > > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > > > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > > which explains why the pump is busted and why > > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > > among the invoices and the difference engines > > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > > > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > > > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > > > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > > > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > > > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > > > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > > > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > > > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > > > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > > > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > > > conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers-- > The Mothers of Pathos and Pity opened for them, & it was > five o clock on a saturday, and the regular crowd shuffles in and the infirms of st james were dropping like flies ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 19:20:00 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Chris Scheil Subject: FWD: PLA Communique #32: VOCABULARY MODIFICATION PROPOGANDA In-Reply-To: 26 Auto-Fellatio: a child's game, believed to have originated in the American suburbs. Ballot: a unit of illicit currency, produced by the Rhodesian underground banking establishment as a supplement to legitimate coinage. Cranial: of or pertaining to narcolepsy and the symptoms thereof. Doric Column: a gallows tree. Also, a raised platform upon which the elderly are sometimes abandoned. Ergonomics: the science of sleep-control, pioneered by Lucus Cranach the Elder (1472-1553) Frontal-lobotamy: a cosmetic surgical technique, allowing the extrusion and sculptural molding of brain matter for aesthetic display. Glottal Stop: a method of torture, involving the forced introduction of super-heated pine resin into the abdominal cavity. Howitzer: a public sculpture. Incandescence: a small vulpine (Ondatra Zibethica), much valued for its luminescent pelt. Jimson-weed: indigenous plant (Datura Stramonium) of the North American Continent. Often used as a stimulant in the induction ceremonies of certain political cults. Knuckle: Gaelic word for a windfall of fish produced by the deployment of explosive material into shallow bodies of water.. Linseed oil: an epidermal solvent used by health advocates to remove unwanted skin. Mastication: an obsolete term for martyrdom. Nasturtium: any small eavesdropping device parasitically imbedded, implanted, or otherwise introduced into human flesh; often associated with many European intelligence agencies. Oncology: a short-lived Polish literary movement (1974-1981) Phallus: a joke. Also, the headgear of certain Andalusian clowns. Quisling: a small waterfowl, much valued in Austria as a culinary oddity. Rectum: large arched opening, through which commuters pass on their way to a boarding gate. Also, a security checkpoint. Sub-munitions: small, metallic abstract religious idols, often found on Bedouin open-air altars throughout the Middle-East. Thermos: small canoptic jar in which forensic urine samples are stored. Uterus: a cushion. Vivisectionist's Law: a key demographic principle involving media distribution in minority populations, vital to the development of modern electronic communications. War: an ancient ritual, presumed to demonstrate humankind's impatience with disease. Xenophobia: a popular game show on American television (1952-1968) Ziplock: official symbol of the American Medical Association, introduced (circa 1949) as a replacement for the well-known caduceus. --BEGIN TRANSMISSION|INSTRUCTIONS ENSUING-- This is an official communique of the PLA (Phonemic Liberation Army) & is intended to be distributed as educatinal propoganda to targetted intellectual communities (see Order-of-Battle Chart ENDYMION, Appendix 12) only. Any unauthorized distribution or cross-curricular circulation is to be reported to local cohort leaders immediately. VIVE LE BLAGUE! --END PLA TRANSMISSION-- ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 18:26:48 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Jordan Davis." Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >among the invoices and the difference engines >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to ach she's outside with the rummage, better get ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 11:49:49 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: Benson address Hi, I've lost track of Steve Benson for a while. Could you please send his snail address? Good luck with Ear Inn. I'd like to be there, but... best Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 11:46:30 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure Jorge Guitart wrote fairly recently: > >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > >>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident > >> kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > >> s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >> neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > >> sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >> big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > >> "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >> Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > >> texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > >> gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada > >> the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > >> day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > >> Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > >> eternity for moments to be of such suchness, > >> to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. > >> In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >> All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > >> of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >> Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >> recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > >> transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > >> switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >> considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > >> effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >> and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> among the invoices and the difference engines > >> Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > >> ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >> woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >> our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >> in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >> creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >> temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >> hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >> longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >> ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >> does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >> cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >> trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >> by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > >> conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers, > laying on rocks in the wind, dissonance the order of our day whereas earlier pieces had emphasized the slow brutality of time elephantine wrinkles, rocks turning grey, starving termites from Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 11:56:52 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: Marcel Revisited pst! " o " omitted in earlier post! Marcel Proust = crumple roast. Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 17:19:24 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: David Ayre Subject: dear listserv, Dear Listserv, SET POETICS FREE FOR INFO FRIENDS Yours, AVID DEARY ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 17:30:26 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: David Ayre Subject: Hello INFO friends... Hello INFO FRIENDS... I sit in sad repose as I put pen to paper concerning an issue I've found most deeply disturbing. (sigh) . . . I am not so sure i like this SUPER INFORMATION HIGHWAY after all. It hasn't been so super for me lately. Let me share with you my sweaty parting sorrows... I have just been forceably removed from 13 discussion lists including Small Engine and Firearms Repair, Cyber Ceramics, Online Touque Mending and Friends For Life. This list is my last refuge, my last hope.... And from what i've seen so far, things are lookin pretty good ! Bernstein, I, like you have a 8 x 11 picture I keep near to me. It's the picture of you on the cover of The Difficulties. Remember it ! Everyone, do you remember it ! You're sitting on that porch, a full head of hair all comfortably reclined with an "I just finished reading Ulysses and it only took an hour !" look on your face all casual with your junky jeans, shoddy vans with the droopy laces and a distinctly Canadian shirt. I keep your picture right next to my 40 x 20 enlargement of the Ron Silliman cigar chomping, crotch spread Difficulties Issue (they kept that one behind the counter...). Charles, every time I think about you, I touch my elf. I am proud to be a member of this list, discussing art farts ache. I will not fall prey to Mr. Killians horny whims, nor George Bowerings sleazy nerdisms! Rod Smith and Andrew Klobucar's epitaphical exagerations are boneheaded to say the least. As for for Mr. Levy, I have never been in the same room with ANYONE before never mind these people you name. Do you have PICTURES ?!#$!? HUH ! and who is this Dodie Bellamy person anyway ? Is she for REAL ? To sum it all up, I've had enough of you chauvinist fogeys. There are three points I need to make here. . . . And another thing! Andrew, does the word "SEMANTICS" mean anything to you? And, believe it or not, McKuen is the best-selling poet in modern publishing history. His 35 books of poetry have sold over 40 million copies. But bad news soon surfaced--I know we all share contempt for his popular books. McKuen had sold 40 thousand copies of his first volume, Stanyan Street & Other Sorrows, from his basement before being scooped up by a Random House. "what is with this david ayre ?", this Lapcourt farmhand, this great bundle of hair ! "what is with this david ayre ?", this avid deary with the dairy air I'm just trying to be friendly, tis all ! to all my info friends, so . . . O ! Mr. Killian, you might well just get me, or might as well just fist me (excuse me!) in the end.... yours, AVID DEARY p.s. I DID EVA DA DEER ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a mantranagram (for george as he remembers me) A DEAD YEAR ADD A DEAD DAY ADD A DEAD RIDE. (sigh) I DID-I-DID DA VARY ID ! A AVID ID DID RIDE DID RIDE A DEAR DEER DEAD A VARIED DAY I AD ! DARE I RIDE EVERY DAY A RED DEER EAR ID DA RADIADER (6 years later...) YEAR AD DER YEAR, ID ID DER A DEAD DEER EAR, DA AVID ID DID DUD ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 17:31:33 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: David Ayre Subject: Dear Listserv, Dear Listserv, SET POETICS LIST "NOT BORING" FOR JEFFREY TIMMONS Yours, AVID DEARY ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 20:28:45 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >>First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>The caravan of windows to what they flee >>These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >>halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>which explains why the pump is busted and why >>he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>among the invoices and the difference engines >>Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >>of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >>starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our words for water, falling four blocks away, finally, a gulf Charles Alexander Chax Press P.O. Box 19178 Minneapolis, MN 55419-0178 612-721-6063 (phone & fax) chax@mtn.org ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 12:58:47 GMT+1200 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Tony Green Organization: The University of Auckland Subject: ouch the post re S Benson address was meant for Bill Luoma. How did it go on the list????? Tony Green, e-mail: t.green@auckland.ac.nz ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 20:39:13 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >> > who wrote >> >you wrote: >> > I wrote >> > we wrote: >> > noone wrote >> > perhaps wrote: >> > forget wrote: >> > over wrote: >> > apparently wrote: >> > strumming wrote: >> > >> > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> > And flewthrough windows, lightning green and fine morning >> > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident >> > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada >> > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> > eternity for moments to be of such suchness, >> > to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. >> > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> > among the invoices and the difference engines >> > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> > conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers-- > The Mothers of Pathos and Pity opened for them, & it was unnerving, the legs unto themselves, pressing upon their ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 20:42:15 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >On another day in the year to come, perhaps 5, a person of unknown origins wrote: > >> >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> >> And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >> & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident >> >> kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >> gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >> flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> >> s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >> (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> >> neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> >> sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> >> big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> >> "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> >> Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> >> texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> >> gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada >> >> the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> >> day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> >> Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> >> eternity for moments to be of such suchness, >> >> to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. >> >> In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> >> All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> >> of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> >> Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> >> recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> >> transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> >> switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> >> considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >> flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> >> effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >> through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >> petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >> alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> >> and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >> saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >> out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >> inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >> uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >> which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >> he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >> crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >> capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >> prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >> start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >> heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >> of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >> I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >> among the invoices and the difference engines >> >> Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >> collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >> delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >> of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> >> ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >> woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >> our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >> in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >> creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >> temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >> hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >> longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >> ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >> does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >> cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >> trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> >> by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> >> conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers, >> laying on rocks in the wind, dissonance the order of our day > whereas earlier pieces had emphasized the slow brutality of time before it is sold, Orson, strange