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Hank Lazer Ron Silliman Charles Bernstein Douglas Messerli Aldon L. Nielsen Jerry Rothenberg Jack Foley Loss Pequeño Glazier |
| Photo credit: Kit Robinson |
Thoughts on Eigner by...
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Hank Lazer Ron Silliman Charles Bernstein Douglas Messerli Aldon L. Nielsen Jerry Rothenberg Jack Foley Loss Pequeño Glazier |
| Photo credit: Kit Robinson |
from Selected Poems (1971):
the knowledge of death, and now
knowledge of the stars
there is one end
and the endless
Room at the center
passage / in no time
a rail thickets hills grass
September 16 92
so years been passing
the road quiet
still often enough
night and then day
light up in the sky
behind a towering tree
shadowed dense
Date: Mon, 5 Feb 1996 03:36:26 -0800
POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU
From: Ron Silliman (rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM)
Subject: Larry Eigner
POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU
When the University Art Museum celebrated Larry Eigner's work by
posting "Again Dawn" in humongous letters on the outside of the museum
and held the big reading with and for Larry, Kit Robinson and I did a
session with an earnest interviewer on the university radio station.
The interviewer wanted to make of the occasion an uplifting "my left
foot" kind of tale, amazed that someone so afflicted with cerebral
palsey could write poetry at all. But that of course was NOT the story.
The story might have been this: that one of the great poets of the 20th
century -- no further qualification needed -- happened to have had
cerebral palsey.
One value of that exhibition at UCB was that those of us who were there
had the opportunity to tell Larry just how much he meant to us all.
Like so many other readers, I had fallen entirely in love with Larry's
poetry long before I had any understanding of how challenged he was by
his own body. Even though David Gitin and others had tried to convey
this to me years before and I had all the evidence of his letters
beginning around 1969, back when I first wrote for some work for
Tottel's, when Larry first moved to Berkeley in 1978 my immediate
instinct was to call him on the phone! Over the years, as Larry's
speech improved markedly by his exposure to so many different people in
Berkeley (very different I gather from the isolation within his parents
house in Swampscott for 51 years), and as I also learned to listen, I
could and did have real conversations over the phone with him. And of
course in person. It was great good luck that Larry's brother had
settled in Berkeley.
Sun & Moon has a new book of Larry's forthcoming and there no doubt
must be hundreds, perhaps thousands, of poems yet to be collected.
Hopefully somebody (UC Press comes to mind as the logical place) will
put together a collected, edited by Grenier. In addition to Eigner's
own 40+ small press books, I would call people's attention to "Missing
'X'" by Barrett Watten (in Total Syntax) as a superb discussion of
the dynamics of Larry's work.
Ron
Date: Wed, 7 Feb 1996 02:52:21
From: Ron Silliman (rsillima@IX.NETCOM.COM)
Subject: Re: Eigner
Re your: "Hearing his reading of the work gave me a new sense of his
use of line break and space -- not sure I can explain it, but I think
I had been reading over the line breaks too quickly before"
It takes some remembering, but I think it's probably easy to see those
clusters of words about the page in such a way as to interpret them as
airy, even wispy, and I think that's an error a lot of people do make
in reading Eigner. The minute one realizes how fully he utilized his
limited physical vocabularly in order simply to put word to page, the
whole weight of movement shifts, and those poems never have that
"light" feeling again. I cannot fathom exactly how strangers will read
that work a century from now, but I assume it will be rather different.
Ron
Date: Mon, 5 Feb 1996 14:26:18 -0500
From: Charles Bernstein (bernstei@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU)
Subject: Larry Eiger (1927-1996) [long post]
POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU
I can't collect my thoughts any further, dwelling on the meanings
of Larry Eigner's life, except to remember the time spent with
him in conversation, or say the time Bob Grenier, Brian McInerney
and I took him to the Museum of Natural History on his one trip
to New York. As we came into the room with some of the largest
dinosaurs, Larry pointed straight ahead and said "that's
interesting". He wasn't pointing to a dinosaur skeleton, though,
but to an old sign posted on the back wall; it _was_ interesting,
in a style long banished (in exhibition halls now replaced). I
think of that remark of Larry's as displaying how much he lived
out his version of a democracy of particulars, as against the
craving for highlights, for the heightened, that is as much a
literacy aesthetic as a consumer imperative. For Eigner, this
didn't mean a flattening of affect; on the contrary it meant a
luminosity of every detail: the perceptual vividness that his
work so uncannily concatenates. This acknowledgement of the
daily, a series of remarks on the otherwise unremarkable, a sort
of poetic alchemy that is not dissimilar to one strain of Jewish
mysticism (a strain in which the mysticism dissolves into an
active apprehension of the real), is an abiding model of and for
a poetry where things as they are let to stand for themselves.
