=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 21:10:06 -0700
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Lindz Williamson <lmichell@UNIXG.UBC.CA>
Subject: Re: Help..
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950831145351.18466R-100000@general3.asu.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Mark Roberts <M.Roberts@ISU.USYD.EDU.AU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Lindz Williamson <lmichell@UNIXG.UBC.CA>
Subject: limerick
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950831210052.12233A-100000@interchg.ubc.ca>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: limerick
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950831221756.4603A-100000@interchg.ubc.ca> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Lindz Williamson <lmichell@UNIXG.UBC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Mark Roberts <M.Roberts@ISU.USYD.EDU.AU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco <Daniel_Bouchard@HMCO.COM>
Subject: Re: Fate
Comments: To: Patrick Phillips <Patrick_Phillips@BROWN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Kevin Killian <dbkk@SIRIUS.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Herb Levy <herb@ESKIMO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Chris Stroffolino <LS0796@CNSVAX.ALBANY.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Lindz Williamson <lmichell@UNIXG.UBC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Burt Kimmelman -@NJIT" <kimmelman@ADMIN.NJIT.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: limerick
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950831221756.4603A-100000@interchg.ubc.ca> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: fairy poems
In-Reply-To: <v01530502ac6ba8dbf0a9@[192.0.2.1]> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Renga!!
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509011137.B539871572-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Shaunanne Tangney <st@SCS.UNR.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: limerick
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950831225827.12098B-100000@interchg.ubc.ca> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Anmarie Trimble <writeme@E-CAFE.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Steve Carll <sjcarll@SLIP.NET>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Shaunanne Tangney <st@SCS.UNR.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Shaunanne Tangney <st@SCS.UNR.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jonathan Brannen <jbrannen@INFOLINK.MORRIS.MN.US>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Louis Cabri <ldmcabri@ACS.UCALGARY.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
Subject: Re: progressive v regressive
In-Reply-To: <v01530502ac6ba8dbf0a9@[192.0.2.1]>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@ACSU.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Brian W Horihan <hori0001@MAROON.TC.UMN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
Subject: Re: reHerb
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950902103353.9775D-100000@athens>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
Subject: Jabes
In-Reply-To: <Pine.OSF.3.91.950902084834.16719B-100000@osf1.gmu.edu> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Andrew John Miller <ajm@ACPUB.DUKE.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jonathan Brannen <jbrannen@INFOLINK.MORRIS.MN.US>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jonathan Brannen <jbrannen@INFOLINK.MORRIS.MN.US>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jonathan Brannen <jbrannen@INFOLINK.MORRIS.MN.US>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jonathan Brannen <jbrannen@INFOLINK.MORRIS.MN.US>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: reng-reng, hello?
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950902164942.22405A-100000
@godzilla.acpub.duke.edu> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: reHerb
In-Reply-To: <Pine.OSF.3.91.950902135256.16719D-100000@osf1.gmu.edu> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gwyn McVay <gmcvay1@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: fairy poems
In-Reply-To: <Pine.OSF.3.91.950902210757.1268E-100000@osf1.gmu.edu> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Renging hands
In-Reply-To: <Pine.OSF.3.91.950902210757.1268E-100000@osf1.gmu.edu> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: refusal to refer
In-Reply-To: <Pine.OSF.3.91.950902210757.1268E-100000@osf1.gmu.edu> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <mcba@MAROON.TC.UMN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gabrielle Welford <welford@HAWAII.EDU>
Subject: Re: Millay
In-Reply-To: <v01520d04ac699d7b8722@[204.94.144.40]>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gabrielle Welford <welford@HAWAII.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jerry Rothenberg <jrothenb@CARLA.UCSD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Steven Howard Shoemaker <ss6r@FERMI.CLAS.VIRGINIA.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Steven Howard Shoemaker <ss6r@FERMI.CLAS.VIRGINIA.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jerry Rothenberg <jrothenb@CARLA.UCSD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Cristina L. Brown" <ST001371@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: kathryne lindberg <KLINDBE@CMS.CC.WAYNE.EDU>
Subject: Re: fairy poems
In-Reply-To: Message of Sun, 3 Sep 1995 13:37:07 PDT from
<jrothenb@CARLA.UCSD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jonathan Brannen <jbrannen@INFOLINK.MORRIS.MN.US>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jonathan Brannen <jbrannen@INFOLINK.MORRIS.MN.US>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jeffrey Timmons <mnamna@IMAP1.ASU.EDU>
Subject: Re: Help..