buds in snow, hair again ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 20:45:42 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure > wrote wrote >> wrote wrote >> >wrote wrote: >> >wrote wrote >> >wrote wrote: >> >wrote wrote >> >wrote wrote: >> >wrote wrote: >> >wrote wrote: >> >wrote wrote: >> >wrote wrote: >> > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > > (about 95 lines omitted) > >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> of cinched trousers, steel wool and classicists weeviling their way to > train themselves as intensely sexual. They worked with oblong penises, wondering where peaches came from, the ground ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 01:01:26 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: C.Rodriquez:San Andres VI: The Balance Shifts, Sep 12 Date: Wed, 13 Sep 95 08:42:18 CDT San Andres VI- The Balance Shifts by Cecilia Rodriguez National Center for Democracy, Liberty, and Justice "Lies, deceits, falsehoods; none of this wiII achieve any thing. The lies, the threats , the accusations can only bring us to defeat and take us down the wrong road. Only the truth which walks in our heart can lead us to a just and dignified peace." Comandante David Zapatista Delegation-CCRI-CG Historically, the peace talks achieved a duration of seven days. The government delegation appeared together with the Zapatistas for a photo opportunity. They also responded to a Zapatista proposal with applause. And the traditional indigenous discretion born of 500 years of resistance received these historic firsts with measured optimism, and a skepticism born of too many betrayals. Standing and waiting through a diligent rain which soaks through the most impermeable material, the observers and the civilians who stand in the peace cordons watch incredulously. Can it be that the talks which have been stalled for months will produce tangible progress? Is it possible that a day will be possible whose dawn will bring the beginning of the end to this terrible siege? The long nights shifted between those where stars were visible in the sky and a fog so thick that it erased everything in view. *********************************************************** With a massive force of volunteers, little or no money, and a timeline of approximately 8 weeks, the plebiscite of the EZLN was the most numerous in Mexico's history; 1,088,094 ballots. It gave voice to what the Mexican government had hoped would be silent or non-existent; national public interest and sympathy with the demands of the EZLN. The EZLN celebrated the accomplishment with a party; Zapatista style. A meeting where the official results of the Consulta were reviewed was held in a small village reached by vehicles eventually left in the mud. The rain did not stop until the ground was a large brown puddle. The speeches reviewed activities in the different states and internationally. ." Later the crowd from the cities swarmed into a medium-sized building. At 9 p.m. it settled into an awed silence as the masked Zapatistas crowded into one end of the room. "We had prepared a special program but you arrived very late" said one of them. "Now we want to ask your permission, shall we present the program or are you alI going to leave?" The audience stayed and the Zapatistas presented 3 folkloric dances and 3 songs. Then the party went on, because the room was warm and the applause was loud. More folkloric dances were presented with Fin del Olvido introduced by a masked young woman strewing flower petals on the dirt floor. Then the audience began to present poems and songs. Their voices filled with emotion, their faces wreathed in smiles. It was hard to tell who had received the best gift; the results of the consulta presented to the Zapatistas or the sight of masked young men and women who for the moment sang and danced. The party continued until midnight. It celebrated life in the midst of death, the joy of struggle, the warmth of companionship, the certainty that in spite of alI the media clamor to the contrary, a process had just begun. The government of course argues that the Consulta did not result in the numbers expected, that it did not ask whether the EZLN should lay down its arms, nor about the ability of the EZLN to represent the people of Mexico. Miraculously however, the talks which the Zapatistas had called exhausted, continued for an historic seven days. ********************************************************************** ****************************** If extremes are the only viable justification for change in society, then Mexico certainly qualifies. Even Zedillo's State of the Union address could do little to hide the savagery of present economic policies. There about 8 million people in Mexico's informal economy, 5 million more who earn only one-third of what is considered necessary to support a minimum standard of life. In order to have a minimal response to the need for jobs Mexico's economy must grow by 4% per year. In Mexico City, 70,000 children under the age of 5 suffer severe malnutrition, a number which has been multiplied six times over the past 20 years. Only one-fifth of the 670,000 people who are over the age of 65 have a pension. Steel and autoworkers in Mexico must work 2- 2.5 hours to earn enough to buy a two pound chicken (in the US they only have to work about 9 minutes to buy a chicken). In 1995, Mexico recorded 9,712 cases of cholera with 110 deaths, and 38 cases of hemorrhagic dengue so far. In 1995 Mexico will pay out $57,756,000 dollars on its foreign debt, which is a number 204% higher than everything paid from 1821-1976 on foreign debt. Certainly the achievement of a social transformation capable of altering these statistics will be a difficult painful and long process, something which the Zapatistas clearly understand. The review of the litany of human suffering through numbers can sometimes elicit a human response. The numbers at the opposite pole are even more dramatic. There are numbers with many zeros to represent the wealth of select individuals who remain power to the brutal detriment of millions. Shock, dismay, tension, empathy; these are the emotions necessary to elicit the attention or the media, the gut reaction of the majority of the public. Yet the silent determination of hundreds of campesinos in the militarized villages and the patient labor of the Zapatista delegation go unnoticed, In this age of commercialized emotions. To understand the trajectory of the Zapatistas requires a different mindset, one which goes beyond simplistic formulations of power, one which challenges the distance between many of us and the human family. At 2 a.m. when the mist was especially cold and wet I turned to another international observer and asked, "TeII me something, can you imagine people in the United States leaving home and family and standing all night in the rain? What do you think would move people like this?' "Frankly nothing.. l can't imagine such a thing...maybe only something which was a direct threat to the well-being of their families...maybe ." The Zapatistas have distinguished themselves in history by being willing to advance it, by allowing and fighting for a democratic space in which the people of Mexico can re-discover each other and themselves. This space was first constructed in Aguascalientes, Chiapas and carved out of the mountain with loving hands. It was filled by a people, groping to find a different way, a way beyond parties, dogmas, and the socialization of 65 years of centralized government. The space widened in the simple process of the Consulta, which gave people basic experience in the vague notion of "democracy"' that social concept expropriated by demagogues and berated by those who believe it should be neater and more efficient. The Zapatistas know that that space will be rarefied if combat should begin, that to construct a social vision common to 90 million people will require much more than bullets and uniforms. It will require dialogue, the exchange of ideas and concepts, time, experience, and the growing participation of millions; none of which can be easily pursued in open combat. It will require a new consciousness from those in the civilian and international movement, one which allows new energy, ideas and methods of work to evolve. As far as the EZLN is concerned, it is the fact that reason and not rage or hunger for power dominates their decisions, that the willingness to sit at the negotiating table exists. Official government broadcasts on September 11th announced " The EZLN and the federal government have reached their first peace agreement." For seven days the Zapatista delegates sat at the table for 10-12 hours with the government. Then, in short hurried meetings until 2 or 3a.m., they met with countless delegations from around the country and the world to share their thirst for justice and a peace with dignity. What the government claims is their achievement is in reality a proposal made by the EZLN months ago. This round established rules for procedure and a basic agenda for the negotiations but it is a misrepresentation to say that a "first peace agreement' has been reached. It is procedures which has been agreed on by both parties, subject to change and far from a substantive theme such as a proposal to reduce military tensions, something which would do a great deal to re-establish the confidence of the EZLN in the dialogue. Progress is visible however in the apparent willingness of the government to discuss "national" issues with the EZLN, although a specific proposal from Zedillo was at one point refuted by his own negotiator, Marcos Antonio Bernal. The strategy of low-intensity warfare however remains the choice of the Mexican government and is a preference for the Pentagon as well. It remains a war of nerves, a war against civilians, a war which the state-party system continues to wage with impunity. After the massacre of 18 campesinos in the state of Guerrero, its people called for the removal and indictment of the governor. The PRI announced there is "insufficient" evidence. As the elections in Chiapas approach two incidents in the villages of Tila and Nuevo Limar have left 4-5 people dead, and dozens of houses burned to the ground by PRI members and the local police. The violence promulgated by profound poverty, centralized authoritarian rule and government-sanctioned repression has not ceased. In spite of dozens of government proclamations for peace, there is little change except cosmetic gestures of reform. Most of the people of Mexico know this. At the grassroots, in rural and urban communities, a fierce, implacable determination grows, a patient faith, a hope which burns and spreads in spite of all the propaganda, the terror and the manipulation. Indeed a process has just begun. ********************************************************************** ***************************** To show our support for the Zapatistas the National Commission for Democracy in Mexico, USA has a made a call for "An International Act of Resistance in Support of Democracy in the Americas" for October 9- 12 in Washington D.C. The Act is also a call to demonstrate our outrage at, and rejection of, the neoliberal policies of the PRI government, promoted and supported by the government of the United States. In addition the Act is a call to express our support for the civic society which has committed to struggle for the 16 demands proposed by the EZLN and for a dialogue with respect and dignity that would create the possibility of a Mexico that is genuinely free, just and democratic for everyone. The fact that the United States government and financial interests are directly manipulating events in Mexico implies that they are also responsible for the misery and deaths of the people of Mexico. The participation of the United States in maintaining millions of Mexicans in subhuman conditions implies that those of us who live here, who believe in justice, liberty and democracy, have an immense responsibility to struggle and mobilize against this policy of hunger and death. We can not allow the liberating light that shines from the mountains of Mexico's southeast to be extinguished. To do this, we ask that you make every effort to join us October 9-12, in Washington, D.C. in this historic opportunity to stand with the Zapatistas, and to let those in power know that reason and a peaceful transition to democracy must remain a viable alternative in Mexico. NATIONAL COMMISSION FOR DEMOCRACY IN MEXICO, USA 601 N. Cotton Street, #A103 El Paso, Texas 79902 (915) 532-8382 moonlight@igc.apc.org ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 06:58:38 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <950913182647_98717738@mail04.mail.aol.com> On Wed, 13 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >> >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> >among the invoices and the difference engines > >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops > that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to > ach she's outside with the rummage, better get to the nudes before they start using the subjunctif ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 01:36:04 MDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Louis Cabri Subject: spike it with saussure - begins the intramix... In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew through windows '95 Marlin Loins lightning green, a fine morning First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds The caravan of endowments to what they flee These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! Airy Hemp Lush over coffee copped a kiss, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind missing the violinist between her rests as she indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass s halfway pertinent incision we keep making (I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, "Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence the chair is sad, alas, Inroad Mama, i've lusted tootles' livers the detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core slaughter because we're waiting all throughout eternity for solos to be of such suchness - Relaxed Renal Scar in the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All models like films about their friends in pastel of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers Groin Going Boo saunters pentecostal, operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress which explains why the sump is busted and why he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance among the choruses and the different people Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops but my nerves are excellent tonight: Check Sire in the coin-op kiln on Sullen Street with my Saint Chris ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 23:27:58 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >EDITED FOR TELEVISION > > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> >And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> >of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >> >starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >> crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our >> anthological wrongings; i endured mereology for you & you alone because the blanched things can endure only this much crush ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 23:25:51 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure Jorge wrote: > Chris wrote >> > Sheila wrote >> >> Jorge wrote: >> >> >Sheila wrote >> >> >Jorge wrote: >> >> >Sheila wrote >> >> >Jorge wrote: >> >> >Sheila wrote: >> >> >Jorge wrote: >> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > (...) > >> >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops >> that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to > say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer than a clam can sleeve out of incarceration baldly ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 23:23:59 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: fugazi redshifter approaching colossus >> > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> > >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud >> > >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds >> > >The caravan of endowments to what they flee >> > >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling >> > >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! >> > >Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing >> > >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the >> > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> > >missing the violinist between her rests as she >> > >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of >> > >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass >> > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making >> > >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & >> > >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house >> > >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> > >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, >> > >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit >> > >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and >> > >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence >> > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the >> > >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core >> > >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout >> > >eternity for solos to be of such suchness. >> > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> > >All models like films about their friends in pastel >> > >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. >> > >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and >> > >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent >> > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax >> > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels >> > >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging >> > >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! >> > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers >> > >saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit >> > >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom >> > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress >> > >which explains why the sump is busted and why >> > >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that >> > >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy >> > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo >> > >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use >> > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance >> > >among the choruses and the different people >> > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey >> > >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze >> > >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, >> > >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, >> > >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. >> > >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some >> > >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep >> > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> > >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which >> > >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to >> > >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> > >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> > >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his >> > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized >> > >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but >> > >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses >> > >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" >> > >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons >> > documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed >> sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops >> but my nerves are excellent tonight: I fired Mr. Churchyard >in the coin-op kiln on Sullen Street with my Saint Chris medal and a polo shirt and muck to rake and neighbors as non-carnivores ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 23:22:39 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure Jorge wrote: > Sheila wrote >> Jorge wrote: >> > Sheila wrote >> >> Jorge wrote: >> >> >Sheila wrote >> >> >Jorge wrote: >> >> >Sheila wrote >> >> >Jorge wrote: >> >> >Sheila wrote: >> >> >Jorge wrote: >> >> > >> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> >> >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >> >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >> >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >> >among the invoices and the difference engines >> >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops >> threatening to have been arrested when the party wasn't looking >> wanting to hitch a ride back to Los Genitales (in the boondocks) via dendrites to the fourteenth power gleaned from the recent mitten convention ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 20:43:23 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jeffrey Timmons Subject: Re: Dear Listserv, In-Reply-To: On Wed, 13 Sep 1995, David Ayre wrote: > Dear Listserv, > > SET POETICS LIST "NOT BORING" FOR JEFFREY TIMMONS > Yours, > > AVID DEARY Whew! Jeffrey Timmons ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:42:58 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: big local news >> > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident >> > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada >> > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> > eternity for moments to be of such suchness, >> > to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. >> > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> > among the invoices and the difference engines >> > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> > conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers-- > The Mothers of Pathos and Pity opened for them, & it was >five o clock on a saturday, and the regular crowd shuffles in for waffles and stones, alfalfa fields away where we remember ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 20:02:07 -0800 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: klobucar Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY ****************************************************************** * * * * * DAVID AYRE 1970-1992 * * * * * * THE WORLD WAS YOUR OYSTER * * * * * ****************************************************************** ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:40:28 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: fugazi redshifter approaching colossus >> > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> > >And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> > >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud >> > >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds >> > >The caravan of endowments to what they flee >> > >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling >> > >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! >> > >Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing >> > >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the >> > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> > >missing the violinist between her rests as she >> > >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of >> > >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass >> > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making >> > >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & >> > >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house >> > >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> > >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, >> > >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit >> > >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and >> > >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence >> > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the >> > >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core >> > >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout >> > >eternity for solos to be of such suchness. >> > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> > >All models like films about their friends in pastel >> > >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. >> > >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and >> > >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent >> > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax >> > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels >> > >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging >> > >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! >> > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers >> > >saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit >> > >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom >> > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress >> > >which explains why the sump is busted and why >> > >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that >> > >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy >> > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo >> > >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use >> > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance >> > >among the choruses and the different people >> > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey >> > >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze >> > >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, >> > >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, >> > >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. >> > >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some >> > >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep >> > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> > >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which >> > >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to >> > >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> > >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> > >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his >> > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized >> > >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but >> > >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses >> > >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" >> > >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons >> > documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed >> sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops >> but my nerves are excellent tonight: I fired Mr. Churchyard >in the coin-op kiln on Sullen Street with my Saint Chris and Aunt Liz and the Fly-bys tracing circles on marimbas ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:37:31 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure > ack wrote >> nod wrote: >> > tof wrote >> >>qom wrote: >> >> >fla wrote >> >> >fre wrote: >> >> >gli wrote >> >> >lum wrote: >> >> >tra wrote: >> >> >pim wrote: >> >> > >> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> >> >And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee >> >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >> >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >> >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why >> >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> >> >among the invoices and the difference engines >> >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops >> threatening to have been arrested when the party wasn't looking >> wanting to hitch a ride back to Los Genitales (in the boondocks) (in the straight and harrow) (furrow my trousers) (content to lasso) ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:33:25 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >>> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>> >And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >>> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>> >The caravan of windows to what they flee >>> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >>> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>> >which explains why the pump is busted and why >>> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>> >among the invoices and the difference engines >>> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops >that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to >ach she's outside with the rummage, better get than given to string theory's ravage of the bitter weeds ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 20:31:38 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Tryst In-Reply-To: <950913182647_98717738@mail04.mail.aol.com> from "Jordan Davis." at Sep 13, 95 06:26:48 pm Wystan Curnow = Curs Wont Yawn ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:30:50 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: big local news >On Wed, 13 Sep 1995, Jordan Davis. wrote: > >> > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> > > And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident >> > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> > > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> > > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> > > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> > > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> > > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> > > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> > > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> > > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> > > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada >> > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> > > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> > > eternity for moments to be of such suchness, >> > > to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. >> > > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> > > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> > > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> > > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> > > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> > > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> > > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> > > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> > > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> > > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> > > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> > > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> > > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> > > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> > > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> > > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> > > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> > > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> > > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> > > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> > > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> > > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> > > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> > > conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers-- >> The Mothers of Pathos and Pity opened for them, & it was >> five o clock on a saturday, and the regular crowd shuffles in > and the infirms of st james were dropping like flies or stopping on dimes, fraying the edge of the concrete's willing ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:28:52 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >>First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>The caravan of windows to what they flee >>These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >>halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>which explains why the pump is busted and why >>he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>among the invoices and the difference engines >>Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >>of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >>starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our >repapered with farinaceous pictures of the king in her plummeting financial avocadoes, worrying the morning ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:26:59 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >EDITED FOR TELEVISION > > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> >And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> >of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >> >starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >> crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our >> anthological wrongings; i endured mereology for you & you alone provided the weather warnings, strapped to my lips in vain ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:25:39 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >>> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>> >And flewthrough windows, lightning green and fine morning >>> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>> >The caravan of windows to what they flee >>> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >>> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>> >which explains why the pump is busted and why >>> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>> >among the invoices and the difference engines >>> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops >threatening to have been arrested when the party wasn't looking >and it's back to deuce. There's the lovely Mrs. Churchyard in her garden pruning peas, where she will go next, who does she please ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 22:23:51 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >On Tue, 12 Sep 1995, Scott Krieger wrote: > >> > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >> > > wrotethrough windows, lightning green and fine morning >> > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >> > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> > > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> > > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> > > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> > > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> > > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> > > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> > > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> > > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> > > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >> > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> > > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> > > eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >> > > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> > > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> > > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> > > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> > > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> > > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> > > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> > > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >> > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> > > among the invoices and the difference engines >> > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> > > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> > > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> > > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> > > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> > > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> > > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> > > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> > > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> > > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> > > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> > > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> > > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> > > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> > > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> > > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> > > of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >> in the black stone cavity behind the swamphouse where we keep >> the papers with the blue seals and the green bottles gone rank > i was chewing on the iguana and sister angelica on the cameo cookie fortitude of night's flying sisters telling unmentionable ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 19:56:08 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: renga In-Reply-To: <199509131651.MAA80788@fermi.clas.Virginia.EDU> from "Steven Howard Shoemaker" at Sep 13, 95 12:51:21 pm Okay, I will 'fess up. I started the renga, but I never thought it wd catch on. I was expecting at most a sonnet. GB ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 19:53:51 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch In-Reply-To: <199509131722.KAA07786@bob.indirect.com> from "Sheila E. Murphy" at Sep 13, 95 10:22:48 am > > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > >And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning > >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian bluejay, it binds > >The caravan of windows to what they flee > >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed oriole > >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's > >halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >All melded like striated tigers left over in the pastel seeds > >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >considered shrill as cubs left in the acres to be aging > >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >pirates free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >which explains why the pump is busted and why > >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >among the padres and the difference engines > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >of narration with giants of good moisture. Here,touch my > >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >as penitence, but let's elude the indians and drear, get lost in > >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >creeping where the sublime is marlins bathing in starlight. Give > >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >ingratiates politicos and blond twins also shaven vortices but > >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > >of swirling mariners with beaucoup of labia & confetti > >starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go > >crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our > >taxi purred at the doorway, pools of gasoline underfoot ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 00:42:18 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: this break or make will or will not not branch by rote Jorge wrote: >> >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >> The caravan of windows to what they flee >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >> Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >> & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >> gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >> flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >> s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >> (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >> neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >> sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >> "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >> texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >> gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >> the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >> day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >> Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >> eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >> In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >> of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >> Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >> recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >> transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >> switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >> considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >> flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >> effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >> saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >> out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >> inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >> which explains why the pump is busted and why >> he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >> crap about not having a cousin on the moon >> capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >> of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >> I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >> among the invoices and the difference engines >> Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >> collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >> delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >> of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >> ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >> woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >> in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >> creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >> longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >> ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >> does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >> cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >> trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >> by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >> of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti addressed from a lens to debris. Who truncated black's palette? ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 00:50:24 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning >>First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>The caravan of windows to what they flee >>These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >>halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>which explains why the pump is busted and why >>he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>among the invoices and the difference engines >>Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >>of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >>starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our eco-store with Mona wash and circa navigate the horn ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 10:20:42 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Judy Roitman Subject: Re: Entry Phrasing >Is Stan's translation being published by HACKETT in Cambridge, Mass. by any >chance? >Just curious. >daniel_bouchard@hmco.com > > > Yes. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Judy Roitman, Math, University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS 66045, 913-864-4630 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 08:44:05 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch On Thursday, Sept 14, Charles Alexander wrote >>On Tue, 12 Sep 1995, Scott Krieger wrote: >> >>> > > In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>> > > wrotethrough windows, lightning green and fine morning >>> > > First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>> > > The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>> > > Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>> > > The caravan of windows to what they flee >>> > > These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>> > > Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>> > > but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>> > > Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>> > > & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>> > > bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>> > > kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>> > > gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>> > > flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >>> > > s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>> > > (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>> > > neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>> > > sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>> > > big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>> > > "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>> > > Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>> > > texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>> > > gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>> > > the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>> > > day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>> > > Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>> > > eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>> > > In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>> > > All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>> > > of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>> > > Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>> > > recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>> > > transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>> > > switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>> > > considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>> > > flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>> > > effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>> > > through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>> > > petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>> > > alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>> > > and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>> > > saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>> > > out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>> > > inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>> > > uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>> > > which explains why the pump is busted and why >>> > > he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>> > > crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>> > > capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>> > > prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>> > > start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>> > > heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>> > > of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>> > > I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>> > > among the invoices and the difference engines >>> > > Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>> > > collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>> > > delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>> > > of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>> > > ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>> > > I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>> > > woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>> > > as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>> > > our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>> > > in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>> > > creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>> > > temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>> > > hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>> > > longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>> > > ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>> > > does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>> > > cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>> > > trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>> > > demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>> > > by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >>> > > of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >>> in the black stone cavity behind the swamphouse where we keep >>> the papers with the blue seals and the green bottles gone rank >> i was chewing on the iguana and sister angelica on the cameo >cookie fortitude of night's flying sisters telling unmentionable prophecies that sound like silk when mispronounced, that sound like ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 08:46:00 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: spike it with saussure - begins the intramix... >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew >through windows '95 Marlin Loins lightning green, a fine morning >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds >The caravan of endowments to what they flee >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! Airy >Hemp Lush over coffee copped a kiss, the Times blowing >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >missing the violinist between her rests as she >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence >the chair is sad, alas, Inroad Mama, i've lusted tootles' livers >the >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the >core >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout >eternity for solos to be of such suchness - Relaxed >Renal Scar in the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >All models like films about their friends in pastel >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers >Groin Going Boo saunters pentecostal, operator will you cockpit >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress >which explains why the sump is busted and why >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance >among the choruses and the different people >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be >canonized >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" >expenses >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons >documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed >sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops >but my nerves are excellent tonight: Check Sire >in the coin-op kiln on Sullen Street with my Saint Chris pendant and my legroom pedalled to half willing mendicants ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 08:48:37 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >>>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >>>First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>>The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>>Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>>The caravan of windows to what they flee >>>These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>>Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>>but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>>Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>>& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>>bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>>kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>>gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>>flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >>>halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>>(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>>neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>>sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>>big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>>"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>>Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>>texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>>gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>>the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>>day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>>Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>>eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>>In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>>All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>>of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>>Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>>recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>>transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>>switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>>considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>>flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>>effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>>through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>>petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>>alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>>and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>>saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>>out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>>inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>>uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>>which explains why the pump is busted and why >>>he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>>crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>>capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>>prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>>start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>>heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>>of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>>I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>>among