This poet of the ordinary lived an extraordinary life, as if the
physical challenges he faced since birth were spun by poetic
license into mental acrobatics. Larry Eigner is hero of our
times. His will to think was unsuppressible. It was no ordinary
privilege to have known him. I can't think of anyone I admired
more.
*******************
I wrote this for an Eigner celebration at UC-Berkeley's
University Art Museum in June 1993:
AGAIN EIGNER
There is no writing I know as vivid as Larry Eigner's. He's
invented, for poetry, something equivalent to three-dimensional
photography: his works present a series of perceptions etched
deep into the mind, where the mind is charted on a page and the
page becomes a model of the thinking field. Perception and
thought (words and things) are completely intertwined in Eigner's
work, which brings to a visionary crescendo the exploration of
the ordinary -- the transient flickerings of the everyday that
otherwise pass more unnoticed than regarded, more dismissed than
revered. In Eigner's poems, one "fragment" is rivetted to the
next, so that one becomes, in reading this work, likewise riveted
by the uncanny democracy of details, where attention is focussed
unhesitatingly on each particular with equal weight, equal
exhilaration. This is a poetics of "noticing things," where, as
Eigner writes, "nothing is too dull" with "material (things,
words) more and more dense around you." But equally, Eigner's is
a poetics of coincidence, where "serendipity" (contingency) takes
its rightful place as animating spirit, displacing the
anthropocentric sentimentality of much of the verse of our time.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
In 1988, Leslie Scalapino's O Books republished Eigner's
"Anything on Its Side" in O One/An Anthology, for which I wrote
this verse commentary:
Two Eigner poems in memoriam of Larry:
One of the great surprises to me upon moving to the Bay area in '87 was
hearing the conversations between Eigner and poet friends around town. I
was never able to undersatnd Larry Eigner's speech, but poets who had
gotten to know him carried on deeply interesting conversations with him,
which I followed as best I could as if listening to one side of a phone
conversation.
Which is by way of lead up to mention that at the conclusion of that
tremendous tribute reading for Eigner at Berkeley, Eigner gave an
extended reading himself. Hearing his reading of the work gave me a new
sense of his use of line break and space -- not sure I can explain it,
but I think I had been reading over the line breaks too quickly before....
He's been my friend for ten years--I'd see him once a week and
hear from him on the phone quite often. Our birthdays were two days
apart--we had a joint party once. He wrote a preface to my first book,
LETTERS/LIGHTS--WORDS FOR ADELLE, the only preface he wrote to anyone's book.
(Except for the few remarks he made at the beginning of Ron Silliman's CROW.
I had asked Larry for a blurb. He responded with a preface.) My current
book, EXILES, was at his bedside during the last conscious week of his life.
His voice on a message machine was something to hear. He once left a
message on Michael McClure's machine. Michael couldn't make heads nor tails
of it, but I was able to catch what Larry was saying. Larry was not easy to
be friends with. The pattern tended to be for people to visit him for a
while, make some effort to understand his speech, and then to drift away. I
was able to stay friends partly because I didn't live with him and partly
because I understood his speech as well as anyone. This was more something I
willed than something I learned. I was running a poetry series in Berkeley
and I admired Larry's work and wanted him to read in the series. Barry
Watten gave me Larry's phone number, not his address, only his phone number.
I've never known whether this was some sort of joke on Barry's part, since
he certainly had his address as well as his phone number. I phoned and Larry
answered, saying something like "UNGHHHHH." I had known that Larry was
disabled but hadn't realized until that moment that the disability extended
to his speech. I simply decided I would understand Larry. There is no other
way to put it. By the time the conversation was over, Larry had given me his
address and directions to his house, and we had agreed on a date when he was
to read. Kathleen Frumkin told me later that she had been listening on an
extension phone and had been ready to help me out if I needed it. She never
said anything because I seemed to be managing. You write, "His will to think
was unsuppressible." Yes, but so was his will to speak--to speak in any
manner he could. You've been with Larry and know how he would talk all the
time. "To break out with a man's cry," if I'm quoting correctly. His
writing, with all its silences, necessarily partook of that urge towards
talk. People complained of it--Bob and others accused him of "monologuing."