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950831210052.12233A-100000@interchg.ubc.ca>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: fairy poems
In-Reply-To: <POETICS%95090318483080@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: UK-CALL
In-Reply-To: <POETICS%95090316375978@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Marjorie Perloff <perloff@LELAND.STANFORD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Studying in England
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SUN.3.91.950903214706.2208A-100000@elaine6.Stanford.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: fairy poems
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509032347.A539862310-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
Subject: Re: dozens of dozens
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950903225621.7766C-100000@athens> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
Subject: Re: UK-CALL
In-Reply-To: <POETICS%95090316375978@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jerry Rothenberg <jrothenb@CARLA.UCSD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: eric pape <ENPAPE@LSUVM.SNCC.LSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: eric pape <ENPAPE@LSUVM.SNCC.LSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gabrielle Welford <welford@HAWAII.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gabrielle Welford <welford@HAWAII.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gabrielle Welford <welford@HAWAII.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gabrielle Welford <welford@HAWAII.EDU>
Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509041431.A539898228-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Christopher Reiner <creiner@CRL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@ACSU.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: Jabes
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SUN.3.91.950904112932.2200A-100000@crl13.crl.com> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SUN.3.91.950904085904.29117D-100000@uhunix4.its.Hawaii.Edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SUN.3.91.950904090212.29117E-100000@uhunix4.its.Hawaii.Edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Kathryne Lindberg <KLINDBE@CMS.CC.WAYNE.EDU>
Subject: Re: duende
In-Reply-To: Message of Mon, 4 Sep 1995 07:51:55 -1000 from
<welford@HAWAII.EDU>
Yes, it was this reference to which I referred.
=========================================================================
Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 19:45:40 -0400
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Charles O. Hartman" <cohar@CONNCOLL.EDU>
Subject: Re: Jabes
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SUN.3.91.950904112932.2200A-100000@crl13.crl.com>
> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: reng-reng-reng-reng
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SUN.3.91.950904090212.29117E-100000@uhunix4.its.Hawaii.Edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: duende
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SUN.3.91.950904075031.27592B-100000@uhunix4.its.Hawaii.Edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Comments: Authenticated sender is <jzitt@bga.com>
From: Joseph Zitt <jzitt@HUMANSYSTEMS.COM>
Organization: HumanSystems
Subject: Re: TADS
Comments: To: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
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 \||
|/<A HREF="http://www.realtime.net/~jzitt/">Joe Zitt's Home Page</A>\|
=========================================================================
Date: Mon, 4 Sep 1995 21:51:19 -0700
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Louis Cabri <ldmcabri@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
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Keith Tuma <KWTUMA@MIAMIU.MUOHIO.EDU>
Subject: Re: UK-CALL
In-Reply-To: Message of Tue, 5 Sep 1995 09:51:07 +0100 from
<R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Kit Robinson <krobinson@BANDO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Kit Robinson <krobinson@BANDO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jerry Rothenberg <jrothenb@CARLA.UCSD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Stephen Galen Cope <scope@UCSCB.UCSC.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tina <ST001371@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
Subject: Re: UK-CALL
In-Reply-To: Message of Tue, 5 Sep 1995 09:51:07 +0100 from
<R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gale Nelson <EL500005@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
Subject: Re: Studying in England
In-Reply-To: Message of Mon, 4 Sep 1995 01:41:31 -0700 from <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gale Nelson <EL500005@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
Subject: Re: Jabes
In-Reply-To: Message of Sun, 3 Sep 1995 08:21:24 PDT from
<jrothenb@CARLA.UCSD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gale Nelson <EL500005@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
Subject: Re: Fate
In-Reply-To: Message of Thu, 31 Aug 1995 16:34:26 EDT from
<EL500005@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "A. Morris" <amorris@BLUE.WEEG.UIOWA.EDU>
Subject: address query