the invoices and the difference engines >>>Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>>collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>>delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>>of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>>ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>>I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>>woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>>as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>>our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>>in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>>creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>>temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>>hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>>longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>>ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>>does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>>cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>>trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>>demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>>by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >>>of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >>>starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >>crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our >>repapered with farinaceous pictures of the king >in her plummeting financial avocadoes, worrying the morning with a pinch of salt and chronicling the echo lettuce shortbread plaited shrill as ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 00:42:46 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >chris wrote: >>>>S&J's excellent adventure sans chevrons >>> >>Jorge wrote: >>Sheila wrote >>Jorge wrote: >>Sheila wrote >>Jorge wrote: >>Sheila wrote: >>Jorge wrote: >> >>Sheila wrote: >> >>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >>through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >>First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>The caravan of windows to what they flee >>These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' >>s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>which explains why the pump is busted and why >>he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>among the invoices and the difference engines >>Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >of cinched trousers, steel wool and classicists weeviling their way to transliterate counters for glimpses of millionaire stools put ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 08:44:03 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >>>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning >>>First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>>The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>>Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>>The caravan of windows to what they flee >>>These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>>Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>>but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>>Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>>& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>>bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >>>kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she >>>gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of >>>flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's >>>halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance >>>(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & >>>neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house >>>sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >>>big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, >>>"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >>>Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the >>>texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and >>>gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience >>>the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor >>>day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore >>>Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout >>>eternity for moments to be of such suchness. >>>In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >>>All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds >>>of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. >>>Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and >>>recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent >>>transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu >>>switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles >>>considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging >>>flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet >>>effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >>>through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >>>petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >>>alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >>>and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes >>>saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit >>>out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom >>>inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >>>uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum >>>which explains why the pump is busted and why >>>he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that >>>crap about not having a cousin on the moon >>>capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >>>prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >>>start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >>>heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose >>>of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use >>>I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative >>>among the invoices and the difference engines >>>Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there >>>collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze >>>delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house >>>of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my >>>ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. >>>I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some >>>woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep >>>as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >>>our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which >>>in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to >>>creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>>temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>>hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>>longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>>ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>>does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>>cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>>trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>>demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>>by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >>>of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >>>starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >>crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our >words for water, falling four blocks away, finally, a gulf between perceived and rinsing water, shroud and comforter, ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 15:18:51 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: On Thu, 14 Sep 1995, Tony Green wrote: > Jorge Guitart wrote fairly recently: > > >> In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > > >>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning > > >> First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > > >> The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > > >> Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > > >> The caravan of windows to what they flee > > >> These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > > >> Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > > >> but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > > >> Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > > >> & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > > >> bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind accident > > >> kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > > >> gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > > >> flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > > >> s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > > >> (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > > >> neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > > >> sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > > >> big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > > >> "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > > >> Roof" Tobacco warehouse, nada curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > > >> texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > > >> gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience y pues nada > > >> the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > > >> day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > > >> Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > > >> eternity for moments to be of such suchness, > > >> to hold a rattle up, to eat our mommies. > > >> In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > > >> All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > > >> of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > > >> Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > > >> recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > > >> transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > > >> switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > > >> considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > > >> flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > > >> effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > > >> through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > > >> petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > > >> alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > > >> and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > > >> saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > > >> out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > > >> inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > > >> uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > > >> which explains why the pump is busted and why > > >> he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > > >> crap about not having a cousin on the moon > > >> capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > > >> prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > > >> start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > > >> heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > > >> of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > > >> I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > > >> among the invoices and the difference engines > > >> Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > > >> collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > > >> delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > > >> of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > > >> ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > > >> I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > > >> woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > > >> as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > > >> our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > > >> in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > > >> creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > > >> temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > > >> hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > > >> longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > > >> ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > > >> does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > > >> cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > > >> trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > > >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > > >> by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > > >> conducted by William Carlos Williams & the Five Snorers, > > laying on rocks in the wind, dissonance the order of our day > whereas earlier pieces had emphasized the slow brutality of time > elephantine wrinkles, rocks turning grey, starving termites from > thinking too much about the dolor of papel clips and mucilage > ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 15:29:18 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Chax, Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509140145.UAA13934@freedom.mtn.org> On Wed, 13 Sep 1995, Charles Wrote Alexander aka Charles Rote,wrote & wrote > > wrote wrote > >> wrote wrote > >> >wrote wrote: > >> >wrote wrote > >> >wrote wrote: > >> >wrote wrote > >> >wrote wrote: > >> >wrote wrote: > >> >wrote wrote: > >> >wrote wrote: > >> >wrote wrote: > >> > > >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > > > > (about 95 lines omitted) > > > >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >> >demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >> >by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast > >> of cinched trousers, steel wool and classicists weeviling their way to > > train themselves as intensely sexual. They worked with oblong > penises, wondering where peaches came from, the ground filled with folks from the cixous fan club who thought elle sent bon meant ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 15:33:54 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509140625.XAA04801@bob.indirect.com> Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > > Chris wrote > >> > Sheila wrote > >> >> Jorge wrote: > >> >> >Sheila wrote > >> >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >> >Sheila wrote > >> >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >> >Sheila wrote: > >> >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > > > > (...) > > > >> >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >> >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >> >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >> >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >> >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >> >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >> >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops > >> that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to > > say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer > than a clam can sleeve out of incarceration baldly > but who can prevent the Musical Elbows from talking shop ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 10:32:54 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: John Cayley Subject: RENGA SUGGESTION (PLEA! FREE US UP!) 1) Quote only the last two or three previous lines of the Renga to which you are adding. -- with a little *local* editing you would be able to keep complete copies on your own machines, and this will leave the list a *lot* less cluttered for the rest. [Remember, some of us pay for access to the net.] 2) ? Strict(er) use of subject lines to identify branchings. - - - - - - John Cayley Wellsweep Press [in Chinese HZ: ~{?