May 2013
33 posts
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It isn't fame or failure
just so many books to read
so many words to write
and the backyard garden is
Paradise. I could spend
all day naming things and all night
breaking promises -David Meltzer
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Ed Ruscha’s notebook.
(Ruscha is a poet)
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“Between us a wound in paper”
-David Meltzer, from “Entries”
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MANIFESTO OF LETTERIST POETRY by ISIDORE ISOU
A Commonplaces about Words
Pathetic I The flourishing of bursts of energy dies beyond us.
All delirium is expansive.
All impulses escape stereotyping.
Still I An intimate experience maintains curious specifics.
Pathetic II Discharges are transmitted by notions.
What a difference between our fluctuations and the...
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“No word is capable of carrying the impulses
one wants to send with it” -Isidore Isou
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“If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.” ― Émile Zola
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What's given up
given out into her
her page whose bones
fan apart. -David Meltzer
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Families standing in the flooded Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aires, holding photos of their disappeared, 1983. Photo by Daniel García. From the exhibit: Losing the human form.
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I have been thinking a lot about something David Meltzer once wrote. It hangs around my throat like a noose:
“The deception of a new typewriter ribbon gets him going another few years.”
The beautiful things you make yourself believe. Just to get by. To survive yourself. How else do people survive themselves?
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“Some enter and never leave
others go crazy beyond paper
some know...”
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"In the hole he counted heartbeats
but got scared they'd stop
listened to broken pipes
under the shit-hole in the floor
finally read the Bible they give you
but his religion wasn't in a book
unless it's the telephone book
so he stayed alive counting
letters, commas, periods" -David Meltzer
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where he thought his life extended
withdraws like fire-shrinking paper
and all these years his love was paper
his body in a vision resembled a tree
where his life retreats
a lasso knot pulled into itself
and paper feels like flesh
his eyes become embarrassed
watching it withdraw from his touch
[]
I go through my body and out onto the paper
...
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The Modern Lovers - Hospital
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“The essential thing is not that there be many truths in a work, but that no truth be abused.” -Joseph Joubert
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“You could save thousands of women, but all the ones I have seen smoking and...”
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There is a line from a Tomas Tranströmer poem that doesn’t leave my head:
“We are at a party that doesn’t love us.”
I am haunted by the truth of this.
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We smile at each other
and I lean back against the wicker couch.
How does it feel to be dead? I say.
You touch my knees with your blue fingers.
And when you open your mouth,
a ball of yellow light falls to the floor
and burns a hole through it.
Don’t tell me, I say. I don’t want to hear.
Did you ever, you start,
wear a certain kind of dress
and just by accident,
so inconsequential you...
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wrists
like lapels
with scalpel button holes
& the biggest
reddest carnations
I ever
saw
© 2013 Miggy Angel
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But seriously, what did politeness ever have to do with poetry? -Miggy Angel
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I found a piece of your hair on a sweater I haven’t worn since last winter Where do I begin when all I see are endings? Someone somewhere wrote:
“The question of whether or not crustaceans can experience pain is unresolved.”
I’ve never felt so hopeless in all my life. -my poem. for you. for the missing.
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moon fact no.7 by bob schofield
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INTERVIEWER
Do you write every day?
SONTAG
No. I write in spurts. I write when I have to because the pressure builds up and I feel enough confidence that something has matured in my head and I can write it down. But once something is really under way, I don’t want to do anything else. I don’t go out, much of the time I forget to eat, I sleep very little. It’s a very undisciplined way of working...
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“I will be gone from here and sing my songs In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are And carve in letters on the little trees The story of my love, and as the trees Will grow the letters too will grow, to cry In a louder voice the story of my love…” -Virgil
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“there are sorrows
a choir can’t reach when they sing.”
-William...”
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Never tame your words, teach them to sit, clip their chin hairs. Or cup your hands beneath their lolly tongues, catch their drool. You must be a madman held in cloth skin, ballerinas dancing in your mouth. When the hounds wail inside your body no one must hear them. -John Rybicki, “Animal Sounds Off Pavement”
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When Francis said:
“I don’t have to be forgiven it was like the moon said I love you”
(the words never left me.
they are engraved on my ribs.)
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“It was everywhere, in the streets and houses,
on farms and now in the air...”
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“The poem is an argument with death.”
-Jerome Rothenberg,...”
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Who are you, Anna Karina?
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“You hold an absence
at your center,
as if it were a life.”
-Richard...”
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“I’ll tell you, my friends: it’s all in the nerves. The nerves that tense and relax as you approach the edges of companionship and love. The razor-sharp edges of companionship and love.” ― Roberto Bolaño, Amulet
April 2013
12 posts
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from Sans Soleil, directed by Chris Marker: -The first image he told me about was of three children on a road in Iceland in 1965. He said that for him it was the image of happiness, and also that he had tried several times to link it to other images, but it never worked. He wrote me, “One day I’ll have to put it all alone at the beginning of a film, with a long piece of black leader....
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“bees, my
skin smells
of sun, the
insides of
roses. I want
to eat that...”
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“That is the saddest thing about our relationships: we claim to know them outright, we claim to be the only ones finally capable of analyzing the quirks of friends and lovers newly found. And yet there are pockets of solitude, great gaps in their lives that we can never fathom because of the simple fact that we were not there when they happened.” -Eric Gamalinda, Planet Waves
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“A song is two dead bodies rubbing under the covers to keep warm.” -Sarah Ruhl, Eurydice
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PRODUCER: And how do you benefit from stringing together the tattered pieces of your life? Your vague memories, the faces of people that you were never able to love … GUIDO: … Everything is confused again as it was before. But the confusion is .. me. Not as I’d like to be, but as I am. I’m not afraid anymore of telling the truth, of the things I don’t know, what...
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“Not everyone wants to go home
to get the sunset painted back into their bones...”
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“Baby, I have no idea how this will end. Maybe the equator will fall like a...”
March 2013
31 posts
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“Think of the first love you ever destroyed because you’d never known anything...”
– A History Of Silence: VOTE for April Ranger to be named “Best Poet” in Boston by clicking HERE.
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47. I dreamt that Baudelaire was making love to a shadow in a room where a crime had been committed. But Baudelaire didn’t care. It’s all the same, he said. Roberto Bolaño, Tres
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“This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons...”
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“I really don’t love you. You were just a project. I had to teach you how to...”
– Donna-Marie Riley (via ofmidnightandvelvet)
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“What are you doing with your summer? I am letting mine lay me down and probe me...”
– (via five—a—day) 