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950903222447.7766A-100000@athens>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Kenneth Goldsmith <kgolds@PANIX.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <CCNOV2/AHI_TGREEN>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Mark Wallace <mdw@GWIS2.CIRC.GWU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Joe Amato <amato@CHARLIE.ACC.IIT.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: your american cousin
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950906094446.7870E-100000@athens> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: eric pape <ENPAPE@LSUVM.SNCC.LSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <R.I.Caddel@durham.ac.uk>
Subject: Re: UK-CALL
To: Tony Green <t.green@auckland.ac.nz> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509051542.A539952556-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Stephen Galen Cope <scope@UCSCB.UCSC.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject: Re: desire / and the 39 steps
Comments: cc: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@vaxa.stevens-tech.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Michael Boughn <mboughn@EPAS.UTORONTO.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@ACSU.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: UK/US/UK book distribution
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91-941213.950907121813.4384H-100000@deneb.dur.ac.uk>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" <KIRBYS@FAGAN.UNCG.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco <Daniel_Bouchard@HMCO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <bowering@SFU.CA>
> 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 <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
> 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 <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
> 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 <bowering@SFU.CA>
> 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" <amorris@BLUE.WEEG.UIOWA.EDU>
> 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 <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
> 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 <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
> 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 <kgolds@PANIX.COM>
> 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 <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
> 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 <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
> 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 <CCNOV2/AHI_TGREEN>
> 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 <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
> 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 <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
> 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 <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
> 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 <mdw@GWIS2.CIRC.GWU.EDU>
> 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" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
> 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" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
> 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 <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
> 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 <amato@CHARLIE.ACC.IIT.EDU>
> 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 <bowering@SFU.CA>
> 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 <ENPAPE@LSUVM.SNCC.LSU.EDU>
> 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 <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
> 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 <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
> 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 <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
> Subject: (Fwd) Re: UK-CALL
>
> Sorry, folks. I can't get back-channels to Durham. Machine problems
> of some sort.
>
> " R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@durham.ac.uk>
> Subject: Re: UK-CALL
> To: Tony Green <t.green@auckland.ac.nz> 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 <bowering@SFU.CA>
> 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 <bowering@SFU.CA>
> 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 <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
> 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 <scope@UCSCB.UCSC.EDU>
> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: trees and wheelbarrows
Comments: To: poetics <poetics@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: kathryne Lindberg <KLINDBE@CMS.CC.WAYNE.EDU>
Subject: Re: duende
In-Reply-To: Message of Tue, 5 Sep 1995 07:52:41 PDT from
<jrothenb@CARLA.UCSD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tom Taylor <TOMT@CH1.CH.PDX.EDU>
Organization: PSU Cramer Hall
Subject: (Fwd) magazine you #15
------- Forwarded Message Follows -------
From: Self <CH1/TOMT>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gale Nelson <EL500005@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
Subject: Re: your american cousin/distribution
In-Reply-To: Message of Thu, 7 Sep 1995 20:15:08 +0000 from
<cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: LAURA MORIARTY <moriarty@MERCURY.SFSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <a.loney@auckland.ac.nz>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Robert A Harrison <Robert.A.Harrison@JCI.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Steve Evans <Steven_Evans@BROWN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: What if it were all in Spanish?