-U\02~} ~{=[i@3v0fIg~}] ^ fine, innovative literary translation from Chinese ^ 1 Grove End House 150 Highgate Road London NW5 1PD UK Tel & Fax: 0171-267 3525 Email: cayley@shadoof.demon.co.uk 1995 URLs: http://www.inforamp.net/~cayley [= home] + /wshome.html [= Wellsweep] + /inhome.html [= Indra's Net] - - - - - - ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 15:45:26 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: fugazi redshifter approaching colossus In-Reply-To: <199509140623.XAA04629@bob.indirect.com> > >> > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >> > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >> > >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> > >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud > >> > >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds > >> > >The caravan of endowments to what they flee > >> > >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> > >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling > >> > >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! > >> > >Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing > >> > >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the > >> > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> > >missing the violinist between her rests as she > >> > >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of > >> > >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass > >> > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making > >> > >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & > >> > >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house > >> > >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >> > >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, > >> > >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >> > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit > >> > >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and > >> > >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence > >> > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the > >> > >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core > >> > >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout > >> > >eternity for solos to be of such suchness. > >> > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >> > >All models like films about their friends in pastel > >> > >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. > >> > >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and > >> > >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent > >> > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax > >> > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels > >> > >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging > >> > >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! > >> > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >> > >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers > >> > >saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit > >> > >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom > >> > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> > >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress > >> > >which explains why the sump is busted and why > >> > >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that > >> > >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy > >> > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> > >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo > >> > >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use > >> > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance > >> > >among the choruses and the different people > >> > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey > >> > >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze > >> > >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, > >> > >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, > >> > >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. > >> > >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some > >> > >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep > >> > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >> > >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which > >> > >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to > >> > >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >> > >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >> > >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his > >> > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized > >> > >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but > >> > >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses > >> > >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" > >> > >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons > >> > documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed > >> sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops > >> but my nerves are excellent tonight: I fired Mr. Churchyard > >in the coin-op kiln on Sullen Street with my Saint Chris > medal and a polo shirt and muck to rake and neighbors as non-carnivores as non-halluces, but Tristram was pawing Isoleucine right in there ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 15:52:22 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco Subject: Renga and the Far Write Jorge: Try to spend at least a couple of hours away from the computer screen. Isn't the weather nice where you are? Get outside a little. You're going to renga your health at this rate. daniel_bouchard@hmco.com ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 15:39:10 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509140622.XAA04622@bob.indirect.com> Sheila wrote > Jorge wrote: > > Sheila wrote > >> Jorge wrote: > >> > Sheila wrote > >> >> Jorge wrote: > >> >> >Sheila wrote > >> >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >> >Sheila wrote > >> >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >> >Sheila wrote: > >> >> >Jorge wrote: > >> >> > > >> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >> >> >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning > >> >> >First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar > >> >> >The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud > >> >> >Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds > >> >> >The caravan of windows to what they flee > >> >> >These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more > >> >> >Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling > >> >> >but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago > >> >> >Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing > >> >> >& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the > >> >> >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind > >> >> >kissing the weatherwoman between her beasts as she > >> >> >gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of > >> >> >flicka son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water' > >> >> >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance > >> >> >(inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & > >> >> >neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house > >> >> >sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a > >> >> >big tango when the attorney general came, selah hales said, > >> >> >"Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Ellington! "Tootin' Through the > >> >> >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the > >> >> >texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and > >> >> >gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience > >> >> >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' liversthe odor > >> >> >day toy a cello day dis chevys a bo coo daughter chose encore > >> >> >Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout > >> >> >eternity for moments to be of such suchness. > >> >> >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks > >> >> >All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds > >> >> >of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. > >> >> >Likewise seams andpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and > >> >> >recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent > >> >> >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus apokoinu > >> >> >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles > >> >> >considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging > >> >> >flawlessly, flutes sing genderless in trio, surprisedby how quiet > >> >> >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep > >> >> >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes > >> >> >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten > >> >> >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead > >> >> >and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes > >> >> >saunter lope pentecost beam operator will you cockpit > >> >> >out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom > >> >> >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power > >> >> >uncreased although each snare still trembles quantum > >> >> >which explains why the pump is busted and why > >> >> >he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that > >> >> >crap about not having a cousin on the moon > >> >> >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool > >> >> >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so > >> >> >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, > >> >> >heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose > >> >> >of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use > >> >> >I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative > >> >> >among the invoices and the difference engines > >> >> >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is here and there > >> >> >collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze > >> >> >delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house > >> >> >of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my > >> >> >ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. > >> >> >I have a lot of duende in the freezer & we can defrost some > >> >> >woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep > >> >> >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in > >> >> >our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which > >> >> >in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to > >> >> >creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give > >> >> >temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of > >> >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his > >> >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read > >> >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but > >> >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses > >> >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup > >> >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons > >> >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed > >> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops > >> threatening to have been arrested when the party wasn't looking > >> wanting to hitch a ride back to Los Genitales (in the boondocks) > via dendrites to the fourteenth power gleaned from the recent mitten convention having the configuration of levorotatory glyceraldehyde but unluckily I ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 15:57:03 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: RENGA SUGGESTION (PLEA! FREE US UP!) In-Reply-To: <9509141025.aa10937@post.demon.co.uk> Starting next login I am only mentioning the last five lines of any version i decide to add to, for the sake of everybody and especially people who have to pay for access. On Thu, 14 Sep 1995, John Cayley wrote: > 1) Quote only the last two or three previous lines of the Renga to which > you are adding. > > -- with a little *local* editing you would be able to keep complete > copies on your own machines, and this will leave the list a *lot* less > cluttered for the rest. [Remember, some of us pay for access to the net.] > > 2) ? Strict(er) use of subject lines to identify branchings. > > - - - - - - > John Cayley Wellsweep Press [in Chinese HZ: ~{?-U\02~} ~{=[i@3v0fIg~}] > ^ fine, innovative literary translation from Chinese ^ > 1 Grove End House 150 Highgate Road London NW5 1PD UK > Tel & Fax: 0171-267 3525 Email: cayley@shadoof.demon.co.uk > 1995 URLs: http://www.inforamp.net/~cayley [= home] > + /wshome.html [= Wellsweep] > + /inhome.html [= Indra's Net] > - - - - - - > ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 21:22:39 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >Sheila wrote: >Jorge wrote: >> Chris wrote >>> > Sheila wrote >>> >> Jorge wrote: >>> >> >Sheila wrote >>> >> >Jorge wrote: >>> >> >Sheila wrote >>> >> >Jorge wrote: >>> >> >Sheila wrote: >>> >> >Jorge wrote: >>> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> >> (...) >> >>> >> >hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>> >> >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>> >> >ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>> >> >does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>> >> >cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>> >> >trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>> >> demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops >>> that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to >> say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer >than a clam can sleeve out of incarceration baldly go where others fear to operate the biggest donors hive ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 21:22:33 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: permissions on the 'ringa' Thomas Bell writes: >I'm not >sure I agree with piecemeal publication - what is important >here I think is the process rather than the content. It is >fairly common to release material and progams to freeware >or the punblic somain with the stipulaion that they only >be released in their entirety. Other thoughts on this >issue? The process, with its weird time delays and multiple branching almost every line is certainly fascinating - perhaps particularly for contributors. But then so are snapshots of that process. What I like about the 'ringa' (as in ringa the changes) are its morphabilities. And 'punblic somain' is my nomination for typo of the week btw. love and love cris ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 19:27:32 EDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ken Edwards <100344.2546@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: UK poetry I've now heard from Romana Huk, who is organising that conference at the University of New Hampshire I mentioned before, on contemporary UK/Irish/US/Canadian poetry. She's asked me to say it'll take place on 28 Aug - 2 Sept 1996. Anyone interested in hearing more should contact her at UNH, Dept of English, Durham, NH 03824, tel 603-862-3992. She has some problem with her email at the moment but once she's online she's hoping to subscribe to this list. - Ken ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 17:00:30 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Herb Levy Subject: David Ayre's rengas Last week, as you may recall, David Ayre promised to post, what was it, 54(?) pages of rengas. Always a man of his word, in the last few days, Ayre has done just that. What I want to know is: how (& why) did he use so many different names and email addresses to post this remarkable flurry of rengas? & why has he dropped the convention of keeping the word "renga" in the subject line for those (fools though they may be) who do not wish to read more rengas? Herb Levy herb@eskimo.com ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 19:06:52 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Eryque Gleason Subject: Re: Permission it seems that the oneline I posted killed a thread of the renga a couple weeks ago, so in a blind jealous rage I'm afraid that I can't let you publish it, or any of my contributions as a lurker either. love, eryque _____________________________________!________________________________________ Eryque "Just call me Eric" Gleason If I weren't a monkey, there'd 71 E. 32nd St. Box 949 be problems. Chicago, IL 60616 gleaeri@harpo.acc.iit.edu ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 20:04:41 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Steven Howard Shoemaker Subject: anagrams to the stars In-Reply-To: <199509140402.AAA68997@fermi.clas.Virginia.EDU> from "Automatic digest processor" at Sep 14, 95 00:00:59 am Forget about the old-timers like Keanu and Winona. I wanna know what wld happen if Alicia Silverstone met Leonardo DiCaprio?! Alicia Silverstone= Lave toe-nail. Crisis! Leonardo Di Caprio: Darn! Poor Leo. I, I cad! Btw, i knew you guys were *really* into anagrams, even tho' nobody let on when i brought them up a while ago. S'ok 'cause i hereby volunteer to be the list's textual unconscious, at least until the next elections... ss ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 20:19:52 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Renga and the Far Write In-Reply-To: <9509141959.AA05612@notesgate> Daniel, thank very much for your concern. I am looking into Rengaholics Anonymous --there is a chapter here in Buffalo. I believe some of the members are former poetics list subscribers. I am about to contact Mike Boughn to see if he can give me some free counseling. But Sheila, no matter what happens, i promise to keep our excellent adventure alive! On Thu, 14 Sep 1995, Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco wrote: > Jorge: > > Try to spend at least a couple of hours away from the computer screen. Isn't > the weather nice where you are? Get outside a little. You're going to renga > your health at this rate. > > daniel_bouchard@hmco.com > ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 20:26:01 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <9509142114.aa03660@post.demon.co.uk> AS PROMISED > >>> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >> > >> (...) > >> > >>> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops > >>> that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to > >> say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer > >than a clam can sleeve out of incarceration baldly > go where others fear to operate the biggest donors hive > & where Mars collides with the small world of "It's a small world" ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 20:32:22 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: anything exciting happened in my absence? i just returned from a long vacation in Aguas Buenas where i hung out with Victor Cruz. While I was gone, I lent my account to my friend David Ayre. He said he needed to send only one message to Herb Levy and that was it. ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 00:42:33 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: ahem Chaim subroutine hawk stichic via Jorge >> > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> > >through windows '95, lightning green and fine morning >> > >First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >> > >The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud >> > >Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds >> > >The caravan of endowments to what they flee >> > >These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >> > >Boloed than aware, spin-art and pebbling >> > >but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! >> > >Over coffee chopped with kissed lads, the Times blowing >> > >& opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the >> > >bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind >> > >missing the violinist between her rests as she >> > >indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of >> > >Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass >> > >s halfway pertinent incision we keep making >> > >(I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & >> > >Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house >> > >chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a >> > >big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, >> > >"Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the >> > >Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit >> > >texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and >> > >stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence >> > >the chair is sad, alas, and i've lusted tootles' livers the >> > >detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core >> > >slaughter because we're waiting all throughout >> > >eternity for solos to be of such suchness. >> > >In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks >> > >All models like films about their friends in pastel >> > >of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. >> > >Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and >> > >recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent >> > >transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax >> > >switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels >> > >considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging >> > >flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! >> > >effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep >> > >through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes >> > >petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten >> > >alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead >> > >And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers >> > >saunter lope pentecost Timon of Athens operator will you cockpit >> > >out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom >> > >inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power >> > >uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress >> > >which explains why the sump is busted and why >> > >he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that >> > >carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy >> > >capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool >> > >prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so >> > >start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, >> > >heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo >> > >of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use >> > >I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance >> > >among the choruses and the different people >> > >Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey >> > >collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze >> > >delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, >> > >of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, >> > >ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. >> > >I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some >> > >woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep >> > >as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in >> > >our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which >> > >in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to >> > >bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give >> > >the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >> > >hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his >> > >longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized >> > >elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but >> > >does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses >> > >cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" >> > >travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons >> > documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed >> sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops >> but my nerves are excellent tonight: I fired Mr. Churchyard \far beyond the safety netting while the band ate salted nuts ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 21:27:56 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning >>First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar >>The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud >>Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds >>The caravan of windows to what they flee >>These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more >>Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spined and pebbling >>but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago >>Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing >>& opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the >>in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to skipped some >>creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give >>temporality a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of >>hidden porchlight in the latitude that she has given his >>longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read >>ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but >>does mangling exist or the circle is balboa plus expenses >>cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup >>trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons >>demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >>of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >>starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our >eco-store with Mona wash and circa navigate the horn incorporated Encyclopedia britannica incoroap corporations ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 21:33:39 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: spike it with saussure - begins the intramix... >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. incorporating the end of timewarps and troves treasured . ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 21:40:48 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >>>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>>And flew through windows incorporating life as we new lyweds truly begotten gathered to elect a ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 14 Sep 1995 22:51:12 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >AS PROMISED > >> >>> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >> >> >> >> (...) >> >> >> >>> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops >> >>> that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to >> >> say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer >> >than a clam can sleeve out of incarceration baldly >> go where others fear to operate the biggest donors hive >> & where Mars collides with the small world of "It's a small world" ripe for macroscopes to pump or slice or butterfly away ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 04:21:32 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: spike it with saussure - begins the intramix... For the NYC Greenwich Village Halloween Parade, I need cat screams, most ideally cats in heat, but any old screams, yowls, howls, loud meows would be great. In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew through windows '95 Marlin Loins lightning green, a fine morning First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the old boy on the grass under sun and cloud Go endless, an obtuse cellar blue, it binds The caravan of endowments to what they flee These space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Boloe than aware, spin-art and pebbling but narrow in the face or foppish Sunday Hilda oh! Airy Hemp Lush over coffee copped a kiss, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, we musing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind missing the violinist between her rests as she indexes fracas problem: tool shacks, landscape of Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel glass s halfway pertinent incision we keep making (I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant) & Neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, "Dias,oh, ho kook!"Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit texture so to speak was at the cleaners hot and stubble somewhere unnoticed, chirping presence the chair is sad, alas, Inroad Mama, i've lusted tootles' livers the detour a cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core slaughter because we're waiting all throughout eternity for solos to be of such suchness - Relaxed Renal Scar in the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All models like films about their friends in pastel of darkness falling like an afghan around the manatee. Likewise seems sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and recently soft brute of subject's object status, violent transformation la Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax switchback and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angels considered shrill as I'm left in the acres to be aging flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead And, with a shout, collecting coat hangers Groin Going Boo saunters pentecostal, operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!" the idiom inseams, a snare as solvently unequal-- the power uncreased although each snare still trembles QuarkXpress which explains why the sump is busted and why he preferred Hole to afternoons on the phone with that carp, a cousin on the moon, remember the needy capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimmin, bud: "lay me down in a wetsuit, heats me up the porridge," it's like a huge typo of familiarity. I am storing valence for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty arrogance among the choruses and the different people Char, Lee, Parr, Kerr, everybody is Hokey Pokey collecting the very boring nouns that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies tied by Pelican Bill, yo, in the house, of narration with part of good moisture. Here, bile, sopor, ebullience is a token gesture of the sauced, Red Stuff. I have a lot of duodenum. In the freezer we can defend some woods on a snowy evening, my yellow rose is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drear, get lost in our palaver. Have? Will not a binge of harmony which in the end go "meerschaum" on us till we Tempest ourselves to bearings where the heiress is cows bathing in starlight. Give the poor temp a rest, for widest space succombs to onslaughts of hidden porchlight in the platitude that she has given his longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be canonized elevates politicos and blond ones also raving vortices but does hang-gliding exist or is the circle a bulb of "plus" expenses cabins away from "Flash and Filligree" and "Goat's Head Soup" travel stiffly by the tears for so many tendons documentary to mean full body winter with alcohol removed sending the bulk of closure with sentient loops but my nerves are excellent tonight: Check Sire in the coin-op kiln on Sullen Street with my Saint Chris pendant and my legroom pedalled to half willing mendicants For the NYC Greenwich Village Halloween Parade, I need cat screams, most ideally cats in heat, but any old screams, yowls, howls, loud meows would be great. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 04:26:27 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: RENGA SUGGESTION (PLEA! FREE US UP!) Count me (one who pays for net access) as anti-ellipsoid. It turns rengas into "virtual rengas" and, lord knows, they're virtual enough as it is. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 04:37:45 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Ron Silliman Subject: Re: RENGA SUGGESTION (PLEA! FREE US UP!) I pay for access but am anti-ellipsoid. These rengas are virtual enough as it is. Personally, I think that any publication of them should credit Araki Yasusada. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 11:27:47 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: you & whose army? dear m: wcw "modernized" himself by not writing like keats. keats' generation was to wcw's what wcw's is to now. olson (born before WWI) lived in wcw's world. we don't. the century's nearly gone. should we still be listening to wcw? -e ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 11:30:16 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: you & whose army? dear m: actually, did teach spring & all last year, will do american grain this. but am doing it to suggest certain transformations in ideas about poetry and view of the past that have yellowed, dated. american grain: very dated. -e ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 11:31:54 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: Red Wheelbarrow no, bill, i feel more like wells, esp. on this chatline, ducking bullets. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 11:43:07 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: use narrative engines ya, and in Iowa they still think wcw is cream cheese. stopped for breakfast in des moines this summer and asked for silliman-on-toast or bruce-andrews-popovers but was given wcw on a bagel. said, what's this white sauce? was corrected, fast. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 11:47:38 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: inquiry from the unlettered aldon: i fear he's a clone who can't spell. ulp. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 09:52:35 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jeffrey Timmons Subject: Re: you & whose army? In-Reply-To: <01HVAXIW2K9Y8WY5WP@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU> On Fri, 15 Sep 1995, Edward Foster wrote: > dear m: wcw "modernized" himself by not writing like keats. keats' generation was to wcw's what wcw's is to now. olson (born before WWI) lived i n wcw's world. we don't. the century's nearly gone. should we still be listening to wcw? -e Short answer? Yes. Jeffrey Timmons ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 14:29:58 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Burt Kimmelman -@NJIT" Subject: Re: you & whose army? dear ehf, american grain good ol' wine ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 12:35:52 MDT Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Louis Cabri Subject: funkin around Enryque, you were joshing yea, but for me it's, joshing, the point, to write a line that cannot be written past and that at the same time asks you invites you to try with everything you may find. That would cut down on the numbers of em, too. I'm antiellipsoidal - sorry, translator. The translation has got to be total. But their quantity by soloists - If fewer posts were posted each day from each, then this would ease the pay-per-line situation, and also alleviate the occasional clog that the listserv owner has had to roto-root for us - talkin about paying for the service! 50 different posters each day would mix well in a punbliquity of unanimous outrage. Of course it seems that explicit rules are anathema to the implicit rules of this listserv that constitute it as it is, so no doubt these suggestions as with every other are simulateously asking you to not write past them and inviting you to do so with everything you find at hand - the keyboard body. You've got a keyboard body, it could be rad. Steve, thank you for your Adorno quotes. The lectures on Hegel as a poetic for modernity, can you expand the analogy? As Butler speaks of girling the girl, we need to enverb Adorno and Hegel. Juliana re: identification - "grasping the process of the thing through sympathetic identification" (Wesling), it's the post Romantic literary & extraliterary convention de luxe (psychoanalysis become a global process of capital, to para Andrews)? where it is ultimatley the self that has become the thing? the reified thing that needs persistent jumpstarting? Born again, Id Rave Day! Socket to the thing? ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 14:40:34 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: ahem Chaim subroutine hawk stichic II In-Reply-To: <9509140034.aa09656@post.demon.co.uk> variations on a theme by Chris by Jorge > >> > >moods of a snoring sibling, my Jello rows are lonely,sharp & steep v> >> > >as pestilence but let's exhume the cakes and gears seth your palaver. Hawk? Will not a tinge of irony switch > >> > in tents go "weltausschaung" on us till we tenant ourselves to > >> > >bearings where the heiress is chaos landing in barlight. Give > >> > >the poor Clem a chest, for stareinspace forgoes the thoughts of > >> > >hidden porchlight in the solicitude that she has given his > >> > boyhood. Dearth is directly sated. A cymbal rated to be ionized > >> > >renovates porticos and blood Huns also sprach Sarah Tustra but > >> > >does Hans Glanding exist or is the cricket a glob of club senses > >> > >cackling away frost, pasha and pedigree and Godhead Soup > >> > >trammeled swiftly by the fears of so many did't know D had undone > >> > elementary to seem full, coaty tincture with aloe subsumed> >> mending the Hulk of Brochures with sterner boobs > >> but my verbs are excellent tonight: I sired Betty Barnyard > \ far beyond the testy Nellie whom the Engels called Chador & the lamb presents cogent objections in bleat to his blood ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 10:42:39 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" Subject: Re: signs taken for wonders In-Reply-To: <199509150429.VAA06396@sparta.SJSU.EDU> current _Voice Literary Supplement_ gives an entire page to Gustaf Sobin"s new books -- including nice notice indeed of the Talisman selection -- thanks for putting out another good book to Ed Foster -- amazing what people can do with a little bit of boredom -- --A.nother Nielsen ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 15:24:28 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: you & whose army? actually, jeffrey, we should listen to wcw, but do it the way wcw listen to keats. as i recall, wcw's book of keatsian poems were stored in a chicken coop, which burned. but then, w adopted/adapted rimbaud, who was also dead. new era in 5 yrs. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 15:32:00 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Edward Foster Subject: Re: you & whose army? burt: you can't make wine from grain. anyway, what's this fear of leaving wcw behind? or at least leaving him in the classroom? i have a feeling that of that trio--ep, hd, wce--it's hd (of trilogy) who offers most now. -ed ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 14:56:51 -0500 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Charles Alexander Subject: Re: you & why an army? ed & jeffrey: does this mean that reading keats is absolutely out of the question. Or, given the postmodern pastiche of time, should we read wcw as keats would have read him? just as long as neither has to be filtered through renga. charles ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 13:17:06 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Herb Levy Subject: Re: you & whose army? Ed - Why didn't they use the rainwater in the wheelbarrow to put out that fire? Herb Levy herb@eskimo.com ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 16:22:25 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gwyn McVay Subject: Curbstone In-Reply-To: <199509151956.OAA07447@freedom.mtn.org> Like I said, please say hi to Claribel for me. I'm mad at myself because I meant to bring my copy of _Flowers_ to class for you to have her sign. Oh well. Also please say hi to Sandy and that nice kid Bob if he still works for him. They were both so nice to me last year. g. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 16:26:50 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Gwyn McVay Subject: Re: you & whose army? In-Reply-To: To get to the other side! Gwyn On Fri, 15 Sep 1995, Herb Levy wrote: > Ed - > > Why didn't they use the rainwater in the wheelbarrow to put out that fire? > > > Herb Levy > herb@eskimo.com > ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 11:37:04 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure >>AS PROMISED >> >>> >>> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew >>> >> >>> >> (...) >>> >> >>> >>> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops >>> >>> that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to >>> >> say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer >>> >than a clam can sleeve out of incarceration baldly >>> go where others fear to operate the biggest donors hive >>> & where Mars collides with the small world of "It's a small world" >ripe for macroscopes to pump or slice or butterfly away from that ardent bugged heliotrope and pledge allegiance through ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 15:17:30 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: RengaCheck In-Reply-To: <199509151121.EAA01709@ix5.ix.netcom.com> from "Ron Silliman" at Sep 15, 95 04:21:32 am I put a version of the renga thru grammar check, which kept politely suggesting that various parts of it did not seem to be complete sentences. I told it there was no such thing in this people's universe, and it compromised with this: In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew through windows lightning green and fine morning First inverted whistle of a cardinal in the poplar The book and the oboe on the grass under sun and cloud Go endlessly, an obtuse Prussian blue, it binds The caravan of windows to what they flee These lace curtains, more gauze than bondage, more Mollycoddled than aware, thin-spondee and pebbling but narrow in the waist or waspish Sunday years ago Over coffee topped with whipped lads, the Times blowing & opining, heavy humid air, cum amusing against the bleached ribcage ripcords into compassed wind kissing the weatherman between her beasts as she gives gracious problem: fanatical snacks, landscape of flicker son of thunderhead and the storm in the glass of water's halfway pertinent incision we keep making safe for ignorance (inspection denied for not knowing how credenza was meant) & neo-colonizing pockets in small furniture intended house sequentially several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, seal hales said, "Dias,oh,ho kook!"Edward Kennedy Wellington! "Tooting' Through the Roof" Tobacco warehouse, curls no ideas but the woven fabric the texture so to speak was at the dry cleaners piping hot and gloved-in somewhere unsalted, perched on prescience the chair is sad, alas, and Ive lusted toothless' livers the odor day toy a cello day dice chivvies a boa coo daughter chose encore Flaubert because we're waiting all throughout Eternity for moments to be of such sauciness. In the nooks were creams and in the stream were hooks All melded like striated film leftover in the pastel seeds Of darkness falling like a counterirritant around the manchineel. Likewise seams sandpaper juxtaposed with seasoned instruments and recently soft fruit of subject's object status, violent Transformation la Set. Theorize into beaming cumulus apokoinu switch back and in the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding angles considered shrill as pine left in the acres to be aging flawlessly, flutes sing gendarmes in trio, surprised by how quiet effort really is or is not, fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms, arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts, projective nurse if she is to go ahead and dance, composing instead of straining muscles, far eyes saunter lope Pentecost beam operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, the idiom inseams, a snare as slovenly unequal-- the power uncrossed although each snare still trembles quantum which explains why the pump is busted and why he preferred whole afternoons on the phone to that crap about not having a cousin on the moon capable of keeping the canoe right way up in the cool prose of the upper Hudson, dinner's at seven so start swimming, bud: "lay me down in a wet suit, heats me up in the sleaze," it's like a huge dose Of familiarity. I am storing radiance for later use I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative among the invoices and the difference engines Char, Lee, Pap, Keg, everybody is here and there collecting the stamp hinges that come in on the breeze delicate lace flies into pelican Bills in the house Of narration with partners of good moisture. Here,touch my Ebullience with a token gesture of sauce, of the red stuff. I have a lot of Dundee in the freezer & we can defrost some woods on a snowy evening, my horse is lovely dark and deep as penitence, but let's elude the shakes and drier, get lost in our palaver have tongue will travel not a binge of harmony which in the end goes meerschaum on us till we blink ourselves to Creeping where the sublime is cows bathing in starlight. Give temporality a rest, for widest space succumbs to onslaughts of hidden porch light in the latitude that she has given his Longitude. Depth is directly stated. A signal slated to be read ingratiates politicos and blond ones also shaven vortices but does mangling exist or the circle is bleb plus expenses cabinets away from lust and pedigree and shark fin soup trailing stiffens buying tears for so many tendons demitasses to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast of swirling eddies with beau coup of labia & confetti starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 15:23:33 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: anagrams to the stars In-Reply-To: <199509150004.UAA56754@fermi.clas.Virginia.EDU> from "Steven Howard Shoemaker" at Sep 14, 95 08:04:41 pm Edward Foster = Redraft Dowse ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 15:51:41 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: from "Jorge Guitart" at Sep 13, 95 06:21:59 pm "Ufgh!" "Aw!" "Here?" "Nnngh! "Oh! ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 15:49:20 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: George Bowering Subject: Re: Hello Ayre Heads In-Reply-To: from "David Ayre" at Sep 13, 95 05:30:26 pm I want to go on record as saying that I have never been in the same room with David Ayre. He always made me do it in a meadow. Damned Romantic nature poets. ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 08:17:13 EST Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" Organization: University of NC at Greensboro Subject: Renga permissions I had to go off for a few days and while I was gone the explanations of who wrote the renga have thmselves taken on a renga-like proliferation. As soon as I can sort out what I have been told I will post what I have figured out so that people can make additional claims or else ask not to be included. I wonder who was the first person who brought a piece of kudzu from Japan--just a random thought. I do realize that the renga is an ongoing process and that anything printed outside this list is reportage rather than publication. But it might set an example that would help make so-called "workshops" more fun. Despite its oriental model it seems to me a very new world thing, like roof-raisings and potluck suppers. Tom Kirby-Smith English Department UNC-Greensboro Greensboro NC 27412 ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 19:35:39 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: spike it with saussure - begins the intramix... In-Reply-To: <199509150433.VAA26808@well.com> On Thu, 14 Sep 1995, Thomas Bell wrote: > >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. > incorporating the end of timewarps and troves treasured > the mercator projection of horniness and thou; for thou is ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 19:45:58 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <199509150551.WAA03809@bob.indirect.com> On Thu, 14 Sep 1995, Sheila E. Murphy wrote: > >AS PROMISED > > > >> >>> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >> >> > >> >> (...) > >> >> > >> >>> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops > >> >>> that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to > >> >> say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer > >> >than a clam can sleeve out of incarceration baldly > >> go where others fear to operate the biggest donors hive > >> & where Mars collides with the small world of "It's a small world" > ripe for macroscopes to pump or slice or butterfly away and the nominal cloud will devoice the strange case of God ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 11:37:11 +0000 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: cris cheek Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch >>>>In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. >>>>And flew through windows, lightning green and fine morning [savage edit] >>>>demitassed to mean full-bodied wine with alcohol removed >>>>by trained leeches from under the rotting elastic, a feast >>>>of swirling eddies with beaucoup of labia & confetti >>>>starving time's scythe for water, matching colors to go >>>crecheward into sweet line drawings clothed to world our >>words for water, falling four blocks away, finally, a gulf >between perceived and rinsing water, shroud and comforter, flogging proud wet stones with patchwork flags making tenement hum ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 19:53:35 -0400 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jorge Guitart Subject: Re: Sheila, Chris & Jorge's Excellent Adventure In-Reply-To: <9509151128.aa11881@post.demon.co.uk> On Fri, 15 Sep 1995, cris cheek wrote: > >>AS PROMISED > >> > >>> >>> >> >In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books.And flew > >>> >> > >>> >> (...) > >>> >> > >>> >>> >spending the bulk of closure with sentient scoops > >>> >>> that fluke picnic shot out of these worlds we spread been-to > >>> >> say that the center cannot hold the nose tackle much longer > >>> >than a clam can sleeve out of incarceration baldly > >>> go where others fear to operate the biggest donors hive > >>> & where Mars collides with the small world of "It's a small world" > >ripe for macroscopes to pump or slice or butterfly away > from that ardent bugged heliotrope and pledge allegiance through ostension--we stopped short of the shortstop stigmata ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 18:03:15 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Jeffrey Timmons Subject: Re: you & an army of mixed metaphors and forgotten half-truths... In-Reply-To: <199509151956.OAA07447@freedom.mtn.org> On Fri, 15 Sep 1995, Charles Alexander wrote: > ed & jeffrey: does this mean that reading keats is absolutely out of the > question. Or, given the postmodern pastiche of time, should we read wcw as > keats would have read him? just as long as neither has to be filtered > through renga. Ha. And what would that kind of reading be? Yes, I have to agree with Ed that HD is probably the most important of them--ep, hd, wcw--at the moment, but wcw is (partially) important in american poetics (if I can hazard such a generalization) because of his mainstreaming of an avant-garde aesthetic. Maybe the wheelbarrow is a little boring, but, geez, it's neat isn't it? I mean, I see Emerson and Thoreau in him . . . and I always dig that. As I suggested, though, I am interested in WCW for not only the clarity and and simplicity, the laconic reduction of language to its essentials, which still retains such resonance and suggestive possibilities, but, also, because of his investment in an avant-garde, modernist tradition. HD and EP do not, I believe, offer that same perspective. I am interested in the WCW of Spring And All--the prose/poem version, with its absurdity and weirdness. Where else in the, now, mainstream tradition do you find that? Eliot doesn't count--expat and all. What is valuable is WCW--were we in need of qualifying this--is that he, not single-handedly mind you, reoriented american poeticx: "Writing is not a searching about in the daily experience for apt similes and pretty thoughts and images. I have experienced that to my sorrow. It is not a conscious recording of the day's experiences "freshly and with the appearance of realilty"--This sort of thing is seriously to the development of any ability in a man, it fastens him down, makes him a--It destroys, makes nature an accessory to the particular theory he is following, it blinds him to the world . . . . " I would hazard to say that without WCW american poetics would have lacked an important influence in turning itself away from an ideology of verisimilitude. If we are to read anyone we need to read them in a way that makes them not only part of their context but as how t relevant to our present. Better WCW than longfellow.... Jeffrey Timmons ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 18:19:43 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: "Sheila E. Murphy" Subject: What? Me? A Renga Problem...NAW! >Daniel, thank very much for your concern. I am looking into Rengaholics >Anonymous --there is a chapter here in Buffalo. I believe some of the >members are former poetics list subscribers. I am about to contact Mike >Boughn to see if he can give me some free counseling. >But Sheila, no matter what happens, i promise to keep our excellent >adventure alive! Me, too, Jorge! SEM ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 15 Sep 1995 21:07:38 -0700 Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group Sender: UB Poetics discussion group From: Thomas Bell Subject: Tale of Grengaji I In the books were dreams and in the dreams were books. And flew through windows '95 Marlin Loins. Lightning green first dawning. A fine morning. First detrevni whistle of a cardinal in the popular book. Old boy on grass. Under sun and cloud. Go endless obtuse. Cellar blue binds caravan endowments. What they flee, these space curtains, more gauze than bondage, more boloed than aware, spin-art. Pebbling narrow in the face or foppish. Sunday Hilda.... Oh! Airy hemp lush copped a kiss over coffee. Sunday The Times blowing & opining. Heavy humid air, we musing against the bleached ribcage ripcorded into compassed wind missing the violinist between her rests as she indexes. Fracas problem: tool shacks. Landscape of Zorro son of thunderhead and the storm in the steel. Glass halfway pertinent incision we keep making (I denied not knowing how cadenza was meant). & neapolitan pockets in small furniture intended house chance several mountains away but it wasn't, you know, a big tango when the attorney general came, said amen, "Dias,oh, ho kook!" Xanthippe Ellington! "Tootin' through the roof" Tobacco warehouse curls no rabbit/rabbit/rabbit/rabbittexture. so to speak. At the cleaners hot and stubble somewhere unnoticed. Chirping presence is sad, The chair, alas. Inroad Mama lusted tootles' livers detour. A cello a day dishevels a boat cold otter chose in the core, Slaughter because we're waiting all throughout eternity for solos to be. Such suchness. Relaxed renal scar in the nooks creams in the stream. Hooks, models like films about their friends in pastel of darkness falling. An afghan around the manatee.likewise seems. Sandpaper huckster with seesaw inchworms and recently. Soft brute of subject's object status, violent transformation. Ste. Therese into beaming cumulus hapax switchback. In the u-turns were bookmobiles rounding. Angels considered shrill as I'm left in the acres. Aging flutes sing fender-benderless in trio, h-h-h-holy cow! Effort really is or is not fast enough to sleep through thunderstorms. Arm over thigh until light shakes petals free of names that rain across known skin forgotten alive in our hearse hurts. Projective nurse if she is to go ahead, and with a shout, collecting coat hangers groin going boo saunters pentecostal, operator will you cockpit out, transplanted organs speak, "arf!."