Here is the piece I wrote at the request of the Eigner family:
Born August 7, 1927, in Swampscott, Massachusetts, on the North Shore of
Boston, Eigner got cerebral palsy as a result of a birth injury. Though he
remained "non-ambulatory" throughout his life, he recalled that his mother,
Bessie Eigner, encouraged him to develop a "work ethic," and his schooling
was conducted at home through Swampscott High School. Later, seven
correspondence courses from the University of Chicago gave him "a toe-hold of
application and hope." Curiosity, he claimed, was always an important
factor, "my eyes still big for my head, most things...always tantalizing
beyond or almost beyond sight and hearing, out of reach."
In 1949 Eigner "bumped into [poet] Cid Corman reading Yeats, on the
radio" and wrote a letter disagreeing with Corman's non-declamatory way of
reciting. "This began a correspondence in which I got introduced to things,
and the ice broke considerably." Donald Allen's landmark 1960 anthology, THE
NEW AMERICAN POETRY, includes Eigner's exquisite, often enigmatic verse in
the section devoted to "The Black Mountain Poets," a group of writers
publishing in THE BLACK MOUNTAIN REVIEW, an experimental magazine printed by
Black Mountain College in North Carolina. Many of these poets had also
appeared in Corman's magazine, ORIGIN. Among the poets associated with this
group were Charles Olson, Robert Duncan, Denise Levertov, and Robert Creeley,
whose Divers Press published Eigner's first mature book, FROM THE SUSTAINING
AIR, in 1953. After reading that book, William Carlos Williams remarked on
Eigner's "perfect ear" and added, "It's strange how oldfashioned he makes
much of the work of the past appear. But it is always so with every new and
outstanding writer."
Eigner's many books, all of them published through small presses,
include: ON MY EYES (1960, edited by Denise Levertov); ANOTHER TIME IN
FRAGMENTS (1967); SELECTED POEMS (1972, edited by Samuel Charters and Andrea
Wyatt); THINGS STIRRING TOGETHER OR FAR AWAY (1974); COUNTRY / HARBOR / QUIET
/ ACT / AROUND (1978, selected prose edited by Barrett Watten), and WATERS /
PLACES / A TIME (edited by Robert Grenier, the book was co-winner of the San
Francisco State Poetry Award in 1983). AREAS LIGHTS HEIGHTS, SELECTED
WRITINGS 1954-1989, edited by Benjamin Friedlander, appeared from Roof Books
in 1989. Eigner's current book of poetry, again edited by Grenier, WINDOWS
WALLS YARD WAYS, appeared in 1994 from Black Sparrow Press, publisher of many
of his titles. Another volume of poetry edited by Grenier, READINESS /
ENOUGH / DEPENDS / ON, is forthcoming from Sun & Moon Press. In 1967 Toad
Press published a second, expanded edition of FROM THE SUSTAINING AIR, and
in 1988 The Coincidence Press reprinted the original edition. Ron Silliman's
1986 anthology of L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poetry, IN THE AMERICAN TREE, was dedicated
to Larry Eigner. A short "Autobiography" is forthcoming from Gale Research,
Inc. in Detroit. In Eigner's poems, themes of ecology and explorations of
his Jewish heritage exist side by side with the most advanced experimental
techniques and deep, deceptively simple, sensuous evocations of the world
around him. "Parodying Socrates a little," he wrote, "you might say I know
enough to feel naive."
In August, 1978, a few months after his father's death, Eigner relocated
to Berkeley, CA, where his brother Richard was residing and where he lived
till his death. Many young poets visited him there, and he carried on an
active correspondence with poets throughout the world. The door to his home
was frequently unlocked. As a regular at Jack Foley's Larry Blake's reading
series in Berkeley, Eigner became a familiar figure to the Bay Area poetry
scene. Despite the difficulty many people had in understanding his speech,
he gave many readings of his poetry, often in the company of Foley.