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950907074937.13555B-100000@athens> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509062057.A539976825-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Wendy Battin <wjbat@CONNCOLL.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Wendy Battin <wjbat@CONNCOLL.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
Subject: Re: Grolier snailmail
In-Reply-To: <POETICS%95090715335078@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <mcba@MAROON.TC.UMN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <mcba@MAROON.TC.UMN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jeffrey Timmons <mnamna@IMAP1.ASU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "I.LIGHTMAN" <I.Lightman@UEA.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
Subject: Re: UK Resources etc
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91-941213.950906123144.19111G-100000@deneb.dur.ac.uk>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Marjorie Perloff <perloff@LELAND.STANFORD.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Herb Levy <herb@ESKIMO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Fred Muratori <fmm1@CORNELL.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: eric pape <ENPAPE@LSUVM.SNCC.LSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Pierre Joris <joris@CSC.ALBANY.EDU>
Subject: Re: Distribution of British poetry
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SUN.3.91.950908081223.783A-100000@elaine3.Stanford.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Shaunanne Tangney <st@SCS.UNR.EDU>
Subject: Re: Talkshows, wheelbarrows & British verse
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950908102328.21427B-100000@athens>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Smith <CharSSmith@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@ACSU.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Stephen Galen Cope <scope@UCSCB.UCSC.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Smith <CharSSmith@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" <KIRBYS@FAGAN.UNCG.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Lindz Williamson <lmichell@UNIXG.UBC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "W. Northcutt" <William.Northcutt@UNI-BAYREUTH.DE>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Bernstein <BERNSTEI@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Burt Kimmelman -@NJIT" <kimmelman@ADMIN.NJIT.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509091145.A540163464-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write
g
e
G
u
i
t
a
r
t
<
M
L
L
J
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R
G
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@
U
B
V
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S
=========================================================================
Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 10:47:19 EST
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" <KIRBYS@FAGAN.UNCG.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Comments: RFC822 error: <W> Invalid RFC822 field - "-". Rest of header
flushed.
From: Charles Bernstein <BERNSTEI@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@ACSU.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Keith Tuma <KWTUMA@MIAMIU.MUOHIO.EDU>
Subject: Re: Agency (1)
In-Reply-To: Message of Sun, 10 Sep 1995 12:23:09 -0400 from
<BERNSTEI@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Keith Tuma <KWTUMA@MIAMIU.MUOHIO.EDU>
Subject: Re: Agency (1)
In-Reply-To: Message of Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:11:07 EST from
<KWTUMA@MIAMIU.MUOHIO.EDU>
Nefarious typos bleat/bleed.
=========================================================================
Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:28:44 -0400
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gwyn McVay <gmcvay1@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
Subject: Re: Agency (1)
In-Reply-To: <POETICS%95091014262788@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Joe Amato <amato@CHARLIE.ACC.IIT.EDU>
Subject: majik names...
joe amato = eat a mojo
=========================================================================
Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 16:07:46 -0400
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@ACSU.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: permission
Forwarded message:
From lolpoet@acsu.buffalo.edu Sun Sep 10 15:19:06 1995
From: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@acsu.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
Subject: Re: errata sweet
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950910134628.24815A-100000@athens>
Okay, Aldon,
Lease no lid?
--Carolyn
=========================================================================
Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 14:40:59 -0700
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: david ayre <david_ayre@MINDLINK.BC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: david ayre <david_ayre@MINDLINK.BC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@ACSU.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: I'm dreadfully sorry !
In-Reply-To: <m0sruER-000zxwC@fountain> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: I'm dreadfully sorry !Me too.
In-Reply-To: <m0sruER-000zxwC@fountain> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY
In-Reply-To: <m0sru4Y-000zy0C@fountain> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Agency (1)
In-Reply-To: <Pine.OSF.3.91.950910142820.32336D-100000@osf1.gmu.edu> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Two rengs dont make a write
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509101025.A540150030-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ann Lauterbach <Annotate@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jeffrey Timmons <mnamna@IMAP1.ASU.EDU>
Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY
In-Reply-To: <m0sru4Y-000zy0C@fountain>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Comments: Authenticated sender is <jzitt@bga.com>
From: Joseph Zitt <jzitt@HUMANSYSTEMS.COM>
Organization: HumanSystems
Subject: Re: permission
Comments: To: Loss Glazier <lolpoet@acsu.buffalo.edu>
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 \||
|/<A HREF="http://www.realtime.net/~jzitt/">Joe Zitt's Home Page</A>\|
=========================================================================
Date: Sun, 10 Sep 1995 22:39:23 MDT