Eigner was also something of a media figure. In 1973, Leonard Henny and
Jan Boon made GETTING IT TOGETHER, a documentary film about Eigner with
poetry readings by Allen Ginsberg. In August, 1994, Foley broadcast an
hour-long interview with Eigner on KPFA radio. THE UNITED STATES OF POETRY,
a forthcoming series made for public television by Bob Holman, has a segment
featuring Eigner. In the summer of 1993, at the suggestion of Berkeley poet
Lyn Hejinian, the UC Berkeley University Art Museum paid tribute to Eigner
with a special MATRIX exhibition. His poem, "again dawn," from ANOTHER TIME
IN FRAGMENTS, was inscribed on the building's facade. A special poetry
reading at which Eigner appeared was held to commemorate the event. Eigner's
last public appearance was at a tribute to Gertrude Stein which Hejinian
presented at New College of California in November, 1995.
Eigner's innovative poetry was widely admired by poets of very different
persuasions. The poets to whom he returned again and again were Hart Crane,
William Carlos Williams, and Charles Olson. Denise Levertov wrote, "More
than almost any poet I can think of, he demands a suppleness, an imaginative
agility, a willingness and ability to leap with him from image to image...."
Robert Duncan asserted that Eigner had produced "a new development of
Williams's line: his phrasings are not broken off in an abrupt juncture but
hover, having a margin of their own--stanzaic phrasings--suspended in their
own time within the time of the poem."
Funeral services will take place on Tuesday, at 2 p.m., at The Rolling
Hills Memorial Park (Tel Shalom section), Richmond, Interstate 80 at Hilltop
Drive. Eigner's family requests that the public and freinds not send
flowers. A contribution can be made in Larry Eigner's name to
Jack
Loss Pequeño Glazier
walls, soundless, are stable, allow the application of pressure as swallows
reflect sound
where you think of what a wall is. How it reflects. How its position swounds
an acoustic
however auditory acrostic of stunned steps from the straits of its
audiational vista
bay is a bowl the geographic sun room's horticulture not hormuz how zounds
leads
is the wall that stands outside which sends windows sounds "The Music, The
Rooms"
in "silence silence silence silence sound" where sound only capable amid the
profusion
of wounds. Silence marks the beat, its time, makes sounds possible within
the noise
of whitespace caterwauling when insisted marking to side is what words spark
remark
"on the walls" sustain. On both sides, whether the push outside punctuates
birds
its conscious present of paper cosmos whether "times advance" ie tides,
ties, pools
or manmade poles, pinpoints, power ... "with desperate ease" sees color's
infrared
light also from a punctuation of circling, "the food, the power" inside its
simple strait
plunge which is the food and the powder, torpid "tropic" for fleck, as light
is a speck
or inspect how birds themselves circle before blunting, plunging, plageant
"pinpoint"
"how distance is to some birds" simply said how IS distance to some? Is any
distance
possible when circling--no distance--leads to food? The answer that such
distance is the
"pinpoint"--the sun point, the pole from perspective of bird's sky view,
"back up" its cries
"the meaning of change" is in a change of rooms. This is information itself,
which room
and which side is outside (or "so the words go up/ into thin air" how "the
parlor" pauses
"the speaking" only existing against the parlor and MADE POSSIBLE by a physical pause
as this pause leads to "room". Room for pause and the pause which makes room
place once inside. There windowed against the spoken pause musical parlor
under skies
skies hold mutable pause midwing "birds pass the window" pause "the curves
together")
sound only plays against its instrument (forgotten) "on the screen" "the
clock shakes out"
as is player piano--a scroll of white of "silence silence silence silence
sound" where sound
only capable amid the profusion of wounds--the punctuations as punctures the
scroll
makes room for. The player piano is an instrument forgotten of silence which
produces
sound song written as if through a wall which pauses sense of sound. Elsewise
a vase for precarious things "a live broadcast" indeed when marks behind screen
which mars sounds themselves how ... circling ... how silence is to some birds.
"directed" how to eyes, Africa, dogs, hair bleach, and scurvy roll off five
such beats
between pivots that pinpoint bikes sea sights voyage the studio that spins
dark strife
how did those gulls break shells? as "they might" dive "headlong into"
spells? how
is wampum also shells and broke also without wampum but moreso there are not
things here: the currency of the letter in stuttering conjunction of zounds
("wonder
and astonishment") and swounds (wound + swoons)--falling from the sky, mating--
in the hand but distant "how distance is to some birds" is "the dim
expanding miles"
see sea saw as white white white white light holds steady "they might drive
headlong"
as headlights hound the wall of sight:
magnetism as physical as the pull between 'they might drive like a magnet' and
'the mist blows like a magnet'. The pull creates the space which is the
magnet that
"blows lost bearings" next, of course rest. Sounds come from rests which
next
"nest in fisherman's pocket"--nets contains the same letters as nest--as
nets which
sent tens the magnet of a pocket. An afterword note describes Pokagan the
note itself
as much SHAPE as lexical value. As words, trace of magnet drawn across
glass, scores
flight of pigeons across "nuggets of sound carving space" (cb) storm cravin place
how the birds sound there--in is in all cases sound there "commingling", mix of
"geometry of ties that blind in music" (cb) "What sound for our ears"
sleigh of ear bells and thundering of encroaching charm. The birds as charm of
sound's astonished sense fluttering "all about me; gently" an onset as extinct
however never more vivid than in Pokagan's description--brought even more
to vivacity against a wall, with the screen and its "live performance" which
is less
blanket? Simply the silence that makes sound possible only as an outline in
its furls.
Words are present passing as they did "like a cloud through the branches of
the high
trees"--the driving "headlong into / the mist"--that is this blanketing
action where a
plane lengthens through fog / or cloud bends away / the curves together--thelargest
or smallest action may have immense MASS though it's not a mass dependent on
size or
bulk but a mass which takes its form from its immediate position in a
spectrum of activity
where pages ARE on the page, where places are, or objects are inside a plane
or outside.
Whether circling, plunging--but always dependent on its relation. Indeed,
where is the bird
when it is raining? Just as what is a sound without a wall, window, or
objects for its
reflection? Its sounding without mass but there..."a bird / depending on the
weather"
"THE ONLY WORLD WE'VE GOT"
_Anything on Its Side_ is placed, like
a volume in a tank of water, with utter
gravity against the next moment that occurs
in what is called time but for Eigner is always
spaced, for example on a page. What
would it be to be grounded, to know
the ground under you by the weight
it pushes back with? "Every atom of me
. . . across distances." No awful trembling
unto undecidability, everything founded in
its site, cleaves to what there is, to
what is there. "_To be_ is involved
such words that hold / times in the mind":
a way, still, that a poem can enact its
own presence, with full measure of the
necessary determination to move from
anything to that which juts against it,
a conviction that life is made of (of)
just such leaps, the contingency of an eye
(aye, I) 'gainst a field of "r/oars" ("_suddenly_
a day"). Something like deep
focus, as if the poems had become
an organ, the sky bellows. Step by
step, slowly turning. Yet there is no
opening onto image here, no mime of
a rehearsal of a scene. Eigner's depth-of-
field _charges_ each page to _hold_ its own,
"to have things whole". "to see / dark
the / invisible". Perception all right,
but not sun-drenched barns: "fishmongers",
"pigment", "air". If there's
narrative, it's narrative unhinged
of causal nexus, logical spools. Each
line rivets its moment & moves on, like
angels on the head of a quill pin, nor
looks ahead nor back, but "bangs" indissoluble
at precise splice ("each fief") that
bodies the moment from one to next. "to
negotiate the ocean drop by drop
if there were time". In adjacency
is act-uality: "you thought it was
as it is". Nuggets of sound carving
space. "Motion" "motor" "process"
"winds" "bells" "floating" "echoing"
"coursing" "falling" "roaming" "wading"
"spilling" "flying" "dazzling" "burning"
"unflagging" "blows" "stirs" "curves"
"spirals" "stagger" "dives" "slips"
"slicks" "shakes" "hums" "simmers"
"twist" "float" "flap" "dangle" "glitter"
"subside": "_imagine_ the extent" (a
geometry of ties that blind In music,
"the great sea orchestrated with men"--
"what's unseen" "what sound for our
ears"). What is "_displaced_" at each
juncture is the plenitude of eyes seeing
beyond sight, the replenishment of
occlusion's hold, storehouse of an
interior horizon s(t)olid as emplacement.
"What you / see you / settle / on"--
settlement, homestead in the moment's
whole, "such words that hold" nor need
an other embrace. "your eyes open" "we
_see_ something to _say_ or / listen to".
Imagine the extent.