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Louis Cabri <ldmcabri@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 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@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
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gabrielle Welford <welford@HAWAII.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Kevin Killian <dbkk@SIRIUS.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Kevin Killian <dbkk@SIRIUS.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Wystan Curnow <w.curnow@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "W. Northcutt" <William.Northcutt@UNI-BAYREUTH.DE>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gwyn McVay <gmcvay1@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
Subject: Re: your mail
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509110802.C540184976-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gale Nelson <EL500005@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
Subject: Re: magic names
In-Reply-To: Message of Fri, 8 Sep 1995 16:37:44 -0700 from <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: R I Caddel <R.I.Caddel@DURHAM.AC.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Steve Evans <Steven_Evans@BROWN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Steve Evans <Steven_Evans@BROWN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gale Nelson <EL500005@BROWNVM.BROWN.EDU>
Subject: French Poetry Festival in October
In-Reply-To: Message of Mon, 11 Sep 1995 08:22:00 -0700 from
<semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tom Taylor <TOMT@CH1.CH.PDX.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "M. Magoolaghan" <mmagoola@U.WASHINGTON.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "B. Cass Clarke" <V080G6J3@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Brian McHale <BMCH@WVNVM.WVNET.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Bernstein <BERNSTEI@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Bill Luoma <Maz881@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: klobucar <klobucar@UNIXG.UBC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: John Geraets <frank@DPC.AICHI-GAKUIN.AC.JP>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Patrick Phillips <Patrick_Phillips@BROWN.EDU>
Subject: Re: Fall Ear Inn Schedule (fwd)
thanks bill
=========================================================================
Date: Mon, 11 Sep 1995 22:29:42 +0100
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Patrick Phillips <Patrick_Phillips@BROWN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Herb Levy <herb@ESKIMO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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
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From: Michael Boughn <mboughn@EPAS.UTORONTO.CA>
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
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From: Michael Boughn <mboughn@EPAS.UTORONTO.CA>
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
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From: "Charles O. Hartman" <cohar@CONNCOLL.EDU>
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
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From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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
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From: Herb Levy <herb@ESKIMO.COM>
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
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From: Kevin Killian <dbkk@SIRIUS.COM>
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
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From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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
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From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Don Cheney <Don_Cheney@UCSDLIBRARY.UCSD.EDU>
Subject: Phone Bill
Bill Luoma = mull a boil
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 09:49:53 -0700
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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From: "M. Magoolaghan" <mmagoola@U.WASHINGTON.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jeffrey Timmons <mnamna@IMAP1.ASU.EDU>
Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY
Comments: To: Herb Levy <herb@ESKIMO.COM>
In-Reply-To: <v01530500ac7b52aadf03@[192.0.2.1]>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jeffrey Timmons <mnamna@IMAP1.ASU.EDU>
Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY
Comments: To: Herb Levy <herb@ESKIMO.COM>
In-Reply-To: <v01530500ac7b52aadf03@[192.0.2.1]>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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Comments: Converted from PROFS to RFC822 format by PUMP V2.2X
From: Alan Golding <ACGOLD01@ULKYVM.LOUISVILLE.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gwyn McVay <gmcvay1@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
Subject: A non-list anagram
In-Reply-To: <CC3826035@CCMail.UCSD.Edu>
George Herbert Walker Bush =
Huge Berserk Rebel Warthog
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 15:42:12 -0400
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ryan Knighton <knighton@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Welford
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509120027.B540265990-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Bill Luoma <Maz881@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: renga
In-Reply-To: <MAILQUEUE-101.950913100543.480@ccnov2.auckland.ac.nz>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Watts <cwatts@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Brian W Horihan <hori0001@MAROON.TC.UMN.EDU>
Subject: unidentified photo
In-Reply-To: <Pine.OSF.3.91.950912150740.13665A-100000@osf1.gmu.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "CAROLYN L. FORCHE-MATTISON" <cforchem@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: jms <jms@TIAC.NET>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: A non-non-list anagram
In-Reply-To: <Pine.OSF.3.91.950912150740.13665A-100000@osf1.gmu.edu> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Bernstein <BERNSTEI@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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)" <LISTSERV@UBVM.cc.buffalo.edu>
Subject: Message ("Daily message threshold (50) exceeded for list...")