[--ch. bernstein]
From ???@??? Mon Feb 05 22:21:05 1996
From: Charles Bernstein (bernstei@UBVMS.CC.BUFFALO.EDU)
Subject: Larry Eigner (1927-1996)
To: Multiple recipients of list POETICS
POETICS@UBVM.CC.BUFFALO.EDU
One of the rituals of Jewish funerals is to rip a piece of clothing as an
expression of grief. (This is more often done symbolically, by pinning a
ripped piece of cloth to your jacket so as to avoid actual damage to your
actual expensive tie.)
Anyway, I have too much experience turning around my errors, or
having them turned on me.
Eigne
Igner
Eignr
Egner
Einer
Eiger
EIGNER
Date: Tue, 6 Feb 1996 08:07:24
From: Douglas Messerli (djmess@SUNMOON.COM)
Subject: Larry Eigner: in memoriam
This one was published in THE GERTRUDE STEIN AWARDS volume. Norma Cole
reminded me its appropriateness:
n o m o r e p o e t r y !
but the window
I suddenly shifted positon and
really have to go
N o w a g a i n
Mountain ice
on the rocky path
with the knockout view
---I watch my step
in time
*
G o o d
I've had the bagel and I've
eaten it too
FROM Eigner's forthcoming volume: readiness / enough / depends / on
If life,
things,
weren't so
intersting, it,
they,
would kill
me
Date: Tue, 6 Feb 1996 09:02:34
From: "Aldon L. Nielsen" (anielsen@ISC.SJSU.EDU)
Subject: Re: Eigner
Date: Wed, 7 Feb 1996 10:02:18 PST
From: Jerry Rothenberg (jrothenb@CARLA.UCSD.EDU)
Subject: Re: Eigner
The first Eigner recording that I can recall was published (as both cassette
& reel-to-reel by S-Press (Germany) in 1975.
Title: AROUND NEW / SOUND
DAILY / MEANS: A SELECTION OF POEMS (or: SELECTED POEMS.)
27poems are
included, and the recording data (circumstances) read as follows:
Recorded
by Michael Koehler at Swampscott, Mass., on July 1st and 11th, 1974.
I assume that this is now out of print, but who knows.
Jerome Rothenberg
Date: Tue, 06 Feb 1996 03:19:16 -0500
From: Jack Foley (JASFOLEY@aol.com)
Subject: larry eigner
Dear Charles,
Thank you for your touching, eloquent remarks about Larry. As you suggested,
I'll email my press release and also fax it to you.
I've been so busy, partly with trying to spread the news about Larry and
partly with other things (had to record radio interviews with Adrienne Rich
and Jerry Rothenberg), that I've been barely able to put my thoughts
together. Larry had been in the hospital for a week before his death,
comatose. This morning, quite early, both Michael McClure and my son Sean
phoned me to tell me they'd heard of Larry's death and funeral arrangements
on NPR. That was exactly the kind of thing Larry would do--phone me at an
hour when no one else would phone me to tell about something he'd heard on the radio.
Yet there it was, at his very center, controlled in certain ways but in
others not. Hard to think of him silent.
LARRY EIGNER: 1927-1996
Distinguished American poet and writer Lawrence Joel (Larry) Eigner died
Saturday February 3rd of pneumonia at Alta Bates Hospital in Berkeley.
Eigner was 68 and is survived by two brothers, Richard, who lives in
Berkeley, and Joseph, who lives in Saint Louis, Missouri.
KPFA-FM
1929
Martin Luther King Jr. Way
Berkeley, CA 94704.
Date: Sun, 18 Feb 1996 20:12:53 -0500
From: Loss Glazier (lolpoet@acsu.Buffalo.EDU)
Subject: Some Thoughts on Eigner [long post]
WHAT SOUND A WALL
For Larry Eigner
It takes some remembering, but I think it's probably easy to see those
"wampum gulls broke shells" determine rhythm insist sound defines--beyond walls
clusters of words about the page in such a way as to interpret them as
airy, even wispy, and I think that's an error a lot of people do
make (rs)
a steady white light
they might drive headlong into
the mist like a magnet
blows lost bearings
-----------------------------------------
belows of hearings
... as if the poems had become
an organ, the sky bellows. (cb)
The magnet is a pivot and the pivot is the space on the wall its attractive
drawn
pivot spun
sERK Life
irises*
----------------------------------------------
*headlights, sights, "a steady white light"
how you would "carefully concealed them under my blanket" why and what is the