To: Charles Bernstein <BERNSTEI@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Scott Krieger <krieger@FREENET.GRFN.ORG>
Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509121810.A540283277-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
> > 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Patrick Phillips <Patrick_Phillips@BROWN.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SV4.3.91.950910201454.21351A-100000@uhunix2.its.Hawaii.Edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: SPECIAL AGENCY
In-Reply-To: <v01530502ac7a2ee7c810@[192.0.2.1]> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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
<SNIP>
<HIDE>
<SNIP>
> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "W. Northcutt" <William.Northcutt@UNI-BAYREUTH.DE>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Judy Roitman <roitman@OBERON.MATH.UKANS.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Judy Roitman <roitman@OBERON.MATH.UKANS.EDU>
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
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 10:19:27 -0500
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Judy Roitman <roitman@OBERON.MATH.UKANS.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Bill Luoma <Maz881@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Mark Wallace <mdw@GWIS2.CIRC.GWU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Don Cheney <Don_Cheney@UCSDLIBRARY.UCSD.EDU>
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)
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>Message-ID: <950912181044_97718327@emout05.mail.aol.com>
>Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 18:10:46 -0400
>Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
>Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
>From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
>Subject: twenty questions
>To: Multiple recipients of list POETICS <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 13 Sep 1995 11:54:29 +0000
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Steven Howard Shoemaker <ss6r@FERMI.CLAS.VIRGINIA.EDU>
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 <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Rod Smith <AERIALEDGE@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Louis Cabri <ldmcabri@ACS.UCALGARY.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco <Daniel_Bouchard@HMCO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: this break will or will not not branch
In-Reply-To: <Pine.SOL.3.91.950912223042.3783A-100000@freenet>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Chris Scheil <cschei1@FREENET.GRFN.ORG>
Subject: FWD: PLA Communique #32: VOCABULARY MODIFICATION PROPOGANDA
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509131816.C540355947-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Jordan Davis." <Jordan70@AOL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: David Ayre <David_Ayre@MINDLINK.BC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: David Ayre <David_Ayre@MINDLINK.BC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: David Ayre <David_Ayre@MINDLINK.BC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Tony Green <t.green@AUCKLAND.AC.NZ>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Louis Cabri <ldmcabri@ACS.UCALGARY.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jeffrey Timmons <mnamna@IMAP1.ASU.EDU>
Subject: Re: Dear Listserv,
In-Reply-To: <m0st2DH-00002XC@deep.rsoft.bc.ca>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: klobucar <klobucar@UNIXG.UBC.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Judy Roitman <roitman@OBERON.MATH.UKANS.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure
In-Reply-To: <MAILQUEUE-101.950914114630.736@ccnov2.auckland.ac.nz>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: John Cayley <cayley@SHADOOF.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Daniel Bouchard/College/hmco <Daniel_Bouchard@HMCO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Herb Levy <herb@ESKIMO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Eryque Gleason <gleaeri@CHARLIE.ACC.IIT.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Steven Howard Shoemaker <ss6r@FERMI.CLAS.VIRGINIA.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Ron Silliman <rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jeffrey Timmons <mnamna@IMAP1.ASU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Burt Kimmelman -@NJIT" <kimmelman@ADMIN.NJIT.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Louis Cabri <ldmcabri@ACS.UCALGARY.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" <anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Edward Foster <EFOSTER@VAXC.STEVENS-TECH.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Charles Alexander <chax@MTN.ORG>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Herb Levy <herb@ESKIMO.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gwyn McVay <gmcvay1@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Gwyn McVay <gmcvay1@OSF1.GMU.EDU>
Subject: Re: you & whose army?
In-Reply-To: <v01530502ac7f88bd26ab@[192.0.2.1]>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Sheila & Jorge's Excellent Adventure
In-Reply-To: <Pine.3.89.9509131832.D540355947-0100000@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: George Bowering <bowering@SFU.CA>
Subject: Re: Hello Ayre Heads
In-Reply-To: <m0st2CC-00002HC@deep.rsoft.bc.ca> 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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "H. T. KIRBY-SMITH" <KIRBYS@FAGAN.UNCG.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: cris cheek <cris@SLANG.DEMON.CO.UK>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jorge Guitart <MLLJORGE@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Jeffrey Timmons <mnamna@IMAP1.ASU.EDU>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: "Sheila E. Murphy" <semurphy@INDIRECT.COM>
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 <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
Sender: UB Poetics discussion group <POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU>
From: Thomas Bell <tbjn@WELL.COM>
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!."